Chapter 8 Legal Taboo

# Chapter 8: Legal Taboo

Three weeks passed in our exile at the guest house. Three weeks of silence from the main house, broken only by Mrs. Reynolds's daily deliveries of food and necessities, her disapproval evident in her pinched expression and clipped words. Three weeks of Callum making calls, sending emails, consulting with lawyers about our precarious legal situation.

Three weeks of wondering if I'd made the biggest mistake of my life.

"You're brooding again," Callum observed, coming up behind me as I stood at the window, watching the main house for signs of life. His arms encircled my waist, pulling me against him. "He'll break first, I promise."

I leaned back into his embrace, drawing comfort from his warmth. "It's not just Thomas I'm worried about. The gallery called yesterday. Apparently, my 'leave of absence' has been extended indefinitely."

"My father's doing," Callum confirmed, his lips brushing my temple. "Cutting off your independence, hoping you'll come crawling back."

"And what about you?" I turned in his arms to face him. "Has he cut you off too?"

A shadow crossed Callum's face. "He's frozen my main accounts, but I told you—I have resources he can't touch. We're not destitute, Juliette."

"But we're trapped," I pointed out. "Security still watches the gates. We're prisoners in a very lovely cage."

Callum's expression hardened. "Not for much longer. My lawyers have been building our case, and Clara's been notably absent from the estate. I think Thomas is realizing he can't win this."

As if summoned by our conversation, my phone rang—Thomas's private number flashing on the screen. Callum and I exchanged glances before I answered, putting it on speaker.

"Juliette," Thomas's voice was controlled, formal. "I'd like to speak with you and my son. Dinner tonight, eight o'clock, in the main house."

"Are we allowed back in now?" I couldn't keep the edge from my voice.

A pause. "Security has been instructed to admit you both. This is a private family matter that requires... resolution."

"We'll be there," Callum interjected, his hand covering mine on the phone.

"Good." Thomas's tone softened slightly. "And Juliette? Wear the blue dress. The one from Venice."

The line went dead before I could respond. Callum's eyes narrowed. "The blue dress?"

"A gift from him," I explained, remembering the midnight blue silk gown Thomas had bought during our honeymoon. "It's... revealing."

Callum's jaw tightened. "He's playing games. Reminding you of your history with him."

"Does it matter?" I moved away, suddenly restless. "He's finally willing to talk. That's what we wanted, isn't it?"

Callum caught my wrist, pulling me back to him. "What I want," he said, his voice low and intense, "is for you to walk into that dining room tonight as my wife, not his. I want him to see exactly what he's lost."

His kiss was possessive, demanding, his hands tangling in my hair as he backed me toward the bed. We fell onto it together, his weight a welcome anchor as he pinned me beneath him.

"Wear the dress," he murmured against my throat, his hands already working at the buttons of my blouse. "But wear these marks too."

His mouth found the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. I gasped, arching against him as he continued his assault on my senses, branding me with his lips and teeth and hands until I was crying out his name, all thoughts of Thomas forgotten in the storm of our passion.

Later, as we lay tangled in the sheets, Callum traced idle patterns on my bare skin. "No matter what he says tonight," he said quietly, "remember you're mine now. Legally. Irrevocably."

I turned to face him, struck by the vulnerability beneath his confident exterior. For all his machinations and manipulations, Callum was afraid—afraid of losing me back to his father.

"I know who I belong with," I assured him, pressing a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "I made my choice."

At precisely eight o'clock, we entered the main house for the first time in three weeks. The familiar grandeur of the entrance hall felt different now—less welcoming, more imposing. Callum's hand rested protectively at the small of my back as we were escorted to the formal dining room.

Thomas stood as we entered, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that emphasized his still-impressive physique. Despite the thirty-year age gap between father and son, the family resemblance was striking—same aristocratic features, same commanding presence. But where Callum's eyes burned with intensity, Thomas's were cool, assessing.

"Juliette," he greeted me first, his gaze taking in the blue dress and, I was certain, the faint marks visible on my neck despite my careful application of makeup. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.

"Callum." Thomas acknowledged his son with a curt nod. "Please, sit."

The table was set for three, an intimate gathering that belied the tension crackling in the air. As we took our seats, I noticed the wine—the same vintage we'd shared in Italy, the night Callum and I first crossed the line. A deliberate choice, I was certain.

"I've had time to consider our... situation," Thomas began after the first course was served. "And while I find the circumstances reprehensible, I recognize the legal complexity you've created."

Callum leaned back in his chair, outwardly relaxed though I could sense his tension. "And?"

"And I propose a compromise," Thomas continued. "One that allows us all to save face while preserving the Ashford legacy."

"I'm listening," Callum said, his tone carefully neutral.

