The Runaway Heiress by Meg Tilly

Author:Meg Tilly [Tilly, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780593201084
Google: MGg1EAAAQBAJ
Amazon: 0593201086
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2021-07-26T23:00:00+00:00

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“Would you like a receipt?” the Clark County clerk asked.

Sarah stared at the copy of her marriage license in dismay. “Excuse me. This is the wrong one. It’s the marriage license that was signed at the chapel. What I need is a copy of the license that was issued at city hall.”

The balding clerk’s mouth tightened. “This is a copy of the marriage license issued by city hall.”

“But my signature is on it.”

“Yes.” The clerk was looking at her as if he suspected Sarah was missing a marble or two.

The man’s listening skills could use a little polishing. “This isn’t”—Sarah spoke slowly and clearly so there could be no mistaking her request—“what I needed. You gave me the one from the chapel. I need a copy of the license that was issued at city hall.”

“Again, ma’am. This is the license from city hall. You then took said license to the chapel, got married, and signed the license. This is your marriage license.”

“My understanding is in order to get legally married, we both had to be present at city hall to get the license. Had to fill out a form. Show ID. Yes?”

The clerk crossed his arms and huffed out a breath, glancing at the ceiling as if his fraying fragments of patience could be found up there. He must have found the reset button, because when he looked at her again, his face was placid once more. “That is correct. And your point is?”

Sarah exhaled slowly, forced herself to walk the intensity back a few notches, to think clearly. “My point is I didn’t apply for a wedding license. Somebody else must have been acting in my stead. Which I believe would render my marriage invalid.” Her mind was flipping through information. She was grateful for Mick’s steady presence behind her. “However, in order to pursue this avenue further, I came here to get documentation, to get proof. The man who is/or is not my husband is a violent, abusive man. I live every day”—she had to swallow hard, then exhale slowly—“scared for my safety. I intend to sort this mess out.” It was difficult to keep the shakes from taking over. “I know for certain I didn’t go to city hall. We were in Vegas for one night. I was at the spa until after city hall had closed. Yes. My signature is on the marriage license, but I have no idea how it got here. No memory of agreeing to get married, or the ceremony.” Sarah’s heart was pounding. She could feel the blood rushing in her ears, but she spoke calmly, was determined not to plead to this officious bureaucrat. You have every right to be here. To ask for what you need. “I need your help. I want to find proof of whether I am actually married or not. I need a copy of the original application.”

To Sarah’s surprise, the clerk’s face had softened, his brow furrowed in consternation. “Oh dear.” He wrung his hands.

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