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“Would you like one room key or two, sir?” The clerk’s voice made me look up.
“Zero,” I said, stepping back. “I won’t be staying here.” I tucked the newspaper into my pocket and rushed to the exit doors.
I needed to fucking breathe.
I paced the sidewalk as my mind raced with questions. I knew there had to be some type of explanation for this shit, some grand reason why she would do this to me.
She didn’t even think to tell me …
Needing to work off the steam, I decided not to hail a cab. I walked to the Kensington Estate, up the private and secret path Kate had shown me long ago.
I tried to think of the perfect words to say, but the only sentence that settled on my lips was, “Why the fuck are you marrying him?” Well, that and “Please tell me this is some type of joke.”
“Sir?” A white suited security guard approached me. “Sir, are you on the guest list for this wedding?”
“I should’ve been.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave if you don’t have a name on the list, sir.” He pointed to the path. “Otherwise, I’ll have to call the cops.”
“I’m an old friend of Bernie’s,” I said, remembering her old security guard’s name. “You know, the guard tower manager. He said he would let me into this, to see how the other side lives.”
“Ah, that sounds like him.” He smiled and pulled a red card out of his pocket, handing it to me. “He should’ve given you one of these. Guest entry passes for the buildings and the reception. When you see him around here, tell him he’s slipping in his old age.”
“Will do.” I took the card and headed inside the main hall, stopping as I caught sight of the all-white ballroom. I moved in between the white clothed tables that were set with massive ice centerpieces, all ridiculous and completely over the top.
I counted the number of chairs and tables.
Eight hundred and ten.
I walked over to the cake and picked up one of the sliced pieces, carrying it around the gallery where pictures of Kate and Grant were hanging high in the hallway. I bit a piece of the cake and immediately spit it out.
It was dry as hell. Just like this wedding.
As I was approaching the garden, Kate and Grant stepped into the courtyard?a bevy of photographers and guests right behind them.
I stood still as they took their places in front of the water fountain, as Kate pressed her lips against Grant’s. The photographers’ cameras shuttered amidst the small crowd’s applause, and I waited to gauge Kate’s reaction.
When Grant finally pulled away from her lips, I didn’t see a hint of regret or sorrow. Only happiness.
She smiled her perfect set of pearly whites, and gave Grant a kiss on his cheek.
My heart finally collapsed in my chest. I was too stubborn to cry, but I felt tears threatening to form, if I didn’t walk away.
I took one last look at her—eyeing the gaudy-ass diamond ring on her finger, and forced myself to turn around.
She was always bound to marry someone wealthy and established…
I needed to get the hell out of here, and I knew, now more than ever, that I was never coming back. With my heart reeling, I vowed to get over her faster than she’d gotten over me.
But before I left, there was something I needed to do.
It was the one thing I’d always sworn against, something my pride had prevented me from doing since I was sixteen years old.
I hailed a cab and headed straight for the bank. The second it opened, I took a seat at the first teller’s chair.
“Um. May I help you with something, sir?” A woman in glasses and a pink sweater tilted her head to the side. “I personally know all of our members, and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you before.”
“I’m here to claim my inheritance.”
She gave a me a blank stare. “Sir, I’m not sure what type of game you’re trying to play, but I’m not authorized to sign off on that type of thing without significant proof. Typically, people who have unclaimed inheritances bring in an heirloom and documents, and no, I won’t tell you who has unclaimed inheritances. That’s fraud.”
I felt my blood boiling as she subtly signaled for security.
She gave me a fake smile, one I’d seen Kate use on other people several times before. “Are you sure you’re at the right bank?”
“Yes, I’m at the right fucking bank.” I rolled my eyes. “This is the one my late father once owned.”
Her eyes went wide. “You’re the son of Sean Holmes?”
“The illegitimate one, but his son all the same.” I took out the copy of his signed will that I carried in my wallet, and unsecured the watch on my wrist—handing it over to her, per his ill-timed instructions. I also handed over a copy of my legal name change to James A. Garrett. A change I’d made the moment I turned eighteen and cut all ties to The Holmes Estate.