Thomas's eyes moved between us. "Juliette remains my wife in name and public perception. She returns to the main house, resumes her duties as Mrs. Thomas Ashford, including management of the gallery."

My stomach tightened. "And Callum?"

"Callum returns to his position at Ashford Enterprises, with an increased ownership stake and expanded authority. He maintains his separate residence in Mayfair."

"And our marriage?" Callum demanded. "The legal union you're so eager to dismiss?"

Thomas's smile was thin. "Remains a private family matter. What happens behind closed doors is... discretionary."

I stared at him, understanding dawning. "You're suggesting I live as your wife publicly while... what? Secretly continuing a relationship with Callum?"

"I'm suggesting a practical solution to an impossible situation," Thomas corrected. "One that preserves appearances while acknowledging certain... realities."

Callum's laugh was sharp, humorless. "You're proposing to share your wife with your son. How very progressive of you, Father."

"I'm proposing to salvage what remains of this family's dignity," Thomas snapped, his composure cracking. "Unless you'd prefer I contest the validity of your 'marriage' in court? Air our dirty laundry for the world to see?"

"You wouldn't," Callum challenged. "The scandal would destroy Ashford Enterprises."

"Perhaps," Thomas conceded. "But it would destroy you both as well. Are you prepared for that, son? To watch Juliette's reputation shredded in the press? To see her painted as a gold-digging adulteress who couldn't decide which Ashford man to bed?"

The crude words landed like blows. I pushed my plate away, my appetite gone. "I'm sitting right here, Thomas. Don't talk about me as if I'm not in the room."

Both men turned to me, momentarily united in their surprise at my outburst.

"What do you want, Juliette?" Thomas asked, his voice gentler. "Beyond the legal entanglements, beyond the power plays between Callum and myself. What future do you envision?"

It was the question I'd been avoiding for weeks, the one that haunted me in the quiet moments when Callum slept beside me. What did I want?

"I want..." I began, then faltered. The truth was complicated, messy. "I want freedom. Not to be owned or controlled by either of you."

Callum reached for my hand. "You're my wife, not my possession."

"Am I?" I challenged, pulling my hand away. "Then why does it feel like I've traded one golden cage for another? You and Thomas, you're two sides of the same coin—both so determined to win, to possess, that you've forgotten I'm a person, not a prize."

A heavy silence fell over the table. Thomas was the first to break it, refilling his wine glass with deliberate care.

"Perhaps we all need time to reflect," he suggested. "The situation is... unprecedented."

"There's nothing to reflect on," Callum insisted. "Juliette is legally my wife now. Whatever arrangement you're proposing—"

"Is worth considering," I interrupted, surprising both men again. "A compromise might be the only way forward."

Callum stared at me, betrayal flickering in his eyes. "You can't be serious."

"I'm pragmatic," I countered. "Just like you taught me to be."

Before Callum could respond, the dining room doors opened, and Clara entered. Her appearance was clearly unexpected—Thomas straightened in his chair, while Callum's expression darkened.

"I apologize for the interruption," she said smoothly, though her expression suggested she was anything but sorry. "But there's a situation that requires immediate attention."

"This is a private family dinner, Clara," Thomas said, his tone warning.

She smiled, a predatory curve of red lips. "Yes, I can see that. How... domestic. But I'm afraid this can't wait." She placed a manila folder on the table. "The board has called an emergency meeting for tomorrow morning. Concerning the leadership of Ashford Enterprises."

Thomas's face paled. "On what grounds?"

"Breach of fiduciary duty. Conflict of interest." Clara's eyes slid to me, then Callum. "The unusual marital situation has come to light, I'm afraid. Some board members are concerned about the implications for company governance."

"How did they find out?" Callum demanded, rising from his chair.

Clara's expression was the picture of innocence. "Anonymous tip, I believe. With copies of certain... documents."

The marriage certificate. Someone—Clara, almost certainly—had leaked our secret to the board.

Thomas stood slowly, his face a mask of controlled fury. "Leave us, Clara. I'll deal with this."

"Of course," she agreed, though she made no move toward the door. "But there is one more thing. The board has requested Mrs. Ashford's presence at tomorrow's meeting." Her smile widened. "Though they weren't specific about which Mrs. Ashford they meant."

After she left, the silence in the dining room was deafening. Thomas paced the length of the table, his expression thunderous. Callum remained standing, his hands braced on the table as if to steady himself.

"This changes everything," Thomas said finally. "The board will demand clarity. A public statement about the family situation."

"Then we'll give them one," Callum declared. He moved to my side, pulling me to my feet. "We'll tell them the truth. That Juliette and I are legally married, that our union supersedes her marriage to you under the Consanguinity Clause."

"And destroy decades of carefully cultivated reputation?" Thomas scoffed. "The Ashford name would become a laughingstock."

