I replied, “I’ll pass. I’ve already set up a blind date for tomorrow.”
“Wait. When did this happen?” Tara asked, shocked.
I waved my new phone at her and replied, “Just now.”
The first thing I did after getting my new phone was arrange a blind date. After all, now that I was done being a doormat, I needed to focus on my actual priorities. My top priority was simple: secure a good match, have a child, and ensure the Iverson family line continued.
…
The next day, I got all dolled up and headed to Blair’s college. When I informed them that I was withdrawing my financial support and requested that my contact information be removed from the guardian section of her records, the dean looked shocked.
Everyone knew about Blair’s difficult family situation and how my support had made her education possible. After all, I even covered her living expenses. My withdrawal of support would be devastating for her.
I showed the dean photos of Blair at the club. I explained, “It seems Blair doesn’t need my support anymore. Money doesn’t grow on trees, and since she’s clearly doing well financially now, I’ll stop my sponsorship.”
Since it was an Iverson property, it was clearly an upscale establishment, and the dean’s expression darkened at the sight. Blair was only 19 years old and in her critical freshman year, yet she was frequenting such places. It finally made sense why her grades had been dropping dramatically.
A single night at that club could cost thousands of dollars, yet Blair had recently been competing for financial aid scholarships meant for underprivileged students. The dean immediately decided this opportunity should go to a more deserving student.
After leaving the school, I headed to the coffee shop where I was meeting my blind date. My date was tall with broad shoulders, a lean build, and legs that went on forever—exactly my type. However, I froze when I saw his face.
I instinctively blurted out, “Mr. Powell.”
Nathaniel Powell was Shawn’s uncle. Since our families were close, I had met Nathaniel at several family gatherings when I was with Shawn. Nathaniel was Shawn’s grandfather’s adopted son, and I had had dinner with him before when I was still with Shawn.
Nathaniel’s sharp eyes scanned me from head to toe, and his expression was unreadable. Just as I was nervously planning my escape, he spoke in a deep, melodious voice.
He asked, “Did you break up with Shawn?”
When I nodded, he pressed, “A clean break?”
I nodded again, feeling like I was back in high school being interrogated by a strict teacher.
After a brief pause, Nathaniel said, “I’ve read your profile. I meet all your criteria.”
“W-What?” I stammered.
Nathaniel stood up and said, “Let’s go.”
“W-Where?” I asked, bewildered.
“To register our marriage. You meet my requirements, too,” he replied matter-of-factly as he loosened his tie.
I was completely floored. How could I marry Shawn’s uncle? That sounded like the plot of some ridiculous drama where someone married their middle school teacher.
I carefully tried to find an excuse, saying, “Maybe we’re not such a good match…”
Nathaniel’s cold gaze lingered on me, pinning me in place.
Panicking, I closed my eyes and blurted, “I-I just want a good genetic match to have a child. That’s all I care about, really.”
Silence followed, heavy and awkward.
Finally, Nathaniel spoke, his tone thoughtful yet serious as he replied, “If that’s your priority, then rest assured. I get regular checkups, and I’m in excellent health. You won’t be disappointed.”
I stared at him, speechless.
“Or, if you prefer, you can give it a test run first,” he added with a smirk.
