Narrates Mason:
My parents asked me to have Peyton sign a prenuptial agreement. They're right to protect their fortune, and I couldn't refuse. I'm heading to see her now, but I'm not sure how she'll take this.
When I arrive at the house, Camila greets me nervously since I came without warning.
"Good morning, sir. Mrs. Peyton is on the terrace with a visitor," she says anxiously.
"Good morning, don't worry, I'll go there," I say, moving forward.
That was strange. Why is the nurse so nervous? I walk in silence and see that she's with the same man who attended the dinner my mother organized some time ago. I walk silently to listen to their conversation. I know it's not right to do this, but Camila's nervousness piqued my curiosity.
He tells her that she looks beautiful as always, and she thanks him for his words. What he says next leaves me frozen in place.
"You know you can count on me, and I'll always be there for you if you decide to accept what I've proposed," the man says, taking her hand.
She nervously and blushingly withdraws her hand, which should bother him, but it doesn't.
"Thank you for always being there for me. I value your friendship a lot, and I know I can count on you in any problem," Peyton responds.
I continue to advance, and she notices my presence. Her face loses color when she sees me. She stands up and approaches me, smiling nervously.
"Good morning, I hope I'm not interrupting," I say, looking at my future wife.
"Darling, of course not. My friend came to see how I'm doing. He has always been very kind to me," she says nervously.
"I see," I reply. I don't believe he only wanted to be her friend, but I won't say it.
"Good morning, Mason. You know, I couldn't help but grow fond of her. She was my neighbor, and we had long conversations while you couldn't be with her," he says, and I notice a slight resentment in his voice.
"I appreciate your concern for both of them," I say, using the plural.
"Don't thank me, man. It's my pleasure. I hope you don't mind that I keep in touch with her. The friendship we have is very close," he says, and I notice a double meaning in his words.
"I don't mind. On the contrary, I appreciate it," I say, looking at Peyton.
"What are you doing here so early, love? I love that you come to see me. We can have tea with..." my fiancée says nervously.
"I'm sorry, I have to go. I need to stop by the company to make sure everything is running smoothly. You know how these things are, Mason," he says, getting up to leave.
"Thank you for coming to see me. Have a good day," Peyton says, hugging him quickly.
"It's my pleasure, beautiful. We'll keep in touch. Nice to see you, Mason," he says, shaking my hand.
"Goodbye, have a nice day," I respond to his farewell.
I watch him leave, and Peyton sits back down, gesturing to the seat beside her. I take a seat, and she says to me,
"How are you, love?" with a smile.
"I'm fine. How about you? Is everything okay?" I ask, looking at her closely.
"Everything's fine. How is my surprise coming along?" she asks, changing the subject.
"It's going well. The wedding preparations are going smoothly. Actually, I came because I need to talk to you about something important," I tell her, and she tenses up.
"Tell me, darling. Is something wrong?" she asks anxiously.
"Well, my father has asked me for something, and I think he's right. As you know, they, my parents, entrusted their entire fortune to me as the only heir they have. So, my father suggested that we sign a prenuptial agreement before the wedding, mostly because the company's lawyers recommend it. It's not that they don't trust you, and in the end, our child, and the ones we have in the future will be the sole heirs to my family's entire fortune," I explain, and I see her expression change to a displeased one.
"You or the lawyers requested this?" she asks, hurt.
"The lawyers, Peyton. You know my mother is improving the relationship we have, and my father has always been a man of few words. Don't think things that aren't true," I say, sighing.
"Is that what you want? You don't trust me," she says, the last part with sadness.
"If you love me and want to be with me out of love, there shouldn't be a problem in signing an agreement, don't you think?" I ask, with discomfort in my voice.
"Do you have the audacity to be upset? I'm the one who's angry because of the distrust you and your parents have towards me. If you truly loved me and knew me well, you would have refused to accept this agreement. You didn't, and that's because you don't trust me," she responds, standing up.
"Look, I don't want to fight. It's just a signature, it's not important," I say, touching my forehead in frustration.
"Just a signature, of course, it's just that. But it hurts me that you're asking for it. I thought you knew me," she says, entering the house.
I don't follow her; there's no point. She's upset, and I'm frustrated with everything. I think about the man's words, and I believe he wants Peyton as more than just a friend. Those words weren't used without a second intention. I think about how many times he has come, how close their relationship is, and why I knew nothing about it. Now I also think about Camila's attitude. Her nervousness isn't normal. I'm not jealous, and I've never prevented Peyton from receiving visitors. I don't understand why she was so nervous with that man. It's as if she's hiding something, and I don't like it at all. Not out of jealousy, but because I feel like I know Peyton less every day.
Camila comes out to the terrace and looks at me nervously.
"Sir, Mrs. Peyton asked me to bring her the document to sign, but she doesn't want you to bring it," she says anxiously.
"Tell her to let me know when she signs it," I say, handing her the folder. "I'm going to work. Please say goodbye to her for me," I say as I leave the house.
"Yes, sir," I hear behind me.
I get in my car and head to the office, but the words of that man, who I must mention is older than me, possibly the same age as my father, won't leave my mind.
When I arrive at work, I find Ethan waiting for me, just what I need, I think. I have him sit down, and I ask my secretary not to disturb us.
My friend looks at me curiously due to my mood. I pour myself a glass of whiskey and down it in one gulp.
"You're not okay, that much is clear. Now tell me why," my friend says, waiting for me to start talking.
"My father asked me to sign a prenuptial agreement, and I couldn't refuse. It's his fortune that I hold in my hands," I say, looking at him.
"I think he's completely right to ask for it. He has every right to do so. Didn't Peyton take it well?" he asks me.
"Yes, she got angry and accused me of not trusting her. But that's not all. I came to see her unexpectedly, and she was with the gentleman who is her neighbor. I overheard him say, 'You know you can count on me, and I'll always be there for you if you decide to accept what I've proposed.' And the worst part is that it didn't bother me. I should be jealous, but I'm upset about being accused of not trusting her because of that damn prenuptial agreement. That man is interested in her, and you don't have to be blind to see it. The question here is, since when has he been proposing something to her? If that's the case, why is he still just her friend? I can't find an answer to that," I say, frustrated.
"Wow, that's something. You left me speechless. That man is about your father's age, more or less. You can't deny that Peyton is attractive, and maybe that's why he said that to her, or it could be something else. We don't know the details. You should talk to her and let her know that you overheard that conversation so she can explain what she meant by those words," my friend advises me.
"You're right, that's what I'll do when she signs the agreement. I left it there for her to read and sign. I told her that if she loves me, the agreement shouldn't matter, but all she said was that I don't trust her," I say, sighing.
"Friend, calm down. You know that when they're pregnant, hormones make them act differently," he reminds me.
"I know, but I feel like I know her less every day," I confess.
"That's not good, my friend. You're about to marry her. You should know her well before taking such an important step," he says.
"I know, friend, believe me, I know," I say, more to myself than to him. "I'm sorry, what brings you here?" I ask, remembering that he's here for a reason.
"Yes, I need to talk to you about a contract and I want your opinion," he says. We change the subject and focus on work, and that's how we spend several hours.