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“Yes, but I know he wants that chairmanship permanently. And he wants it to pass to his heirs. That useless cousin of yours would then inherit after him,” Swish warns me, and my worry spikes when I think about my cousin Jesse, who lives with his mother in Miami. We’ve never gotten along. I can’t imagine him leading our family.
“As we learned yesterday, your father’s adoption of your brothers doesn’t make them heirs as he’d hoped. So, the only way Thomas could ever take your place permanently is if you died. And you’re so young, he has no hope. But he’s going to do everything he can to find a way to undermine you. And he’ll have sixteen years to do it,” he says.
“What can I do to stop him?” I ask.
“Nothing. I think he’s going to ask me to resign as the trustee of the family foundation where all the money sits,” he says.
“But you won’t. Right?”
“No. And he can’t remove me. But son, I’m eighty-two. I’m not going to be here forever. And he’ll have complete discretion to pick the next trustee,” he says, and I feel a surge of worry.
Each word stings like they’re wrapped in shards of glass. My stomach dropped when they read the will yesterday. I didn’t expect to become chairman right away. I’m only fourteen. But to have no say—at all—over anything completely surprised me. What was I going to do for the next sixteen years?
“Okay, so what happens now?” I ask.
“Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about. Your father made plans right before he died.” His voice is grave, and he stops and watches me while his words sink in.
“What plans?”
“You’re going to live with your aunt Gigi. In Positano,” he says.
“Who?” I ask sharply, sure I hadn’t heard him correctly.
“Your father has an older sister, Georgiana, but everyone calls her Gigi,” he says again, and I sit back. A cold weight spreads in my core as I look at Swish with eyes that go from wide with shock to narrowed in suspicion.
“No, he doesn’t,” I insist.
“Yes, Hayes, he does,” he says softly. He watches me solemnly, and I realize, with real horror building in my chest, that he’s telling the truth. But … my father wouldn’t hide his sister. Would he?
“How come I’ve never even heard her name before?” I ask, the demand in my voice softened by the quaver in it. My entire body is shaking. My mind is whirling. I don’t understand.
“She was disinherited before you were born,” he says, and I blanch at the idea.
“Are you serious?” I ask rhetorically—the answer is obvious from the look on his face.
He just nods.
“But-why?” I stutter on my question because I can’t imagine that there’s an answer that would help me understand.
“She chose a man over her family, and that was that. Your grandfather wrote her out of the will, out of the family Bible, out of the family tree, and for him, she hasn’t existed in almost sixteen years,” he says.
“His own daughter?” I ask. My grandfather was not a kind or loving man, but he behaved like family was paramount to everything. And he liked control. Over everything. I can’t imagine him having a child out in the world whom he couldn’t rule over with his iron fist.
“It was her choice. Your father stayed in touch with her—secretly. The week before he died, he asked her to be your guardian,” he says.
“He did?” I ask dumbly. But I’ve stopped thinking. What else don’t I know about my family? About my father? Part of me wants to know. The other part hopes I never find out.
“I would have rather he’d let me be your guardian, but he insisted. He wants you to live with her. And she agreed. So, she’s coming to get you, Hayes.” His big body heaves with his sigh like he’s relieved to have said it.
“Coming from … where’d you say? Post what?” I ask. My head is spinning; I don’t even recognize my own voice.
“Positano,” he says with a weird accent.
“Where the hell is that?” I ask.
“Italy,” he says.
“What’s she doing there?”
