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It’s a beautiful painting.
I know nothing about art, but it must be beautiful to be hanging here, right?
Alex used to talk to me about art sometimes, but I never really understood much of what he was saying. Composition and… something. He used to kind of get lost in it when he was talking about it, which was lovely to watch, but I always felt separated from it. More like he wanted me to watch him enjoying the art rather than him trying to make me understand how to enjoy it with him. It was always a little like that for us.
But now seeing him here, with Kingsley… It’s like a collision of my worlds that I never ever envisioned or wanted.
Kingsley.
Kingsley Baxter. Hearing someone else say his name out loud makes it so much more real.
The man I practically threw myself at and who had so kindly, so beautifully, rejected me.
And who I’d hoped to never, ever see again.
“So, um, now that we’re all here, I guess we can get started,” Jarvis says, following Alex around to the side of his desk.
Kingsley waits until I sink into the chair and then sits down into the seat next to mine, without saying a word. Jarvis waits until Alex settles before handing out some folders, gesturing for Kingsley to pass one on to me.
He holds it out to me, and I take it without making eye contact.
I can’t.
I don’t even know what’s going on, let alone how I feel about it. In my haze of seeing him here, I didn’t even really hear what Alex said when he introduced him. Something about being my trustee, whatever that means.
“So, Kingsley, I realize that you’ve just had this sprung on you. But, as it points out in the letter and as Alex has just introduced you, Luna is Ernest’s biological daughter.” Jarvis gives me what I assume is meant to be a comforting smile, but it just scares me. “Now, Luna, before your father passed, he created a trust for you. And that trust includes, among other things, a substantial stock portfolio, a large cash account, and shares in The Hamilton Group.”
What?
Kingsley, who had been flipping the pages of the folder, stops moving but doesn’t say anything.
Everything is just washing over me, nothing quite penetrating my brain.
When Alex told me to come see him today, I thought he was going to tell me my father had left me a few things, maybe even some money—he’d always promised me that. But Ernest had never mentioned anything to do with the company. Our tumultuous relationship had existed outside of the concept of money. It had been the only way my mother had allowed him to have a part in my life, and I’d always felt the same way. I knew Ernest was rich. I just had never cared about having a single cent of it.
Alex breaks the silence first. “And how many shares did he leave Luna, Jarvis?” he prompts, his voice hard, cold.
Whatever it is, it’s making them both awkward with tension.
Jarvis clears his throat and reads off a sheet of paper, as if he doesn’t know exactly what it says. “Luna, your father left you 50% of his stake in The Hamilton Group.”
Kingsley lets out a shocked exhale, the first sound he’s made since I stepped into the room.
“As of today, you, your trust, controls 26% of Hamilton Industries,” Jarvis finishes.
I can’t breathe. “Wait, I… I don’t…”
Alex leans forward, his face as white as a sheet. “What that means, Luna, is that based on today’s share price, your stake in Hamilton is worth £160 million.”
My heart actually stops in my chest.
Did he sayone hundred sixty million pounds?
I don’t know what that amount of money means. I don’t know what one million means. Hell, I don’t even know what it’s like to have £160 in my account most of the time. I’ve been scraping by the last few weeks here in London doing odd jobs that come through the hostel service for travelers.
This can’t be right.
“I… I don’t understand. Alex…”
