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He stopped in front of the men’s lockers, turning to face me. “If you contest the will, you would put all your time, effort, and money into it, and you are already spreading yourself thin. You need to be focused.” A frown deepened the wrinkles around his cheeks. “What is so hard about moving on?”
I twisted my fingers together, ping-ponging my weight from foot to foot. “It’s not fair that she got half the company.”
Andras rolled his eyes. “It is just a cleaning company. Open another one.”
“It’s notjusta cleaning company. It’s Dad’s legacy. We made that name together. We chose the logo, the products, the services. We had plans, and they’re gone.” I tossed my hands up, heat creeping into my neck the more worked up I got. “And the keepsakes. She sold them all. I want them back.”
Dad always said—Memories are a second heart. After you’re gone, they beat inside the people you’ve left behind.
That woman sold Dad’s second heart.
I wanted it back.
“They are gone.” Andras shook his head. “The jewelry. The art. They could be in Siberia for all we know. Even if you were to track them down, you would never be able to afford them.”
He was right.
And still, I couldn’t let it go.
I wanted to fight Vera with everything I had left in me, even if it wasn’t much. Out of spite. Out of justice. Out of vengeance.
Out of pain.
Twenty-two years of abuse from the moment I’d landed on their steps as a newborn. Twenty-two years of fending off schemes to kick me out of the house.
If I let those twenty-two years go unanswered, would I still be a human or a doormat?
That’s my girl.Dad’s voice came to me like a sudden storm. I wantedto weep at the sound of it.Stand up for yourself. Even against those you love. If you find yourself alone, they never truly loved you back.
“It’s not his real will,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “That’s the main reason I want to contest it. She tainted his inheritance and robbed him of his last wishes.”
He clutched his head like he thought it would explode. “What are you talking about?”
“She drafted this thing herself.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know my dad. That is not his will. I know it in my heart. In mybones.”
The will read at his will reading referred to his art collection asmiscellaneous items. Items to be sold at auction with full profits handed over to Vera Ballantine.
The painting Dad swore he’d never sell, even if the President himself got on his hands and knees to beg.
The zany nose sculpture he’d insisted he’d start World War III over, since it reminded him of the one he’d passed down to me.
And the pendant he promised he’d give me at my wedding after walking me down the aisle.
I didn’t simply not believe the will. Irefusedto believe it, because if I did, it meant every promise Dad made me was a lie.
And my father wasnota liar.
“What does it matter?” Andras flung his arms in the air. “It’s done. It’s been almost two years. Focus on what you can change.”
“Icanchange this.” I balled my fists at my sides. “I don’t have to lie down and take it.”
“If you spend time with this Mr. Sun, lying down and taking it will become your main position,te bolond,” he snarled, unzipping his fencing suit.
Whoa.
