Back in the day, my father was the most notorious social climber in the city’s elite circles—a man whose only real talent was being breathtakingly handsome and professionally charming. Eventually, my mother, a billionaire tech mogul with a spine of titanium, "bought" him. She brought him into the family like a prize stallion, making him sign a prenuptial agreement so restrictive it was practically a bill of sale. When I decided to follow in her footsteps by choosing Parker, my childhood sweetheart, to be my "trophy husband," my father locked himself in his study and refused to give his blessing. I was standing outside his door, ready to tear into him for his hypocrisy, when a flicker of light blurred my vision. Floating in mid-air, glowing like neon signage, were lines of digital text—a live feed of comments only I could see. [Parker is your father’s secret son! His mother was Arthur’s "One That Got Away"!] My blood ran cold. I turned my gaze toward Brooks, another man I’d considered a backup option. The "bullet comments" scrolled faster: [Brooks is a no-go, too! His mother was the "forbidden fruit" your dad spent the 90s chasing. He’s your half-brother!] I took a sharp breath, my eyes darting toward the third candidate, Zack. The comments exploded: [Don’t even bother. His mom was your dad’s favorite mistress back in the day!] [Right now, those three women are inside your father’s study, plotting how to bleed your mother’s estate dry!] [Disgusting! They’re actually making out. A four-way tryst in his own house? This man is a menace!] A chill settled in my marrow, turning into a sharp, icy resolve. A four-way? Why settle for four when I could invite the whole neighborhood? I pulled out my phone and sent a mass text to a group chat I’d hoped I’d never have to use: "Uncles, there’s been a change of plans regarding the merger and the marriage. My father is waiting in his study to discuss the details with you personally. Right now." ... 1 My name is Callie Wickham, the sole heiress to the Wickham empire. In our world, a daughter like me doesn’t just marry; she acquires. Every major family in the city was desperate to marry a son into our line. The moment I hit send, the fathers of Parker, Brooks, and Zack replied almost instantly. The first to arrive was Parker’s father, Mr. Montgomery. A titan in the entertainment industry, he was married to Vanessa—a woman my father had spent his youth pining for. Mr. Montgomery happened to be nearby at a gala. When he heard "merger talk," he arrived with his usual entourage and a pack of hungry reporters trailing him, smelling a PR scoop. I had my staff lead them straight to the third floor. He looked at the four of us—me and the three "candidates"—standing outside the heavy oak doors. "Callie? Why are you all out here? Arthur said he wanted to talk business. Where is he?" I let my eyes well up with practiced, heartbreaking tears. "Mr. Montgomery... Dad is being impossible. He knows how much Parker and I mean to each other, but he’s refusing to sign the blessing. He won’t listen to anyone. You’re his oldest friend—please, try to talk sense into him." Mr. Montgomery’s face darkened. He had the press waiting at the gates, expecting a wedding announcement. If this fell through, the Montgomerys would be the laughingstock of the season. He and my father had been "brothers" since prep school. They’d drank, gambled, and apparently shared the same women for decades. He thought he knew Arthur. He thought Arthur was just being stubborn. He stepped forward and hammered on the door. "Arthur! Open up! We need to talk!" "If this is about the past, about Vanessa, let it go, man! Don’t take it out on the kids!" From inside the room, I heard the sharp clink of a glass shattering. A few seconds later, my father’s voice drifted through the wood, sounding eerily composed. "Not now, Monty. I’m not feeling well. I’ll come to your office in a few days to apologize in person." To an outsider, he sounded tired. To me, he sounded like a man scrambling to zip up his pants. The comments on my HUD were losing it: [LMAO! The husband shows up and the "Alpha" immediately loses his nerve!] [Callie is a genius. Bringing the cuckolds directly to the crime scene.] [Vanessa just dropped her glass in panic. She’s barely breathing.] [Arthur is such a dog. He’s literally whispering in her ear right now, asking if she finds the risk "thrilling."] Thrilling? I smiled thinly. Just wait, Dad. The ride hasn't even started. 