“So. What’s this about?” I ask. Ethan is a busy man. He didn’t ask me out just to eat. “I thought the entire process would take about three months?”
“It’s probably going to take longer. Nesovia recently passed a law to force probation when a woman reclaims her inheritance through marriage.”
I purse my lips. “Those damn politicians. They never do anything useful. When I get a hold of my money, I’m bankrolling whoever runs against them.”
“Amen.” Ethan grows serious. “But in the meantime, it gives your aunt an opportunity to file a petition and tie the process up in court for a while.”
“How much time are we talking here?” I pray it only adds a couple of months, but it’s the legal system, which churns slowly.
“Maybe a year?”
Ugh. No!“Even after I turn thirty?”
“Yes, because the process startedbeforeyou turned thirty.”
“Fuckers,” I mutter, thoroughly annoyed with the lawmakers of the damn country I had the misfortune to be born in.
“But Doris says she’ll sign an affidavit to give up the right to contest if you’ll sign a transfer agreement.”
Rage flares. “She’s not getting a penny out of me!”
“If she wanted money, I’d advise you against it. But that isn’t what she wants.”
“Oh?” I can feel my eyes narrowing. “Doris loves getting my money as much as spending it. Why would she give it up? What’s the catch?”
“She wants you to agree to transfer ownership rights to any and all items you’ve decided you don’t want to keep anymore.”
That’s even more confusing. “Like what? My clothes? Shoes?”
“Examples in the agreement include notes, scraps of paper, doodles, your old stationery items, although that’s not an exhaustive list.”
“I’m not giving them my old stationery for the rest of my life. I might have some private stuff written there.”
“It’s whatever youdon’twant. She wants to get this done as soon as possible.”
What’s Doris’s deal?This doesn’t make any sense. “Do you see any gotchas in the agreement?”
“Actually, I don’t. They’re literally asking to take your trash, in a sense.” He takes a shrimp shumai from the steamer.
I look at the Cantonese soy sauce fried noodles and swallow a sigh. Ethan hasn’t touched them yet. I get more fried rice instead. I need more carbs if I want to think clearly. “What do you think she’s trying to pull?”
“Unless you’re throwing away a treasure map, I don’t know. By the way, if you have one, you should give it to me, not them.”
I laugh. “No. I don’t have anything of that nature. Hmm.”
“In any case, you can take your time and decide on what to do.”
“Well, you’re my lawyer. What do you think?”
“I’m of two minds about it. If all they really want is your old, unwanted stuff, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to let them have it. In return for expediting the process to get your trust sooner, of course. But I also recognize they could be setting a trap, or…maybe they’re hoping to get something of value from your castoffs.” He shrugs.
“They know it’ll be nearly impossible to touch my money. I’m not just married—my husband is a Huxley. That might’ve made them change their tactics.” Or did Zoe have something to do with it? I hate it that a small part of me wonders if she should get some credit, all because of her cryptic remarks. But Zoe’s family is dangerous, and Doris, Vernon and Rupert don’t want to cross the Dunkels.
“Very possibly.”
I sigh. I loathe making decisions when I don’t have all the facts. “The smart thing to do might be to sign the agreement. But part of me doesn’t want to give them anything, even my trash, you know? They’ve taken so much already.” I look down wistfully at the so-far-untouched noodles. Will I ever be able to do something as mundane as eating out without worry, like everyone else?
Resentment, frustration and anger start to boil, and I expel a breath to hide the emotion. “To be honest, I’d prefer that they be out on the streets with nothing but the clothes on their backs.”
