Everything that happened here when I was a kid.
I never would’ve returned to this godforsaken place if Gramps hadn’t made me promise. Now, it looks like I’ll never get away.
It’s almost tempting to let the inheritance go, to walk away and figure out plan B for the rest of my life, but I’m done running.
I told myself it was past time to grow up.
“He couldn’t have been in his right mind,” I say, snapping my attention back to Miss Wilkes, daring her to argue. “What about Margot? Or Cleo? Is their inheritance this psycho?”
“Leonidas had his own keen and unique sense of fairness.” Of course, she’d say that. “Also, he was fully mentally and physically competent until the end. None of his physicians ever raised doubts.”
“He was dying, Miss Wilkes. He never even told us. How rational is that?”
A lump hardens in my throat.
“While unusual, it doesn’t represent grounds to challenge the fully informed decisions he made and wrote into his trust well before his illness.”
Fuck.
“So, wait. You’re telling me this is a totally reasonable decision made by a mentally healthy man?”
“With respect, nothing indicates otherwise. Not a shred of proof.”
I stride back to the desk and slam my hand on the copy of the will she presented me.
“You need more proof than this? Marriage, Miss Wilkes!”
She presses her lips together, the only gesture of disapproval I’ve ever seen. “I reiterate, Mr. Blackthorn, he was well within his rights. Pounding my desk won’t change that fact.”
Fuck me.
I rake a hand through my hair, trying to find the calm she’s mastered. In the Army, discipline was paramount, but everything feels different back in the civilian world.
“You’re right. I apologize,” I say shortly.
She nods. “Apology accepted.”
“But you have to admit—this is bonkers. This screams crazy and demented. If he wasn’t, there’s no damn way he would’ve made my inheritance contingent on marrying this girl.”
I can’t bring myself to say her name.
Not when it’s my brat sister’s tagalong from half a lifetime ago and I can’t process any of this being real.
“Frankly, I met with your grandfather regularly before he died. I can assure you, he was just as sharp as ever.” Miss Wilkes taps a few keys on her keyboard. “When he realized how little time he had left, he met with several people, and all of them would agree he was mentally sound.”
“Then what the hell was he thinking?” I demand. “Marrying fuckingHattie?”
Out of everyone Gramps could have chosen, Harriet Sage makes the least sense.
I lied when I said I didn’t know her.
I do.
Barely.
In another life, I did.
Our families still know each other, certainly, and she’s still Margot’s sidekick. But we haven’t interacted in years.
