She puts her hands on her hips, feigning outrage while struggling to remain calm. I’m glad I can get a rise out of her. It means my words haven’t fallen on deaf ears.
“What are you going to do about it?” she asks. “Terrence and Katrina are having their wedding here. We’re changing the ballroom to match the wedding’s aesthetic. Your father agreed to everything. There’s nothing you can do about it!”
“You’re trying to nibble away more and more of what’s ours: a ballroom here, a refurbishing there, a shift in property ownership somewhere else. I know about your chat with the family lawyer, Sheila. You’re getting ready to secure your son’s legacy while advocating that Terrence be added to the will. That’s what this whole Thornwood wedding is about. You’re tugging at the old man’s heart strings.”
Sheila scoffs. “Terrence is his son. He should be in the will.”
“Terrence Madison isnotmy father’s son. He never will be.”
“Hey, Dad could adopt me and give me his name, if he wanted. But you and the twins keep getting in the way of that,” Terrence argues with a deep frown on his face.
“You’re goddamn right we do,” I snap. “All you’re good at is spending your monthly allowance, instead of working for a living like a man. Sheila keeps saying you dodged a bullet when you dumped Willow, but Willow is the one who dodged the bullet here. You’re a fucking parasite.”
I point a finger at Sheila before continuing. “Keep your son on a leash. I’m not going to say it again. And kiss that will goodbye. You’ll probably get something when the time comes because Dad’s an honorable man. He won’t leave you or Terrence out on the streets, but you’re not getting a single extra penny from his fortune.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not for you to decide,” Sheila calmly replies. “Mr. Bennington has already agreed to talk to your father about it, especially after the last surgery.”
“You had no business talking to the family lawyer without me or my brothers present,” I remind her.
The ballroom door opens, and my father walks in. I haven’t seen him since he returned from the recovery center. He looked rather feeble and pale then, but now, I see a smidge of color in his cheeks. His white beard is neatly trimmed, and he’s gained a pound or two, judging by how he fills out his dark green sweater.
“What’s with all the ruckus?” he grumbles.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, frustrated that we have to do this now. I’d hoped to catch him alone later because he can rarely be reasoned with when Sheila is around.The woman has a way of getting into his head and twisting his mind. She’s been doing it for years, every time to the detriment of our family.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, giving him a cool smile. “Glad to see you up and about.”
“You three were fighting again, weren’t you?”
Sheila rushes over to put an arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder as they both look at me.
“Feeling better, Dad?” Terrence asks him.
I know how disingenuous this prick is. All he wants is a big chunk of the Morgan family fortune. He never gave a shit about my dad. It’s been the root of our discord from the minute he and his mother walked into our home years ago.
“Much better, thank you, Terrence,” Dad replies. His hair has gotten thinner and whiter, but he seems stronger. The old man isn’t ready to retire from the company, let alone this life. “Cole, what’s with all the yelling?”
“You’re giving them too much leeway with the ballroom, for starters,” I say. “The chandeliers are part of this space. They’ve been up there since the estate was built. You said so yourself.”
“Maybe it’s time for a change,” he replies. “Let’s see what the ballroom looks like with the new fixtures. If we don’t like it, we could always change them back.”
It’s a shame we couldn’t change him back to being a widower again.
“Sheila spoke to Mr. Bennington without me or Toby or Asher present regarding your will,” I add. “It’s an issue.”
“It’s only an issue if I wasn’t made aware of it,” Dad says. “But I was.”
“So you’re seriously considering the amendment?”
Sheila scoffs and rolls her eyes, but her demeanor is softer in his presence. “Cole, for God’s sake. Terrence is as much a part of this family as I am. He deserves more. And he’s already expressed a desire to work for your father.”
I’m surprised and don’t bother hiding it. “You have?” I ask Terrence.
“I did. As a matter of fact, I’m starting right after the honeymoon, in mid-January,” he replies with a cocky grin.
“You have no background in the finance sector. That MBA you got was bought and paid for by your mother. You spent most of your college years drinking and partying. What the hell do you know about running a business?”
“And you were off fighting with the Marines for years before you came back to work in my company,” Dad reminds me, “while your brothers built businesses of their own. Forgive me if I’m growing more interested in making sure that my legacy, my family’s success, stays in the family.”
