“Additionally, I leave to Skye my compass, may she always know true north, and to Zara, I leave my wedding ring, may she love as wholly and steadfastly as I loved her mother.”
Another pause, more painful than the last.
“Go on.” That came from Zara’s husband.
“To each of my daughters,” Mr. Ortega read slowly, “beyond that already stated, I leave a one-time inheritance of fifty thousand dollars.”
Fifty thousand dollars? I’d no sooner thought those words than Zara’s husband echoed them out loud, irate. Tobias Hawthorne left his daughters less than he left his security detail.
Suddenly, Skye’s reference to Grayson as the heir apparent took on a whole new meaning.
“You did this.” Zara turned toward Skye. She didn’t raise her voice, but it was deadly all the same.
“Me?” Skye said, indignant.
“Daddy was never the same after Toby died,” Zara continued.
“Disappeared,” Skye corrected.
“God, listen to you!” Zara lost her hold on her tone. “You got in his head, didn’t you, Skye? Batted your eyelashes and convinced him to bypass us and leave everything to your—”
“Sons.” Skye’s voice was crisp. “The word you’re looking for is sons.”
“The word she’s looking for is bastards.” Nash Hawthorne had the thickest Texas accent of anyone in the room. “Not like we haven’t heard it before.”
“If I’d had a son…” Zara’s voice caught.
“But you didn’t.” Skye let that sink in. “Did you, Zara?”
“Enough.” Zara’s husband stepped in. “We will sort this out.”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing to be sorted.” Mr. Ortega reentered the fray. “You will find the will is ironclad, with significant disincentives to any who might be tempted to challenge it.”
I translated that to mean, roughly, shut up and sit down.
“Now, if I may continue…” Mr. Ortega looked back down at the will in his hands. “To my grandsons, Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, and Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, I leave…”
“Everything,” Zara muttered bitterly.
Mr. Ortega spoke over her. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece, payable on their twenty-fifth birthdays, until such time to be managed by Alisa Ortega, trustee.”
“What?” Alisa sounded shocked. “I mean… what?”
“The hell,” Nash told her pleasantly. “The phrase you’re looking for, darlin’, is what the hell?”
Tobias Hawthorne hadn’t left everything to his grandsons. Given the scope of his fortune, he’d left them a pittance.
“What is going on here?” Grayson asked, each word deadly and precise.
Tobias Hawthorne didn’t leave everything to his grandsons. He didn’t leave everything to his daughters. My brain ground to a halt right there. My ears rang.
“Please, everyone,” Mr. Ortega held up a hand. “Allow me to finish.”
Forty-six point two billion dollars, I thought, my heart attacking my rib cage and my mouth sandpaper-dry. Tobias Hawthorne was worth forty-six point two billion dollars, and he left his grandsons a million dollars, combined. A hundred thousand total to his daughters. Another half million to his servants, an annuity for Nan…
The math in this equation did not add up. It couldn’t add up.
One by one, the other occupants of the room turned to stare at me.
“The remainder of my estate,” Mr. Ortega read, “including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs.”
CHAPTER 10
This is not happening.
This cannot be happening.
I’m dreaming.
I’m delusional.
“He left everything to her?” Skye’s voice was shrill enough to break through my stupor. “Why?” Gone was the woman who’d mused about my astrological sign and regaled me with tales of her sons and lovers. This Skye looked like she could kill someone. Literally.
“Who the hell is she?” Zara’s voice was knife-edged and clear as a bell.
“There must be some mistake.” Grayson spoke like a person used to dealing with mistakes. Bribe, threaten, buy out, I thought. What would the “heir apparent” do to me? This is not happening. I felt that with every beat of my heart, every breath in, every breath out. This cannot be happening.
“He’s right.” My words came out in a whisper, lost to voices being raised all around me. I tried again, louder. “Grayson’s right.” Heads started turning in my direction. “There must be some mistake.” My voice was hoarse. I felt like I’d just jumped out of a plane. Like I was skydiving and waiting for my chute to open.
This is not real. It can’t be.
“Avery.” Libby nudged me in the ribs, clearly telegraphing that I should shut up and stop talking about mistakes.
But there was no way. There had to have been some kind of mix-up. A man I’d never met hadn’t just left me a multi-billion-dollar fortune. Things like that didn’t happen, period.
“You see?” Skye latched on to what I’d said. “Even Ava agrees this is ridiculous.”
This time, I was pretty sure she’d gotten my name wrong on purpose. The remainder of my estate, including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs. Skye Hawthorne knew my name now.
They all did.
“I assure you, there is no mistake.” Mr. Ortega met my gaze, then turned his attention to the others. “And I assure the rest of you, Tobias Hawthorne’s last will and testament is utterly unbreakable. Since the majority of the remaining details concern only Avery, we’ll cease with the dramatics. But let me make one thing very clear: Per the terms of the will, any heir who challenges Avery’s inheritance will forfeit their share of the estate entirely.”
Avery’s inheritance. I felt dizzy, almost nauseous. It was like someone had snapped their fingers and rewritten the laws of physics, like the coefficient of gravity had changed, and my body was ill-suited to coping. The world was spinning off its axis.
“No will is that ironclad,” Zara’s husband said, his voice acidic. “Not when there’s this kind of money at stake.”
“Spoken,” Nash Hawthorne interjected, “like someone who didn’t really know the old man.”
“Traps upon traps,” Jameson murmured. “And riddles upon riddles.” I could feel his dark green eyes on mine.
“I think you should leave,” Grayson told me curtly. Not a request. An order.
“Technically…” Alisa Ortega sounded like she’d just swallowed arsenic. “It’s her house.”
Clearly, she really hadn’t known what was in the will. She’d been kept in the dark, just like the family. How could Tobias Hawthorne blindside them like this? What kind of person does that to their own flesh and blood?
“I don’t understand,” I said out loud, dizzy and numb, because none of this made any kind of sense.