"Maybe it's time for a new Ashford legacy," Callum countered. "One built on truth rather than appearances."

Thomas's laugh was bitter. "Truth? Is that what you call this twisted arrangement? You stole my wife, Callum. Your stepmother."

"I didn't steal her," Callum's voice rose. "She chose me. She's been choosing me every day since Italy."

"Stop it!" I intervened, stepping between them. "Both of you, just stop. This isn't helping."

They fell silent, two proud men momentarily chastened by my outburst.

"Tomorrow, at the board meeting," I said, finding my resolve, "I'll make a statement. But it will be my statement, not either of yours. It's time I spoke for myself."

Thomas regarded me with surprise, then something like respect. "And what will you say, Juliette?"

I met his gaze steadily. "The truth. Or at least, my version of it."

That night, back in the guest house, Callum and I prepared for the confrontation to come. He worked at his laptop, drafting statements and scenarios, while I sat by the window, watching the lights of the main house where Thomas undoubtedly was doing the same.

"What did you mean?" Callum asked suddenly, looking up from his work. "About 'your version' of the truth?"

I turned to face him, struck by how young he looked in that moment—not the calculating businessman or passionate lover, but a man facing the possible loss of everything he valued.

"I meant that there are multiple truths in this situation," I explained. "Your father sees me as his wife, stolen by his son. You see me as your soulmate, rightfully yours despite circumstances. Clara sees me as an interloper, disrupting the Ashford dynasty."

"And how do you see yourself?" he asked quietly.

I moved to him, kneeling beside his chair and taking his hands in mine. "As a woman who made choices—some good, some questionable—but my choices nonetheless. And tomorrow, I'm going to own them."

His eyes searched mine. "You won't leave me?"

The vulnerability in his question made my heart ache. "No, Callum. I won't leave you. But I won't let either you or Thomas define me anymore."

The next morning, we arrived at Ashford Enterprises' downtown headquarters to find the boardroom already full—twelve board members, Thomas at the head of the table, Clara by his side. All eyes turned to us as we entered, Callum's hand protectively at the small of my back.

"Mr. Ashford, Mrs. Ashford," the board chairman greeted us, the ambiguity of the address not lost on anyone. "Please, join us."

As we took our seats, I could feel the weight of judgment in the room—these powerful men and women who controlled the Ashford fortune, now tasked with unraveling our unconventional situation.

"We've called this meeting," the chairman began, "to address concerns about the... unusual family circumstances that have recently come to light. Specifically, the alleged marriage between Callum Ashford and Juliette Ashford, who is also legally married to Thomas Ashford."

Murmurs rippled through the room. One board member, an elderly man I recognized from charity functions, looked particularly disturbed. "If these allegations are true, we're talking about bigamy—a criminal offense. Not to mention the moral implications."

"The legal situation is complex but legitimate," Callum interjected. "Under the Consanguinity Clause—"

"We've reviewed the legal documentation," the chairman cut him off. "While the marriage may exist in some technical legal limbo, the practical and ethical concerns remain. This board must consider the impact on company governance, public perception, and shareholder value."

Thomas cleared his throat. "If I may, I have a proposal that addresses these concerns while preserving the integrity of Ashford Enterprises."

All eyes turned to him expectantly. This was it—the moment of truth. Whatever Thomas proposed now would set the course for all our futures.

"I've decided to step down as CEO," he announced, shocking the room into silence. "Effective immediately. I will remain on the board in an advisory capacity, but operational control of Ashford Enterprises will pass to my son, Callum."

Gasps and whispers filled the room. Clara's face had gone pale, her perfectly manicured hands gripping the arms of her chair.

"As for the personal situation," Thomas continued, his eyes finding mine across the table, "I will be initiating divorce proceedings. Juliette and Callum's marriage will be recognized as the primary legal union."

I stared at him, stunned by this unexpected capitulation. This wasn't the compromise he'd proposed last night—this was surrender.

"Thomas," I began, but he held up a hand to silence me.

"There's more," he said, his voice carrying a note of finality. "In the interests of transparency, I should inform the board that I signed a prenuptial waiver with Juliette before our marriage—a fact that has only recently come to my attention. This waiver effectively acknowledges the possibility of her future marriage within the family, making her union with Callum not only legal but... anticipated."

The board chairman frowned. "A prenuptial waiver? We were not aware of this document."

"It wasn't relevant until now," Thomas replied smoothly. "But in light of recent events, I've had my legal team review it. The document is binding."

Clara stood abruptly. "This is absurd! There was no such waiver. Thomas, what are you doing?"

But I understood. The "waiver" was a fiction—a face-saving lie that would allow Thomas to step aside gracefully while preserving the Ashford name from scandal. He was offering us a way out, at the cost of his own pride.

"The document exists," I confirmed, meeting Thomas's eyes with newfound respect. "I signed it before our wedding."

