“Daddy was never the same after Toby died,” Zara continued.
“Disappeared,” Skye corrected.
“God, listen to you!” Zara lost her hold on her tone. “You got in his head, didn’t you, Skye? Batted your eyelashes and convinced him to bypass us and leave everything to your—”
“Sons.”Skye’s voice was crisp. “The word you’re looking for issons.”
“The word she’s looking for isbastards.” Nash Hawthorne had the thickest Texas accent of anyone in the room. “Not like we haven’t heard it before.”
“If I’d had a son…” Zara’s voice caught.
“But you didn’t.” Skye let that sink in. “Did you, Zara?”
“Enough.”Zara’s husband stepped in. “We will sort this out.”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing to be sorted.” Mr. Ortega reentered the fray. “You will find the will is ironclad, with significant disincentives to any who might be tempted to challenge it.”
I translated that to mean, roughly,shut up and sit down.
“Now, if I may continue…” Mr. Ortega looked back down at the will in his hands. “To my grandsons, Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, and Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, I leave…”
“Everything,” Zara muttered bitterly.
Mr. Ortega spoke over her. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece, payable on their twenty-fifth birthdays, until such time to be managed by Alisa Ortega, trustee.”
“What?” Alisa sounded shocked. “I mean…what?”
“The hell,” Nash told her pleasantly. “The phrase you’re looking for, darlin’, iswhat the hell?”
Tobias Hawthorne hadn’t left everything to his grandsons. Given the scope of his fortune, he’d left them a pittance.
“What is going on here?” Grayson asked, each word deadly and precise.
Tobias Hawthorne didn’t leave everything to his grandsons. He didn’t leave everything to his daughters.My brain ground to a halt right there. My ears rang.
“Please, everyone,” Mr. Ortega held up a hand. “Allow me to finish.”
Forty-six point two billion dollars, I thought, my heart attacking my rib cage and my mouth sandpaper-dry.Tobias Hawthorne was worth forty-six point two billion dollars, and he left his grandsons a million dollars, combined. A hundred thousand total to his daughters. Another half million to his servants, an annuity for Nan…
The math in this equation did not add up. Itcouldn’tadd up.
One by one, the other occupants of the room turned to stare at me.
“The remainder of my estate,” Mr. Ortega read, “including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs.”
CHAPTER 10
This is not happening.
This cannot be happening.
I’m dreaming.
I’m delusional.
“He left everything toher?” Skye’s voice was shrill enough to break through my stupor. “Why?” Gone was the woman who’d mused about my astrological sign and regaled me with tales of her sons and lovers. This Skye looked like she could kill someone. Literally.
“Who the hell is she?” Zara’s voice was knife-edged and clear as a bell.
