Ugh. Why are you forcing me to smell that??

"Miss? Miss?"

You shake your head away from the horrible smelling salts. Opening your eyes you see a cute, sexy young man standing over you.

"Hey there," he says, putting an arm around you. You look into his eyes and think, 'yum'. "Are you okay? Should we take you to the hospital?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine." He helps you back to your chair. You thrill at his strong arms around you. After packing up the First-Aid kit, Tim gives you a wink which says 'call me', before heading out.

"That was Tim, my paralegal," says Mr. Blakely. "Just like you... well, not like you anymore, obviously."

"So tell me if I have this right," you say, cutting off Mr. Blakely. "You're telling me that if I am married, then in one year--"

"Minus two weeks."

"Yes, if I am married, then on the anniversary of Jack Hewitt's **** my husband will inherit 1.2 billion dollars?"

"That is an accurate summation of your situation, yes."

"So then, after that he can just dump me and he gets to keep it all? Or kill me? What if he kills me?"

"Well, if he divorces you, California is a common property state and you would split the money. If he kills you, well, I would say, just be careful about who you marry!"

"Still, sounds like a big opportunity for greedy assholes to make me miserable."

"Agreed!" Blakely laughs. "That's why we recommend that you do not tell any men about this arrangement until after you're married and after Hewitt's **** anniversary."

"What happens if I'm not married by the anniversary?"

"Then the entire amount goes to the Hewitt Charitable Foundation."

"Which is not horrible, actually," you point out.

"Definitely not," Mr. Blakely agrees. "But I can speak on this with some authority, Mr. Hewitt would have rather you and your husband have it for yourselves."

"Oh, okay," you say, absorbing this new information.

You spend the rest of the afternoon signing a bazillion forms.

It all starts with a name-change form where you sign your name as Jennifer and seal your fate... as a woman... forever.

Which is quite the moment, you realize. "I am Jennifer now," you think to yourself, looking at your new name on the form. "And I will be Jennifer for the rest of my life."

You take a deep breath and feel your breasts sway, your feet in the heels, the hem of the skirt encircling your thighs, the slipperiness of your lipstick, the smell of your perfume.

"What will you do now?" asks Mr. Blakely, once all of your signatures are complete (you have signed Jennifer so many times now, that it has become completely automatic!).

You finger the gold TROPHY WIFE letters hanging from your necklace.