“Mr Vanderbury. Regarding the will, Mam. It’s being negotiated.”
“Jesus.” I sigh and let my legs fall out of the car, dropping them until these heels touch the ground again. “Why wasn’t I told of this?”
He doesn’t say anything else, just waves his hand as if trying to show me the way.
I’m ushered out towards the street leading to Malachi’s building. I stop and look at the evening suits making their way home from work, readying myself for some kind of fight. I knew this was coming, but I am not giving away this fortune to just anyone. It was Malachi’s, and therefore I’ll do as he wanted. That means it stays with me, it meanshestays with me.
The bronze little girl standing proud draws me over to her. Hands on her hips, chin tipped up. It’s a shame she’s still not in front of the charging bull like she was originally. I liked her there, liked the fierce achievement she levelled at anything coming for her. Guess I’ll use some of that strength now, stand my ground, again, and fight for what he wanted.
“Mam, please.”
I sigh and follow, unsure what’s coming for me. The pavement turns into a foyer, and the foyer turns into an elevator. Floors pass by, and my stomach starts bottoming out with every next level we travel. I know why. It’s the fear in me – the same fear that makes me question all this around me now. He might have made the choice for me to have his fortune, but I could lose this fight. What am I in reality compared to family? Nothing and no one.
The eventual sight of a boardroom full of suits comes into view. I stand outside the elevator doors, eyes scanning the boardroom in front of me. It’s just men and their suits and noise. Reggie’s there. They’re all arguing, files and papers being shoved in each other’s faces. I straighten my shoulders at the look of it, shrugging off whatever fear I’m drowning in.
“Fuck,” mutters from my lips. I can’t help it. All damn day dealing with business stuff and now this lot to contend with? I’m about done. Not yet, though.
I go in, hitching my bag full of documents onto my shoulder, and wait for any of them to notice me. They don’t. The arguing goes on like a bunch of teenage boys, and the noise just gets louder and louder. So I sit. Waiting. Not like I’ve got anything else planned for the night, is it? Not like some hero is coming to save my ass from the problem he put on me in the first place either. Guess I deserve that, though.
My eyes close, thoughts rallying back to his fierce eyes and his whole damn aura of authority. They always do when I’m at my weakest. Always do anyway, but now, in this situation, they make me smile quietly, knowing he’s with me even if he’s not. He’d laugh at these people around him now. He’d be bored with the mundane drone, and their attempt at bartering anything from him. He’d see it as a game, a folly. Nothing more. Not even worth his time really. That’s why I have to do this – why I am doing it just like he would. I do it for him. I give my time, my energy, my life of freedom and my every goddamn minute for him. This wealth will do something good until there’s nothing left or I’m dead. I owe it. I promised it.
A hush suddenly descends. I open my eyes slowly, licking my lips to prepare a speech I barely have. Shock hits me square in the guts. He’s there at the far end of the table, fully suited in dark blue, freshly shaven and alive. I swallow, unsure if this is real or not, as he unbuttons his jacket and keeps his stare fixed on me. He’s just sitting there casually like the last Christ knows how long hasn’t been going on. No smile on his face. No sense of pleasure to see me. Just him and those eyes that haunted my every minute in his death. He’s not dead, though. He’s here.
“Hello Alice.”
My mouth wants to drop open in disbelief. Instead it stays closed and I scan everything about him. He looks healthier than I’ve ever seen him. No dark circles under his eyes. No sense of being drawn or fatigued. In fact, he looks five years younger than he used to. I’d like to say it was as appealing as it was before, but something seems lost in the imagery, as if he misplaced part of himself to create a new version. It’s not right, and how the hell is he here?
There’s only the smallest twitch to his lips, as I search my mind for the answers I missed. It doesn’t make any sense. He was dead. All this in my hands is because he was dead, isn’t it? And yet he’s here, amused with me or this situation we’re in. I should be furious. Or leaping across this table to get to him to test how real this is. I might even be fucking dreaming given this man and the life I’ve been part of lately. Either way, I don’t really care a shit for anything as long as he’s smiling at me, because the last time I saw him, smiling was the last thing on his mind.
He lowers his gaze until he’s looking at my mid-section. I can’t help my finger running small circles over my ribs, letting him know that I remember too, that I can still feel him too.
He looks back up at me, a wry smile broadening on his face. “Do we need these men in here, Alice?”
“I don’t know. What are they here for?”
He looks at one of the guys to his right, signalling that he wants some documents. They get pushed to him, and he opens them one by one and starts signing things. Reggie also sends some red files his way in the next breath. “They’re here to negotiate you giving me everything back.” He sweeps his hand towards the right side of the room and the men in it. “Paul Knight and his team are working on your behalf.”
“I thought Reggie was my lawyer.” I switch my gaze over to Reggie, watching as he smiles and crinkles his old eyes.
“No, Reggie’s my lawyer. He does as I say.” In other words, he lied to me that day. He led me to believe things that weren’t real. Or he displaced the truth at the very least. At Malachi’s request.
I look back at him, trying to work out what the hell has been going on. “You can’t negotiate anything unless I’m agreeing to it.”
“You are agreeing.”
“I am?”
He continues signing documents. “Yes.”
“Not sure I am.” He stops signing the document, looks up at me sharply. “I don’t like liars.”
“No one lied, Miss Contreas,” Reggie says.
My head whips back to glare at him. “You told me he was dead.”
“No. That was your assumption of the situation. I didn’t correct it. Incapacitated and deceased are the same thing as far as my client’s will is concerned. He wrote it that way.”
“Incapacitated?”
