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He stepped into the room, where three men followed him. “These are my lawyers, Jack and Clifford.” He motioned a hand over them before pointing out the last man. “And this is my father, Henry.”
I straightened, taking in Ezra’s dad. Henry Nash was a head shorter than his son, probably not much taller than me, and maybe fifty pounds heavier with thinning salt-and-pepper hair. But he had Ezra’s angular jaw and blue-blue eyes.
“Dad, this is Hayden and Broderick Carmichael and Kaitlynn Judge.”
Henry had been nodding a greeting to my stepbrothers, only to pull back and send a sharp, untrusting glance to me when my name was mentioned, or rather, my surname was mentioned.
His eyes narrowed as if I were already his enemy number one.
It hurt on multiple levels, first because Ezra obviously hadn’t mentioned to his dad that he was seeing me, and second, because I hated how Lana had tainted the Judge name, making people automatically leery of it. And finally… Hell, I didn’t look that evil and untrusting, did I?
I glanced Ezra’s way, but he was busy taking in Mike and Richard with a frown. “And I don’t know these gentlemen.”
Richard introduced them before saying, “We’re here to represent Miss Judge.”
“Miss…?” And finally, finally, Ezra shot me a startled glance. He seemed so betrayed I felt the need to shrug and shake my head, letting him know I was still just as clueless about everything that was going on as he was.
He blew out a breath, shook his head, and reached for the chair directly across from me. “Let’s get started then. I’m eager to learn what’s going on.”
Once he was seated, with his dad beside him and the two lawyers flanking them, he interlaced his finger together on the conference table and turned his attention to Hayden. “I’m guessing this has everything to do with Lana being arrested just now. So, what’d she do to the company?” Cutting straight to the heart of the matter, he immediately started guessing. “Embezzlement? Bribery? Misappropriation?”
Hayden shook his head. “Murder.”
While everyone else in the room froze at that word, Brick exploded to life, turning on his brother and blurting, “What the fuck, Hayden? Our mother? Who the hell did she supposedly kill?”
“For starters: Dad,” Hayden murmured, his gaze haunted as he focused on Brick. Brick visibly jolted, only to start shaking his head, while Hayden continued talking. “Bridget and Jackson Myrtle.” Then his attention shifted to me, and it begged for forgiveness as he added, “And Arthur Judge.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I stared at Hayden, unable to react. Unable to process. While it felt as if a swarm of bees began stinging every inch of my flesh and my stomach plummeted into my knees, my gaze couldn’t seem to leave my oldest stepbrother. He looked so sure, so tormented by his claim. The man truly, honestly believed what he was saying.
But could I?
Next to me, Brick gushed out all the responses I couldn’t seem to summon. Letting out a harsh laugh, he flopped back noisily in his seat and ran both hands through his hair. “Jesus, I know we joke about that shit all the time, but fuck, bro. This isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not,” Hayden agreed, tearing his gaze from me to focus on Brick. “Not at all. But it’s true. I found proof. Irrefutable evidence.”
“How?” Ezra was the one to ask.
I looked his way, but again, he was too busy dissecting Hayden with a hard stare to notice me.
“It started a few weeks ago,” Hayden began. “From something Bruno said.”
Shaking his
head, Ezra squinted. “Explain.”
Hayden bowed his face once, obliging. “Bruno came into my office to collect the trash, chattering away about all sorts of things as usual, until out of the blue he said, ‘I thought that old lawyer of Arthur’s had passed away.’”
I shook my head, confused, wondering why Uncle Finley was being mentioned. “He did,” I answered. “He died not long after my dad’s funeral.”
Hayden lifted a finger. “See. That’s what I thought too. But Bruno seemed sure he’d heard Lana talking on the phone in her office with him because she referred to the person on the other end of the line as Fin Tin.”
I gasped. Fin Tin was the nickname my father had always affectionately called his lawyer, who, just like Bruno, had basically been like an uncle to me.
Fin Tin was not a common name.
“I never believed Arthur’s last will and testament,” Hayden went on, shaking his head, as he glanced my way. “You were his pride and joy. Compared to what he had, there was just no way he left you so little.”
