Kery’s new book releases on February 22. She describes is as “twisty mystery that will hopefully offer some shivers and thrills, as well as some romantic feels.”

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Excerpt:

“I want to make it clear what you’ll inherit in the event of my death. I know to someone who’s so young, it must seem uncomfortable to speak of it. But it’s important that things like this are set into place now.”

“Not just in the case of Evan’s death. In the case of divorce, as well,” Hathaway added.

I strained to keep my expression neutral. This was part of the grownup world I was entering. I had to deal with it.

“You mean a prenuptial agreement, don’t you?” I asked Evan.

Evan gave Hathaway a sharp glance. Hathaway looked down at Evan’s silent reproach. I understood Evan was angry at his lawyer’s insensitive introduction of the topic. His tone sounded level enough when he spoke to me, though.

“Yes. Jerome has prepared a will and a prenuptial agreement for us to sign.” He sighed and closed his eyes briefly. “I can tell from the look on your face that you think this is cruel of me, Anna. But—”

“I don’t think it’s cruel,” I interrupted. “I realize that you’re a very successful man. You have homes and cars and boats. You have investments and savings, and God knows what else.” God knows, because I certainly don’t. But I met his stare squarely. “None of that has anything to do with me. I don’t own much of anything of value. If, God forbid, our marriage doesn’t work out—”

“This isn’t a matter of me being cynical. It’s a matter of practicality,” Evan interrupted.

“I’d walk away with what I brought into the marriage,” I continued, unfazed. “Please don’t think that I have a problem with that.”

“Evan has provided you with much, much more than the clothes on your back, even in the case of divorce. You’re a very fortunate young woman, Ms. Solas,” Hathaway said with a bitter, sly little smile that I didn’t like. I didn’t like him.

Hathaway handed me a packet of papers. I stared at it without comprehending much until Hathaway flipped a page and pointed at a paragraph. My eyes widened when I saw the number and the amount of zeroes that followed it.

“Is this the will or the prenuptial agreement?” I asked hollowly.

“The prenup,” Hathaway said as he walked behind the desk. From the tone of his voice, I understood that Hathaway had drawn up the agreement to Evan’s specifications, but didn’t agree with the wisdom of it. In fact, I had the impression he’d probably argued heatedly with Evan over the topic.

I was stunned. It was more money than I’d ever imagined in my life.

I looked at Evan, confused. He planned to give me that much money, even if I divorced him on a whim? He gave me a small smile.

“Your father has a legal background. We’ll have him take a look at these, as well. But they’re pretty cut and dried. I don’t want you to have to worry, in any circumstance.”

I turned my head, so that Hathaway couldn’t hear or read my lips, and whispered to Evan.

“It’s too much. I don’t expect it. Any of it.”

His smile struck me as a little bitter and very sad.

“It’s for putting up with me. No matter for how long. Who knows, in a few months, you may think that number is way too low,” he said. I opened my mouth to protest, but he stood.

“I’ll go and get your father. You two can read through the documents thoroughly together. Jerome is going to stay to answer any questions, and of course, you or your father are welcome to call a family attorney if further consultation is needed.”

My dad came to the study, and Evan insisted on giving us privacy. After staying for a while, Hathaway eventually left as well, saying he’d pick up the documents in the morning.

Nearly two hours later, my father and I still sat together at a round table in Evan’s study, the documents sprawled out before us.

“He’s a strange man, your fiancé,” my dad said, looking up from rereading the prenuptial agreement.

“Strange? You said earlier that the terms were incredibly generous.”

“They are. You could divorce him in six months, if you chose, and he’d still be obligated to not only pay off your remaining college debt, but to give you five million dollars.”

“I’m not going to divorce him in six months. That’s ridiculous.”

“I know that, sweetie,” he said, squeezing my hand. Despite his reassurance, the creases of concern that remained on his usually smooth forehead bothered me. He noticed my expression and smiled. “What do I know about these things, really? Wealthy people operate very differently than we would, when it comes to marriage. Marriage is a legal contract, after all. I suppose it’s better, to get it all arranged beforehand instead of risking having to battle it out in the courts later?” His pale blue eyes sharpened on me. “He must care about you a great deal, to be willing to give so much.”

“Do you really think so, Dad?”

I waited anxiously for his response. It was a little long in coming for my comfort.

“Yes. I believe that he cares about you. I see the way he watches you across a room. I see the way you watch him. I happened to agree with what your mother said when she noticed the same thing. That’s some powerful stuff, Dick, she said.”