Elle sat the last bag of groceries on the counter and began putting things away. They had been gone unexpectedly for several days and everything in the refrigerator had gone bad or was somewhat less than fresh. Elle had returned from the airport and began doing laundry and cleaning out the refrigerator. By the time she had finished that and gone grocery shopping, the sun was setting. Dick would be back any time now and she hadn't even started dinner.
She pulled the small white pharmacy bag out with the celery and paused. Setting the celery in the crisper, she decided to tuck the bag into her purse until later. She didn't want to take the chance that Dick would happen upon it before she had even taken the test. Her grandmother could be wrong . . . It was possible.
Although Elle had never known her to be wrong about anything truly important before.
She sighed. No sense getting all worked up about it now. She went back to putting the groceries away. The intercom from the building's front desk chimed and caught her attention. Elle went to the front door and pushed the button.
"Yes?"
"Package for Arabella Hamilton is at the front desk." Thomas, one of the night security guards, said. "The delivery guy needs a signature."
She wasn't expecting anything. "Go ahead and sign for me, Thomas. I'll be down shortly."
"Can't," his voice came through the intercom sounding nasally. "It has to be signed by you. Official documents of some sort, apparently."
Elle pouted. "Fine. I'll be right down."
She yanked on her Fozzy Bear slippers. They had seen better days, but they were her favorites. Grabbing her keys, Elle locked up behind her and headed downstairs.
The elevator opened onto the lobby and Elle shuffled out, her slippers making a kind of hushed flip-floppy noise. Thomas looked down and smirked.
"Don't say it," she warned.
Thomas chuckled. "Nice slippers."
"Ah, he said it," she cried out dramatically and then stuck out her tongue. "You are just jealous that you have to wear those ugly things instead of a pair of authentic Muppets slippers like mine," she said, pointing at his black dress shoes.
"Uh, yeah," he grinned. "That's it precisely." He pointed to a delivery guy in brown rising to his feet from a convenient chair by the desk. "That's the fellow right over there."
Elle took the pen and quickly signed the sheet on the clipboard. "Do you know who these came from?"
"No ma'am," the guy said politely. "I just deliver them."
Elle glanced at the return address. A Law Office from Chicago, not her own, however. She sighed.
Let the games begin, she thought as she waved good night to Thomas and headed back to the elevator and her eleventh floor apartment. She still needed to make dinner. Randi was covering for her one more night, but with Dick going out, she wondered if she should just go ahead in. Singing might provide the necessary therapy to keep her sanity.
No, she thought as she watched the floor numbers light up in order. I need to see what Aiden is up to and start thinking of another way to travel the distance to Chicago. Despite what everyone thought, Elle had no intention of moving back to the Windy City. Dick's life was here, and she was fairly certain that he wouldn't want to uproot himself to move to Chicago.
Elle was already searching for someone with the experience to take over for her on a day-to-day basis, someone she thought she could trust. In the meantime, she would be forced to make the two hour plus commute at least three times a week in the beginning . . . Starting next Monday.
Something else she hadn't told Dick.
He seemed to think she could handle the company from here via teleconferencing and Fed Ex. Unfortunately, if she wanted to make certain that her father's legacy survived and the company thrived, Elle would be required to make the occasional personal appearance.
All she wanted to do, however, was sing.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Elle tossed the envelope onto the coffee table and went back into the kitchen to put away the rest of the groceries. She suddenly wasn't in the mood to cook. Maybe they could get something delivered. She called for pizza.
Sitting down on the sofa, Elle eyed the envelope warily. She couldn't put it off any longer. She picked it up and opened it. Sliding the documents out, Elle frowned.
"What the hell?" Her voice rose on every word. "That scum-sucking bastard! Aargh! He is not going to get away with this!"
Aiden had pulled off the kid gloves. No wonder he wasn't foaming at the mouth when she tromped his ass at the lawyer's office! He had been angry but Elle had expected him to lose it. He hadn't. He had let her have her way because he had been busy himself apparently. She was surprised he hadn't thrown this in her face then in order to see her expression, but this . . . this way was better.