2 The study was a fortress. The doors were custom-made, reinforced steel with a mahogany veneer. Once locked from the inside, you’d need a SWAT team to breach them. My father relied on that. But he forgot one thing: I was the one who updated the house’s smart-tech last year. The locks were electronic. In the event of a total power failure, the failsafe would trigger. Once the backup battery drained, the magnets would release. I signaled the butler to cut the main breaker to the West Wing. I hadn’t told my mother about the "comments." It was too insane to explain. Besides, she loved Arthur in her own way—a deep, tragic loyalty that only a total, public humiliation could break. She needed to see the rot for herself. I stepped closer to the door, raising my voice so the occupants inside couldn't miss a word. "Dad, I’m not giving up! If you won’t give us your blessing, Parker will stay on his knees out here until you do!" Parker, sensing a moment for drama, dropped to his knees immediately. "Mr. Wickham! You’ve always treated me like a son. Please, let us be together!" Mr. Montgomery joined in, his voice booming. "Arthur, the boy is begging! Don’t make me get down there with him! Just open the damn door!" Silence followed. Mr. Montgomery’s patience snapped. He began to kick the door. "Arthur! What the hell is wrong with you? Just because you married into money doesn't mean you can look down on your brothers! Get out here and face me!" I looked at the feed: [Vanessa is freaking out. She just pinched Arthur so hard he almost screamed. If she makes a sound, she’s toast.] [This is a pressure cooker. If he doesn't open the door, the Montgomery-Wickham bridge is burned forever.] [Wait, Margot is moving toward the window!] [Callie! Get someone below the balcony! They’re trying to climb down from the third floor!] The window? By my calculations, the "window cleaners" I’d hired should be right on time. My father was cautious. He pulled Margot—the "Cinnabar Mole" mistress—aside and peeked through a crack in the heavy curtains. Seeing no one on the lawn below, he let out a sigh of relief and yanked the curtains open to let some air into the sweltering, un-airconditioned room. He turned to grab his lovers’ hands to lead them to the balcony, but he froze. Three safety ropes dropped into view. Three men in high-vis vests and helmets, holding squeegees and buckets, descended from the roof like paratroopers. They stopped right at the glass, staring directly at my father and his three scantily-clad companions. My father’s face went from pale to purple. He slammed the curtains shut. "Callie! Who the hell are those people outside the window? Get them out of here!" I kept my voice sweet and innocent. "Oh, sorry, Dad! I forgot to tell you. I scheduled a deep-clean of the exterior glass. I told them you like things spotless. I told them to spend at least three hours on your study windows until they can see their reflections in them!" A long pause. Then, through gritted teeth: "Fine. Tell them to keep... scrubbing." Mr. Montgomery was livid now. "Arthur! I come here to talk about our families, and you’re worrying about the windows? You’re ignoring me? If you don’t open this door, we are through!" I looked at Mr. Montgomery with genuine pity. My father had been sleeping with his wife for twenty years while "Monty" called him his best friend. Suddenly, a heavy thud echoed from inside the room. The comments cheered: [Hahaha! Margot just fainted from heatstroke!] [Who wears a velvet cat-suit for a secret tryst in July? She’s literally steaming.] [Callie’s power cut is doing the work. It’s 95 degrees in there and rising. They’re sweating out their secrets.] [Open the door or get baked alive. What’s it gonna be, Arthur?] 3 Suddenly, Parker scrambled to his feet. He was clutching his phone, his face ghost-white. He shot a panicked look at me, then turned to my mother, who had just walked down the hall. His voice was trembling. "Mrs. Wickham... I can't do this. I’m not marrying Callie." "Your family clearly looks down on us. This is an insult! Dad, we’re leaving. I don’t need to marry into this circus!" He grabbed Mr. Montgomery’s arm, trying to drag him toward the stairs. The comments warned me: [The jig is up! Vanessa just texted Parker. She told him he’s Arthur’s son and they’re trapped in the study. She told him to cause a distraction so they can escape!] I didn't blink. If Parker left, I still had Brooks and Zack. And their fathers were just arriving. The more, the merrier. Seeing Parker "forfeit," Zack immediately stepped into the vacuum. "Callie, if Parker’s too weak, I’ll do it. I’ve always loved you. I’ll sign whatever prenup your mother wants. Your dad likes me best anyway—he’ll agree if it’s me." Brooks sneered at him, stepping forward with his smooth, calculated charm. "Callie, I’m