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Johnathan Dufort had thought he had a copy at home in his own files, along with the one kept in the vault at Dufort Dynasty.
Apparently not.
His father ran a hand over his face.
Shit.
“Father. Tell me.”
Johnathan slammed his fist down onto the arm of the sofa next to him.
“He has said we have thirty days to pay, or he wants his daughter married into the Dufort family. The prenup cannot exclude her from the Dynasty shares.”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Daniel growled.
He knew what was coming next.
“She has asked for you.”
