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“What am I looking at?”
“The families of Regalia.” Pride leeched into her voice. “Our history. Our legacy.”
She traced the name at the top of the tree—the one from which all lines spread out: Burkhardt.
“Years ago, a Burkhardt bought the land that everything sits on and founded Regalia,” she began. “There were some issues with the land’s indigenous owners. They tried to reclaim it, cited treaties, and caused problems for the new settlers. Ansel Burkhardt didn’t command an armed force at the time. He was a robber baron who favored negotiation that ended in bribes.
“When paying them off didn’t work, Ansel gave his money to Elmer Wilson. Elmer and his militia slaughtered the entire tribe.”
“Fucking hell,” I cried. “That’s the truth you needed to tell me? That Regalia has always been a breeding ground for the worst of humanity?”
Her calm expression didn’t flicker. “It’s not a story I’m proud of, Sinclair. It’s evidence of what some have done to get where they are.” Saylor traced a gold line down to the name directly below Burkhardt. “Elmer Wilson extracted a high price from Ansel in exchange for that atrocity. Two thousand dollars and a plot of land in Regalia that was his, no strings attached. Wilson Manor now sits on that plot.”
Plot? Their land rivaled fifty acres.
“The money Ansel gave him funded the first business that became Wilson Industries,” she explained. “They created an empire independent of the Burkhardts and it dominates every sector where we have no presence—transportation, mining, and construction. But when it comes to the industries the Burkhardts control—finance, real estate, healthcare, high-end retail, and not to mention, our senators and congressmen—they have failed at growing big enough to rival or even compete with us.
“They cannot beat us in business, and in Regalia where our name is woven in every blade of grass, they spread no further than the remains of a long-ago bloody deal. That’s why their name rises higher than everyone else, but it’ll never rise higher than us.”
I gazed at the scroll with new understanding. The Wilson name edged slightly higher than the four names below: Alvar, Starling, Montana, Langford.
Lines connected the Wilsons to the Alvars, Starlings, and Montanas. All lines connected the names to the Burkhardts. But originating from the name Langford was only a single line from them to Burkhardt. Though Langford was in the same row as Saylor’s other friends, her name stood apart—far in the corner.
“Why is Katie over there?” I asked.
“The Langfords are one of the rare families in Regalia that don’t owe the Burkhardts their existence. Her family wealth was built on the jewelry business and we’ve never had a hand in that. Plus, her family was the Calderons before they became the Langfords—originating in Spain. Her family came to the Americas before us, settled in New York, then years later rented the home they’re in now.
“The worst we could do is evict them from the property, but it wouldn’t put a dent in their fortune or their position since they still maintain ties in New York and overseas. That’s why the bitch walks around here like she’s untouchable,” Saylor said about one of her oldest friends. “Neither her business, status, future, or position relies on the Burkhardts or Regalia.”
I just nodded. A lot of things were making sense now. Why Katie didn’t hesitate to stick up for me or call Saylor on her shit. Why everyone around here talked about their “status” the same way they spoke about oxygen—vital to their survival.
“So this line that connects the Langfords to the Burkhardt is what? What do all of the lines mean?”
“The line is the land,” she explained. I didn’t have to search my memory, this was the longest, and only, civil conversation I’ve had with Saylor since she cornered me on the terrace. “It represents what ties her to us. Alliances, marriages, business deals, land deals, etcetera. All the ties between the families to the Burkhardts, and the ties the families have between each other.”
“But you said the Wilsons owe you nothing. Why are you two connected?”
Her smirk stood my hair on end. “Because we’re connected by the strongest tie of all, Sinclair. Secrets.
“From the innocent lives the first Wilson slaughtered to get his hands on some money and land, to the many dirty deeds Wilsons have committed up and down the family tree.” She sighed. “The trouble is the Burkhardts aren’t angels either. The Wilsons know things that can destroy us too. Daddy plans to make a bid for president. If those things came out, it’s political suicide. His career is over.”
I pictured the Wilson family as it was today. One angry, drunk father; an overbearing beauty queen mother; a stepson fighting for independence; and a playboy ex-fiancée. These were the four with the power to bring down one of the richest families in the country.