She had to give him credit. Neither their father nor Elle had expected this move, although maybe she should have. Hadn't he told her often enough that she was too incompetent to run her life, let alone the company?
She looked at the court order in her hand. A summons . . . She had been served, and now had thirty days before she needed to show up for a mental competency hearing.
Aiden was taking her to court in an effort to prove she was incapable of not only running their father's company and the millions he had left her, but her entire life! He wanted to be named as her legal guardian and made her durable power of attorney in matters of finances and mental health!
Her brother had turned her life into a chess game and he just put her into check.
With Elle declared unable to make fit decisions for herself, he could prevent her marriage to Dick and force her back to Chicago. He could confine her to the house or even go so far as to have her institutionalized and place in a mental facility where they could drug her to oblivion. With Aiden in charge of every aspect of her life, he could even prevent Dick from visiting her!
And that . . . That would kill her. Literally.
Elle leapt up from the couch and ran to her desk in the corner. She had a copy of the will filed in the drawer. If she died, was the company supposed to go to Dick? Or was it supposed to go to her husband? If Aiden could prevent their marriage and then allowed her to wither and die while still controlling her assets, would he be able to steal the company and her inheritance?
He would be able to get away with murder! Aiden wouldn't have to touch her, wouldn't have to do a single thing but prevent Dick from seeing her. He could lock her away and forget about her and in a few months someone would call to inform him that despite all their attempts to save her life, his sister had wasted away and died.
And he would get it all . . .
Damn it! If she and Dick got married immediately, she would still have to show up for this hearing and prove she was capable of running her own life and making sound decisions. And if it were determined that she wasn't . . . What would that mean? Could Aiden have the marriage annulled?
Elle's hand slid down to her belly. The baby? IF there was indeed a baby . . . What would happen to it? If she lived to give birth, Elle was certain that Dick could petition the courts for custody of his child. As the biological father, he would win. She knew that Bruce would make certain of it.
But according to Arthur and her father, without contact with her bondmate, a Siren, at best, would only survive a few short months. Three, maybe four if she were lucky. Certainly not the nine required for a full-term pregnancy!
Shaking, Elle pulled the file with her father's will out and laid it on the desk. She began skimming it, searching for the article that determined the fate of the company upon her death. That would tell her if Aiden's plan would work. But Elle felt a growing fear and depression building inside of her. Her brother wouldn't have bothered going to all this trouble if, after everything was said and done, her inheritance went to someone else.
"There you are," she said aloud to an empty room.
Elle read the legal jargon carefully. She frowned and reread it to make certain she had understood it correctly . . . And then sagged in relief.
Her father had instructed that upon her death, Hamilton Industries would go to her bondmate and went so far as to name him, Richard John Grayson-Wayne, or to any children, should they have them. No mention was made to marriage or husband, so that wasn't required prior to her death to ensure that the transfer of her property and assets went to Dick.
Okay, she thought. Okay. It was in Aiden's best interest to keep her alive. He could still lock her away, but he couldn't deny Dick access to Elle without risking her life.
She wondered suddenly if Aiden even knew that particular requirement of the bond. Would he kill her with his ignorance? Somehow, the knowledge that, in the end, he would be losing everything he had hoped to gain didn't really make her feel that much better. Not when she could still die.
Death by ignorance was still death.
She had to fight this.
Elle's mind began to race. She knew without saying that Aiden had already bribed a psychiatrist for his testimony, likely more than one. She would need to get her own psychiatrists, her own witnesses, her own lawyers that were well-versed in this sort of case. She would need to talk to Dick. Picking a date never seemed so important than now. It was possible that even should she be found legally incompetent, if she were already married, that maybe the court would allow Dick to be named her guardian.
She ran back to the court summons and read it over again. The hearing would take place in Chicago, meaning that Aiden would have the judge in his pocket. She would see if she could petition to have the case moved to Bludhaven or, better yet, to Gotham City. As long as it was still within the state, the hearing could be held technically anywhere.
Thirty days . . . That didn't leave her with much time to prepare, but it couldn't be much harder than convincing seven members of her board of directors and upward 100 stockholders to vote to release control of a successful, viable part of their company, especially since it wasn't even being sold for a profit. But she had done it.
She could do this, too.