Callum squeezed my hand under the table, a silent acknowledgment of the game we were now all playing.

The chairman sighed heavily. "Well, this changes the nature of our concerns. If the situation was... prearranged, legally sanctioned... the board's primary interest shifts to ensuring stable leadership during this transition."

"Which I am prepared to provide," Callum stated firmly. "With Juliette by my side as my wife."

After hours of questions, clarifications, and tense negotiations, the board finally adjourned, conditionally accepting Thomas's resignation and Callum's appointment as CEO, pending legal verification of the mysterious "waiver" that Thomas promised would be provided to their attorneys.

As we left the boardroom, Thomas caught my arm, holding me back as Callum walked ahead with several board members.

"Why?" I asked quietly. "Why give up everything?"

His smile was tired, resigned. "Because some battles aren't worth the cost of winning." He glanced toward Callum. "He is my son, after all. And you..." His fingers brushed my cheek in a final, gentle caress. "You were never really mine to keep."

Before I could respond, he walked away, leaving me standing alone in the corridor, the weight of his sacrifice settling on my shoulders like a mantle.

That evening, Callum and I attended the Ashford Foundation's annual charity gala—our first public appearance as a couple. The ballroom fell into a hush as we entered, curious eyes and whispered speculations following our every move.

"Ready for this?" Callum asked, his hand warm against my back.

I nodded, straightening my shoulders. "As I'll ever be."

We moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations from those who had already heard of Callum's promotion, deflecting subtle inquiries about Thomas's absence, presenting a united front to the world that had yet to understand the full complexity of our situation.

As the orchestra began to play, Callum led me to the center of the dance floor. In the circle of his arms, with the eyes of London's elite upon us, I finally asked the question that had been burning in my mind since the board meeting.

"Did you know? About Thomas's plan to step down?"

Callum's expression revealed nothing. "Would it matter if I did?"

"It would to me," I insisted. "This was your endgame all along, wasn't it? To take control of Ashford Enterprises with me as your wife—the ultimate coup."

His arms tightened around me. "My endgame was you, Juliette. Everything else was... collateral benefit."

Before I could press further, the music stopped, and Thomas appeared at the edge of the dance floor. The crowd parted for him, whispers following in his wake. He looked every inch the patriarch—dignified, composed, his silver hair gleaming under the chandeliers.

With deliberate steps, he approached us. The room held its collective breath, anticipating scandal, confrontation. Instead, Thomas extended his hand to Callum.

"May I cut in?" he asked, his voice carrying in the hushed ballroom. "One dance with the bride seems traditional, even in these... unconventional circumstances."

A test. A public statement. A passing of the torch.

Callum hesitated only briefly before nodding, placing my hand in his father's. "Of course, Father."

As Thomas led me into a waltz, his hand respectfully proper at my waist, he leaned close to whisper in my ear. "You know he planned this from the beginning, don't you? From the moment you married me, he was plotting to take everything—the company, my position... you."

I maintained my smile, aware of the watching eyes. "And yet you've given it all to him willingly."

"Not willingly," Thomas corrected. "Strategically. There are many kinds of power, Juliette. Callum has yet to learn that."

The dance ended, and Thomas stepped back, bowing formally. Then, in a gesture that sent ripples of shock through the watching crowd, he took my hand and placed it in Callum's, who had materialized at his side.

"She is my father's widow," Callum announced, his voice carrying to every corner of the ballroom as he pulled me possessively against him, "and my wife, the only legal heir to the Ashford legacy."

The declaration hung in the air, scandalous yet somehow triumphant. Thomas nodded once—acknowledgment, acceptance, abdication—and walked away, leaving us standing alone in the center of the floor.

"Was it worth it?" I asked Callum quietly as the music resumed and the crowd gradually returned to their conversations, now laced with fresh gossip. "Everything we did to get here?"

His answer was to kiss me, there in front of everyone—a claiming, a declaration, a promise. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were alight with something that looked like victory, but might have been love.

"Every moment," he assured me. "Every risk. Every betrayal."

And as he led me from the ballroom into the waiting car, I caught a final glimpse of Thomas, standing alone at the bar, raising his glass in our direction—a salute from the man who had created the empire we now ruled.

Outside, rain had begun to fall, reminding me of that first day at the gallery when Thomas had noticed me, setting this whole impossible story in motion. But it was Callum's hand in mine now, Callum's ring on my finger, Callum's future intertwined with my own.

I stepped into the car, leaving behind the Ashford mansion and all its shadows. Ahead lay a new life—morally ambiguous, legally complicated, emotionally turbulent, but undeniably mine. Ours.

"Home?" Callum asked as the driver closed the door.

I leaned against him, both exhausted and exhilarated by all we had survived, all we had become. "Home."