Page 24 of Merciless

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Colton. You’re the last remaining Tems I am to meet.”

“I’m not a Tems.”

His probing gaze raised to mine, lips lifting into a smirk. “As you say.”

Thomas flipped the folder open, metaphorically turning the first page to my entire future.

He was patient with me, explaining things in detail and clarifying clauses that were all jumbled in legal terminology.

I guessed it was a strange scenario; a long-lost grandson randomly appearing from nowhere to see what he could claim after his grandmother’s death—someone he had met not long ago, and also a woman who remained well and truly living.

I felt awkward, hence why I didn’t tell anyone about the lawyer appointment or the nature behind it. When Eloise had dropped the news of her multi-million-dollar empire, I laughed, thinking it was a joke. Until her serious face soon sobered mine.

Despite her assurances, I remained sceptical, my trust issues rallying in full force. I didn’t know the woman. She could have been a scam artist, for all I knew. And that’s where my research came in.

When I left that diner, I became an undercover detective, scoping the net for information on the Tems. Unfortunately, I didn’t get far, my investigative skills amateur at best. But on the surface level, everything seemed to check out.

Sure, that type of money was transformative, but even more sinister was the thought of giving someone access to me who didn’t deserve it.

Which was the main reason behind setting up the meeting with Thomas. I needed answers from an external party, someone to validate or disapprove the outrageous claims—that’s exactly what they were. To be named as the sole beneficiary of a $40 million-dollar empire was outrageous.

Not according to Thomas, though, who didn’t so much as blink when running through the long list of assets, real estate and businesses.

“Mrs Tems has been thorough,” he said, leaning back in his sophisticated leather office chair. “So, if anyone tries to contest her will after her death, they’ll be in for a very difficult time. Honestly, it wouldn’t be worth the headache, effort or wasted resources.”

I gulped, completely overwhelmed. “Are there people who would want to? Contest the will, I mean.”

He shrugged, all nonchalant. “Hard to say. I’ve seen some pretty crazy stuff over the years. Money and power can bring out the worst in people. Grief, even more so.”

Don’t I know it.

He then asked me if I had any final questions, which I denied. My mind blanked out, overloaded at the prospect of Eloise telling the truth. She had, in fact, left everything to me. Every single fucking cent.

I tried to rein in my panic by sitting on my hands, concentrating on staying immobile. Don’t lose your shit… Not yet.

Just when I thought I’d succeeded in maintaining my composure, Thomas replaced the thick folder with a smaller one.

“And that brings us to the trust fund set up by your mother—”

What is he talking about?

Thomas sifted through the document. “From the records, you’ll gain full access to your account in four years’ time, at twenty-five years old, as the clause stipulates—”

Confusion and disbelief restricted my chest, causing my breathing to shallow. I was getting dizzy, the lack of oxygen distorting my thought process.

“Originally, your dad was adamant he didn’t want to touch the $2 million, so it seems you’ll receive the remainder—”

Wait. “Wait!” I shouted unintentionally. Thomas’ monologue came to an immediate halt, eyes widening in response to my outburst.

My tongue peeked out to wet my dry, tingling lips. “Rewind, please… Y-you mentioned my dad?”

“Yes. William Richards is the trustee of your account, which was set up by Bethany Richards, your mother…”

“Can I have a look?”

“Of course.” Thomas handed over the paperwork, the pages shaking in my jittery hands. Right there, in black and white, were both my parents’ signatures.

My brow furrowed. “My father didn’t set this up. Only my mother?”