Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“Maybe. But he didn’t need to drug me to nail me,” I said. If he wanted to be blunt, I could do blunt. “We had sex earlier that night when we were both sober. There was no need to try to force me into it. And I’m relatively sure we didn’t hook up again after I was drunk.”
“Okay. But he did need to get you drunk to marry you.”
“Listen, I have no idea how we ended up at the chapel. I’ve never been a ‘I want to get married’ person. I guess we were just having a good time and our inhibitions were low. Well, mine were. I’m not sure Harrison was drunk.”
“Harrison…” Carl repeated, then his gaze snapped to mine. “Harrison Valentine?”
“Yep.” I popped the p, then took a sip of my coffee.
“Are you sure you want to annul this marriage?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m assuming you didn’t consult a lawyer before the nuptials?”
“Not that I know of, no.”
“Then the chances of you signing a pre-nuptial are slim to none. You are a very wealthy woman today.”
“I was already a wealthy woman. A wealthy single woman. How I like it. I want a divorce, and I want it now.”
“Okay. I’m here to please,” Carl said, holding up a hand, his fancy pen held beneath his ring and forefinger. “What you are seeking is an annulment, not a divorce.”
“Because we didn’t consummate it?”
To that, a big smile stretched across Carl’s face. “No, hon. Those are antiquated rules. Sex has nothing to do with the validity of a marriage or what kind of dissolution you are seeking.”
“Okay. So, how does this work? How fast can this be done?”
“I can have the papers for you before you leave the office. If you can get Mr. Valentine to sign it today, I can likely get it in the filing process right away. But the rest is up to the system. On the very short end, it could be days. I would suspect weeks, though.”
Weeks.
My stomach knotted at that.
But weeks felt doable.
By the time I left the country for my next tournament, it would all be done.
If…
“Um, what if… on the off-chance Harrison isn’t as gung-ho to divorce as I am, what happens then?”
“Well, then, things get sticky,” Carl said, leaning back in his seat, his pen held between the pinched fingers of both hands.
“How so?”
“If Mr. Valentine doesn’t want to divorce you for financial reasons—we must assume he has spoken to his own attorney about this situation already—we can be clear in the paperwork that you want to cut ties with no division of assets.”
“Okay. Can we go ahead and do that right away, so we don’t waste time drafting up new paperwork?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, good. But what if it isn’t about the money? I mean, it probably is. But what if it isn’t?”
“If it isn’t about the money and Mr. Valentine simply doesn’t want to divorce you, that is when things get complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“What you will be seeking in that situation is a contested annulment.”
“And that is different because…”
“First of all, it involves court. And typically a lot more time.”
“Why?”
“Because an annulment basically means that the marriage shouldn’t have been valid in the first place based on, in this case, lack of consent due to drunkenness. But if Mr. Valentine says it was valid and you did consent, it is up to a judge to decide who is correct. And, well, our court system can be slow. Especially if either of you have any appointments that might get in the way of court dates.”
“Great,” I said with a deep sigh.
“Look, let’s put this into perspective. There is no situation in which the courts will force you to stay married to someone you don’t want to be married to. That’s not how things work. It will just be more frustrating and lengthy. But in the end, you will be a single woman again.
“That said, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. There is a very high probability that Mr. Valentine will happily sign the annulment once he knows you’re not after his money.”
“I think he already knows that,” I mumbled, looking down at my ring.
“Come again?”
“See this?” I asked, holding up my hand.
A little whistle escaped Carl. “That’s quite a ring.”
“I gave it back to him this morning,” I told him. “He gave it back to me again when we ran into each other at a restaurant.”
Carl sucked in a deep breath, likely coming to the same conclusion I did. That if he was worried about the money, why would he leave me with an expensive ring?
“Well, let’s just hope that’s a payoff,” Carl said, shrugging and pulling his chair forward. “I’m just going to have a few questions for the paperwork, and we can get it printed out and out the door with you.”
“Thank God,” I said, sighing.