“Couldn’t have said that better myself, Son,” Tucker’s father butted in, making the man sitting beside me cringe. The last person he wanted to be seen as pleasing, was his father. The elder Tucker really was a cheating bastard who had no problem using his son in order to further the family’s business where he, himself wasn’t able to. I imagine that he thought once his son inherited the family’s wealth that the son would share it with his father. Somehow, I didn’t think that was how things would turn out, but I guess Reginald didn’t realize that just yet.

I reached down and patted Tucker’s thigh, because I understood how that must have made him feel. Despite our differences, we both had been pawns in our family’s maneuvers, even if my father had seen fit to back out in the end.

“While we’re all here,” Tucker’s grandfather announced, “I need to make sure that you sign this.” The man tossed what had to be a thirty-page document down the table to land in front of my plate with a solid thud. It also almost knocked over my own half-full glass of sweet tea. Rude.

“What is this?” I asked.

“I recently received a copy of that ridiculous pre-nuptial agreement the two of you signed, and there were some items of importance left out.” He cleared his throat and looked pleased as punch with himself as he continued. “I took it upon myself to have my lawyer look it over and address all the areas of weakness, and the lack of clarity about what future children might inherit.”

“You did what?” Tucker asked as I glanced down at the document in front of me.

“As you pointed out, I already signed a prenup, and we are legally married, so it’s a bit late for that,” I told Mr. Brighton. Still, I started flipping through the pages and scanning over them quickly. Once again, there was a lot of unnecessary legalese included, which stacked up the page count ridiculously in my opinion.

“Any children of mine, that are not linked by DNA to Mr. Tucker through valid DNA testing will get nothing, not even a stake in the company my father started,” I paraphrased. “Oh, but this gets juicy, any children, no matter their maternal DNA, who are produced by Mr. Tucker are entitled to a portion of our estate – including anything I bring to the table.” I glanced up at Mr. Brighton. “That doesn’t really seem fair.”

“It’s a post nuptial agreement, one that cover’s my family’s assets, and you will sign it,” he demanded.

“Actually, I don’t think I will, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to force my hand. Plus, there are all these witnesses here to testify to the fact that I refused, should my name somehow magically end up scrawled on this toilet paper that you call a legal document.”

“Young lady, you will not speak to me in such a manner.”

“I’m sorry,” I let the apology settle for just a few short seconds before I took it one step further. “I am from a generation that is fond of giving respect where it is due, and expecting it back in equal measure whether I have a penis swinging between my legs or not. I have never done anything to be treated like the garbage this contract insinuates I am. Firstly, no matter what verbal agreements there are, I would never actually go against the vows I took when I married your grandson. That’s because my word means something to me. So, there wouldn’t be a concern about children I might have outside of my marriage.