the more stable choice. I’ll take care of you and the company. You won't regret picking me." Take care of the company? You mean liquidate it, I thought. I looked at them with "tears" of gratitude. "I’m so moved. Dad! I’ve changed my mind! I don't want Parker. I want Brooks!" Inside the room, the silence was broken by a roar. "No! Absolutely not!" My father’s voice sounded like it was tearing his throat. I didn't stop. "If Brooks is a no, then I’ll take Zack! They both want to join the family, Dad! You can pick whichever one you like!" My father let out a scream that cracked his voice. "Not Brooks! And definitely not Zack!" I let a note of suspicion creep into my tone. "Dad, why are you being like this? You don't like Parker, you don't like Brooks, you don't like Zack... do you have some kind of secret grudge against their fathers? Mr. Blackwood? Mr. Callahan?" My father’s voice was distorted with rage. "I! Do! Not!" "They are fine young men! Too fine for you! Callie, you don't deserve them!" The hallway went dead silent. My mother’s face hardened into a mask of cold fury. Before she could speak, I touched her hand, signaling her to wait. I could see the other two fathers, Mr. Blackwood and Mr. Callahan, standing at the end of the corridor. They had heard everything. 4 Mr. Callahan, Zack’s father, strode forward. He was a rugged, broad-shouldered man who had been my mother’s high school sweetheart. He’d never quite gotten over her, and he’d spent the last twenty years hating my father for "winning" her. "Arthur, you son of a bitch," Callahan growled. "What did you just say about Callie? She’s twice the person you are. My son would be lucky to have her!" My father had always been jealous of Callahan. But that hadn't stopped him from seducing Callahan’s wife. Mr. Blackwood, Brooks’ father, was the calm one—the corporate lawyer type. He placed a hand on Callahan’s shoulder. "Arthur, let’s be civil. We’re here to talk about a merger of families. Open the door. Let’s not let things get ugly." A few minutes of agonizing silence passed. Then, another thud from inside. "Callie!" my father shrieked. "The power! You did this, didn't you?" The feed was a blur of text: [Arthur’s face is literally green. He knows all three husbands are standing outside.] [First mistress down, second mistress is hyperventilating. The third is trying to hide in the closet.] [This is peak cinema.] I called out to the door, sounding worried. "Dad, I’m so sorry! I think I accidentally tripped the main breaker while looking for my engagement ring. The staff is working on it! Is it too hot in there? Maybe you should just open the door and get some air?" Another thud. "Dad? Dad! Are you fainting? Oh my god, someone call 911! Tell the fire department we need a forced entry for a medical emergency!" Zack and Brooks turned pale. They shouted in unison: "No!" "Don't call them!" Zack yelled. "I... I don't want to marry her anymore!" They looked at each other, the realization of their mothers' secret messages finally sinking in. Their faces turned a sickly shade of gray. Zack stepped in front of the door, shielding it. "Callie, you’re insane! You’re trying to kill your own father! I wouldn't marry a monster like you if you were the last woman on earth!" Brooks joined him, shaking his head. "I thought you were just spoiled, Callie. But this? Disrespecting your father like this? I’m out. The deal is off." My mother’s eyes were like chips of ice. To the world, it looked like her daughter was being rejected and insulted by three "suitors" at once. It was a public execution of the Wickham reputation. Mr. Callahan, seeing my mother’s pain, lost it. He grabbed Zack by the collar and threw him aside. "You shut your mouth! If Arthur won't come out, I’ll bring him out!" He began to kick the door with the force of a sledgehammer. Mr. Montgomery, fueled by decades of repressed suspicion, grabbed a heavy bronze bust from a pedestal and began to ram the lock. Even the stoic Mr. Blackwood joined in, throwing his weight against the wood. The three sons scrambled to stop them, resulting in a chaotic, six-man brawl in the hallway. Punches were thrown, shirts were torn, but the door held. Until my father’s voice rang out one last time, high and desperate. "Callie! You ungrateful brat! Tell them to leave now, or I swear I will disown you! I will leave this family and you'll never see me again!" My mother’s face went bloodless. Everyone stopped. They all turned to look at me. In that hollow, ringing silence, a soft click echoed. The backup battery had finally died. The door swung slowly open...
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