Chapter 7 - FORTY-TWO DAYS LATERThe autumn breeze swept across the private docks of Savannah, carrying the salty scent of the Atlantic and the steady hum of cargo ships moving in the distance.
It was day forty-two.
The final day of the legal mandate required by her grandfather’s trust.
Belmont Maritime Supply was officially restructured, its debts cleared, its four hundred employees safe, and its leadership restored under Rebecca’s sole, undisputed control.
The emergency funds had been released at midnight.
Now, stood beneath the glowing amber lights of the waterfront pavilion, Rebecca wore a simple white linen dress—not the heavy silk gown her mother had forced on her, but something she had chosen herself.
Matthew stood a few feet away, wearing a dark navy blazer, watching her with those steady, unreadable grey eyes.
Julian Vance walked up to them, holding a pristine, leather-bound folder containing the official paperwork.
“The forty-two days are officially complete, Mr. and Mrs. Mercer,” Julian announced with a respectful bow. “The trust is fully unfrozen. The marriage contract... well, the annulment papers are right here, ready for your signature.”
Rebecca looked down at the papers.
Six weeks ago, signing those papers would have been the happiest moment of her life. It would have meant freedom. It would have meant escaping the fake marriage, the work shirts, the cramped west-side apartment, and the complicated, terrifying world of Matthew Hale Mercer.
She looked over at Matthew.
He was holding little Lucy’s hand. The little girl was clutching her one-eyed teddy bear, looking up at Matthew with complete, unconditional adoration.
Matthew looked at Rebecca, his expression unreadable, waiting quietly for her decision.
“You’re free to go, Rebecca,” Matthew said quietly, his voice carrying a strange, heavy note of finality. “The company is saved. Your family name is restored. You can sign the annulment and walk back into your old life whenever you’re ready.”
Rebecca stared at the pen in her hand.
Then, slowly, deliberately, she closed the leather folder, picked it up, and tossed it into the open metal trash can beside the dock with a loud, echoing clatter.
Matthew blinked, his stoic expression cracking for the first time in six weeks. “Rebecca? What are you doing?”
Rebecca stepped forward, closing the distance between them until she could feel the warmth radiating from his chest. She reached up, gently adjusting the lapel of his navy blazer.
“My mother chose my first wedding dress,” Rebecca whispered, a slow, radiant smile spreading across her face. “And I lived in a cramped apartment with a broken toy chest for forty-two days.”
Matthew’s grey eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of pure realization igniting within them. “And?”
“And,” Rebecca said, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips softly against his, “I’ve decided I rather like the view from the west side.”
Lucy squealed with delight, jumping up and down. “Does that mean she’s staying forever, Daddy?”
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Matthew wrapped his strong, calloused arms around Rebecca’s waist, pulling her flush against him as the Georgia sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of gold and fire.
“Yeah, sweet pea,” Matthew whispered, looking down at his wife with a rare, breathtaking smile. “She’s staying for good.”
