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I fucking hate it.
I hate the games and the expectations. I simply want to break free of it all. To go back to Amsterdam and lead a simple life where I’m no longer Émile Cromwell.
“And for Jean’s considerable finances, the amount will be distributed equally between his male grandchildren. Clifford Cromwell, Neil Cromwell, Émile Cromwell …”
The voice is drowned out by the ringing in my ears.
Hisgrandchildren?
The room stirs with surprise. My dad bristles, trying to figure out what’s going on. The will is usually straightforward, distributed predictably between family members in the exact way every other one has been before it.
That moneyshouldhave gone to Pa’s sons and sons-in-law, with a much smaller portion coming to me and my cousins.
He skipped a whole generation.
Holy shit,allthat money.
My mind races with the thought of it. The things I can do. The way I can benefit people.
I’m getting so ahead of myself that I almost miss what the executor is saying, but I catch the end. And it crashes all my fantasies at once.
“The above listed heirs will receive their inheritance after marriage.”
The memorial isevery bit as ridiculous as I was expecting. To get myself through times with irritating extended family, I like to play a game. To see how far I can take my stories before someone catches on to me.
“Is your sister okay?” my aunt asks in her syrupy sweet voice. “Because I remember when Britney Spears shaved her head and—”
“She’s fine. Simple matter of hair lice but it’s rectified now.”
My aunt’s face twists like she’s sucked on a lemon. Unlike Mom, she doesn’t keep everything masked behind indifference.
“Are you sure there are none left?” She absentmindedly scratches behind her ear. “I was just talking with her and no one told me.”
I shrug. “I hear they’re notoriously hard to be rid of, so it’s possible she’s missed one or two.”
With a strangled sound, my aunt hurries away, and I walk over to where Elle is eating a slice of cake.
“There is every possibility no one will want to come near you tonight,” I tell her.
“I could be so lucky.”
I grin and take the seat next to her. “I may have told Sheryl you shaved off your hair because of head lice.”
“Ohh, good one.” She takes another bite and talks around it. “I told Rupert it’s because I was tired of men coming in it.”
I almost choke on air. “You did what?”
“Well …” She mimes jerking someone off. “I morealludedto it. It’s not like I’d say the actual words, he probably would have had a heart attack. How crass do you think I am?”
I smirk and gently wrap my hand around hers and lower it back to the table. “That’s enough imaginary hand jobs for today.”
“I figured it was cum or gum so I went with the option most likely to get me out of the conversation.”
“And yet we’re all clueless why you’re the black sheep of the family.” She’s at least changed into an “acceptable” dress. “Has Dad seen you again?”
“Yep. I’ve been keeping an entire room between us.”
My conscience twinges at me. “Sorry I didn’t say something.”
