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“That’s been paid off, and the bar has actually been sold as of this morning. Rudy signed off on the sale and paperwork.”
Rudy? So he’d gone with another buyer? Even after he made a deal with Hannah? She was ready to burst with frustration.
“Who did Rudy sell it to?” Hannah asked slowly.
She could hear Becky’s frown from the other side of the line. “He sold it to you,” she said.
Hannah about swallowed her tongue. “What are you talking about?”
“The bar was sold, cash up front, and put in your name,” Becky said.
Hannah’s mouth hung open, and before she could ask more, her other line beeped.
“Hey, Becky, let me call you back.” She switched over to the other line and answered the number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”
“Hello. I’m looking for Hannah Hastings?” a man asked.
“This is she,” she replied.
“Miss Hastings, I’m Harvey Wolcott, Mr. Laythem’s attorney. I need to discuss some legal matters with you.”
She closed her eyes. This was the call she’d been waiting for. The one that ended any tie she had with Grant. And her heart sank.
“Okay,” she urged.
“Miss Hastings, you have been awarded an eighty percent share in Laythem Inc., as well as sole proprietorship of Mr. Grant Laythem the Third’s estate in its entirety.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?” she said around a strangled breath. Had the world gone mad today? “Grant Laythem left and . . .”
“And you’re his legal wife. He has bestowed his entire estate on you.”
She gripped her head and tried to wrap her hungover mind around what was going on.
So Grant hadn’t left her with nothing—he’d left her with everything.
But he’d still left . . .
“Miss Hastings?” Harvey asked from the other line.
“Yes, I’m here,” she said.
“I was hoping to set up a time I can get you some documents.”
“Sure. Are you calling from New York?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She thought of Harvey, of Grant, sitting around in a big high-rise in the middle of downtown Manhattan. At least, that’s what it looked like from the picture Cal had shown her last night of where Laythem Inc. was located.
“Do you mind if I call you back? I need to get a few details sorted out,” she said to Harvey.
“Of course. Thank you, Miss Hastings.”
She looked at her phone and hung up. Wishing Grant was in front of her so she could hug him—or scream at him.
Chapter Fourteen
Grant sat at the large rectangular table in the Laythem Inc. conference room. He sat back in his chair, his three-piece suit feeling a little constrictive. He glanced out at the view of Manhattan from the wraparound windows on the fiftieth floor.
