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But on her way out, she noticed a letter addressed to her. From the offices of William Lester Montgomery.
A dark, cold shiver settled all around her.
She knew the letter held bad news. It was such an old-fashioned, gothic way to deliver an omen. She realized she was being ridiculous. She opened the letter and read the contents.
Then she read it again because she was sure she had misunderstood everything.
It was a letter from her great-aunt, Marjorie Bradshaw, written in her own hand, days before she passed.
After her second reading, Rayne wiped the tears from her eyes. There was so much heartache in that one letter—so much sorrow and emptiness—and now it had passed on to her, it seemed.
Marjorie Bradshaw had fallen in love with three gentlemen when she was a young woman. They loved her back equally, but their union would never be welcomed by any of their families.
And so they parted ways, but they had never stopped loving each other. Her men had gone on to marry other women and raise families, answering to their own family obligations, while Marjorie had remained alone but happy to love them from afar.
Her heart had broken when she discovered the loves of her life had all been killed simultaneously when a building had collapsed. She had lived in deep sorrow for years until she discovered she was dying, and she wasn’t ready to leave the earth without leaving something of hers behind. In her quest to find her men’s family, she discovered Rayne Alice Bradshaw, her grandniece. With her money and power, she had also learned that her men had left behind three grandsons.
Those three grandsons were Beckett King, Aston Lane, and Keaton Reed.
Rayne struggled to get her breathing under control.
Her great-aunt had orchestrated their meeting. She had wanted to see if anything would happen between the people she and her men had shared some sort of DNA with. She had wanted their legacy to live on with the people they shared their genes with.
But that wasn’t all. Marjorie wanted it to be a test of time. A love of a lifetime that couldn’t be bought. And she had included in that letter her final will.
She had left a billion dollars each to Beckett Kind, Aston Lane, Keaton Reed, and Rayne Alice Bradshaw.
But there was a clause. The money would only go to the recipient if the recipient had no feelings of love for the other party involved.
Basically, if Beckett, Aston, or Keaton decided they didn’t love her, they would come into a billion dollars.
The kicker? In order to prove their love for her, Beckett, Aston, and Keaton had to be there with her at the allotted hour of 2 p.m. on this day at this address. If they are absent, it is clear they have chosen money over love.
She could barely see the time through the thick tears pooling in her eyes. It was already 2:35 p.m.
She couldn’t control the sob that finally broke her.
But when she heard a car outside, she ran to the front door and swung it open, only to find William Lester Montgomery standing there with an umbrella shielding off the rain.
She tried to wipe away her tears. She had no desire to deal with anyone, least of all with legal stuff.
She let him in.
"I’m sorry, Mr. Montgomery, but if there’s anything legal, please can it just wait?"
"Monty. You’re the only person I know brave enough to call me Monty," he said, smiling. Somehow, she found more tears to cry.
"Come here, sweet child." She didn’t need to be told twice. She curled herself into the older man’s embrace and sobbed some more.
"You know?" she asked through her tears.
"I’ve been sitting outside waiting for them to show up. I wanted you to have your happily ever after, after all."
"Do you know where they've gone?"
"I know that your ex-boss would have called them in and given them a copy of the letter and new will."
"They didn’t choose me."
