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I see red. The shred of self-preservation that was holding back a rage that I know is reckless, and that I know I’ll pay for, dissolves. But I don’t care. If anyone has it coming, it’s this asshole. And those are the last coherent thought I have before I pull my fist back and use it to break his nose.
58
Beth
What You Deserve
“Mrs. Tremaine, you are officially, the richest woman in the state of Texas.”
“What?” Fiona and I gape at the lawyer and then each other. But her expression of awe quickly turns to scorn.
“No, he wouldn’t have,” she sputters and stands up in her chair.
“My father left me the bulk of his estate?”
“He left me with nothing?”
“Twenty million dollars and real estate worth double that is hardly nothing.”
“It’s not close to what I am owed,” she shrieks.
I push the papers away. “I don’t want it.”
“She’s kidding,” Phil interjects and smiles at the lawyer.
“No, I’m not.”
The attorney, a spry octogenarian who has worked for our family for decades, stands up. “If you’d like to refuse the bequest or challenge it, there will be paperwork. Otherwise, my work here is done.”
“You won’t get away with this,” Fiona hisses and runs out of the room after him.
“I can’t believe it. He hated me.” I say to Phil.
“No. It turns out are the only person who didn’t disappoint him.”
“Why? Because I took my licks like a good little dog?”
He grabs my hand and looks me in the eye. “No. Because you made him work really hard to land them on you. And, I don’t know what Fiona did to piss him off, but we know that his money was the most important thing to him. And he left it all to you.”
“I don’t want it.”
He sighs and stands. “I want to show you something.” I take his outstretched hand and let him lead me down the hall leading to my father’s private suite of offices.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He stops at the first door and with the most casual flick of his wrist, the door flings open. Duke, who has been distant since he came home from getting his nose reset is sitting in in a folding chair, looking like the consummate rich playboy. His tie is undone, his shirt is unbuttoned to reveal his neck and the swell of his muscled chest. His blonde hair is disheveled and his head angled backwards, his eyes closed.
Kneeling between his splayed thighs is my grandmother’s assistant, Bridgette.
Her head is moving around like she’s in one of the food eating contests where you have to keep your hands tied behind your back. And they’re both completely oblivious to their audience.
I was aghast when I heard Carter punched him, now I wonder how I managed to go all these years without doing the same. I bet it felt good. My stomach roils as I stand there shocked, unable to breathe as I watch them. I thought about Duke’s infidelity in much the same way I thought about zits - they were an unavoidable hazard that comes with having skin. Properly concealed, I could pretend I didn’t see it, and was sure that one day, he’d grow out of it.
But he’s becoming even more reckless and I watch them and see my future stretching out in front of me.
Dazedly, I reach for the wall switch and flip the lights off and back on again.
The sound of the chair scraping the floor when Duke surges to his feet mingles with his shout of outrage and Bridgette’s cry of pain when his knee makes contact with her jaw and sends her sprawling.
