The Bigamy Discovery

The salt water stung my eyes as we huddled in the raft, watching the last of the wreckage disappear beneath the waves. The storm had broken, leaving behind a bruised purple sky and a calm, indifferent ocean.

Leo was shivering violently. Sophie was silent, her head buried in Julian's chest.

Julian looked at the empty sea. He didn't speak. He just held our daughter, his face a mask of exhaustion and shock.

We drifted for three hours before a fishing boat spotted the flare Cole had fired from the cockpit before he bailed out.

By the time we reached the coast of Puerto Rico, it was dark.

We sat in the back of a police cruiser, wrapped in blankets. The officers asked questions. Who were we? Where was the pilot? What happened?

"Engine failure," Julian said, his voice flat. "My father... he didn't make it."

They believed him. Why wouldn't they? He was the grieving son.

But I wasn't grieving. I was calculating.

Arthur was gone. But his empire remained. And his secrets were still buried in the concrete of the Millennium Tower.

I needed to make sure they stayed buried. Or rather, I needed to make sure they were dug up by the right people.

We flew back to New York on a commercial flight, huddled together in coach like refugees. No private jets. No champagne. Just the dull roar of the engines and the weight of what we had done.

We landed at JFK. No one met us. The press hadn't caught wind of the crash yet. To the world, Arthur Hawthorne was still the billionaire philanthropist who had tragically lost his wife ten years ago.

We took a cab to the house.

It was still a crime scene, but the police presence had thinned. The tape was sagging.

We walked inside.

It smelled of stale coffee and fear.

"Go upstairs," I told the kids. "Take a shower. Get some sleep."

They went without a word. They were traumatized, hollowed out.

I looked at Julian.

"We need to talk," I said.

We went to the study. The place where Arthur had tried to erase me.

Julian sat in his father's chair. He looked small.

"He's dead," Julian said. "He's really dead."

"Yes," I said.

"And now I'm the CEO," he said. "I'm in charge."

He laughed. A bitter, jagged sound.

"I don't know how to run a company, Elena. I don't know how to do anything except follow orders."

"You'll learn," I said. "Or you'll sell it. It doesn't matter. What matters is that we're safe."

"Are we?" he asked. "Corinne is still out there. The board is still there. The cartel partners you mentioned..."

"We'll deal with them," I said. "One by one."

I walked over to the bookshelf. I pulled down a legal text. *Family Law: New York State.*

"What are you doing?" Julian asked.

"I need to check something," I said. "Something Arthur said before he died. About the law. About Margaret."

He had said, *The law says you're incompetent. The law says you belong to me.*

But if Margaret was alive...

I flipped through the pages.

*Divorce. Annulment. Death in Absentia.*

I found the section on declaring a spouse legally dead.

*If a spouse is declared dead, the marriage is dissolved.*

Arthur had declared Margaret dead ten years ago. He had a death certificate. A funeral.

So their marriage was over.

But then he had married Corinne.

I looked at the next section.

*Bigamy. A marriage is void ab initio if either party has a living spouse from a prior undissolved marriage.*

If Margaret was alive, the declaration of death was fraudulent. Which meant the first marriage was never dissolved.

Which meant the second marriage was illegal.

I looked at Julian.

"Arthur never divorced your mother," I said. "He just declared her dead."

"So?"

"So if she's alive," I said, "his marriage to Corinne is void. It never happened."

Julian stared at me.

"That means..."

"That means Corinne isn't his wife," I said. "She's not his widow. She has no claim to the estate. No claim to the company. No claim to anything."

I closed the book.

"Corinne wasn't the wife," I said. "She was the mistress. And she has no idea."

I picked up my phone. I dialed Corinne's number.

She picked up on the second ring.

"Elena?" she whispered. "Did you find them?"

"They're safe," I said. "Arthur is dead."

She let out a sob. Relief? Grief? I couldn't tell.

"I need to see you," I said. "Meet me at the tower. Tomorrow morning."

"Why?"

"Because we need to talk about your future," I said. "Or lack thereof."

I hung up.

I looked at Julian.

"We have the company," I said. "We have the money. Now we just need to get rid of the last complication."

"Corinne?"

"No," I said. "The bodies."