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“That means you should watch your fucking back, man. I wouldn’t want to be on the bad side of Edward Prescott.”
“I’m not scared of Edward. Charlotte is the only person who matters to me.” I stand and take my wallet out, throwing some money onto the bar. “Catch you guys tomorrow.”
I walk through the bar and out into the foyer. I take out my phone and scroll through my numbers.
Alan Shapiro
I dial his number and nod at a woman as she walks past me.
“Hello, Spencer,” Alan answers cheerfully.
“Hi.” I smile. “How is my favourite lawyer this afternoon?”
“Good, good. I haven’t spoken to you in a long time. How can I help you?”
“I need a contract written up urgently.”
“Sure thing. What kind?”
I frown, not knowing how to put this. “I have a new girlfriend and we may be moving in together.”
“Oh, okay. You need a cohabitation agreement. How much are you prepared to give her when you break up?”
“We won’t break up, and it’s not for my protection. It’s for hers.”
He pauses. “I don’t understand. What do you want to give her?”
“I want a contract drawn up saying that I want none of her money if we separate.”
“I doubt she’ll have more money than you.” He scoffs.
“Trust me, she does.”
“Okay, so you want the contract stating that you both leave the relationship with no financial crossover. What you both came in with, you leave with.”
“Yes.”
“What’s her name.”
“Charlotte Prescott.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line.
“You there?” I ask.
“Not Harold Prescott’s daughter?”
“That’s her.”
“Fuck.” I hear him typing, and I know he’s Googling her estimated wealth. “Spence, you need to cover yourself. Don’t be stupid and walk away from that fortune. If you marry her, you’re entitled to it.”
“I don’t want it.” I roll my eyes as I feel
my anger begin to bubble. “Just write me up the fucking contract, okay?”
He exhales heavily. “Think this through, will you?”
“No. Can you do me the contract, or will I get someone else to do it? I don’t want a single penny of her fucking money.”
