She tried again.
He smiled.
That ended the discussion.
"I'll be brief," Bernard says, adjusting wire-rimmed glasses that look like they survived the Depression. "Richard's estate is substantial. Properties, trust funds, various holdings. Meticulously organized, as was his way."
Meticulous to the point of pathology.I hear Dad's voice in my head and have to look away, blinking fast.
"However, there is one unusual stipulation regarding the controlling shares of Davenport Holdings." Bernard clears his throat. The sound is too loud in the too-quiet room. "Isabelle Davenport will inherit full control of her father's shares, 65 percent of the company, on one condition."
Every eye in the room turns to me.
Julie stops dabbing. Harrison freezes with his drink halfway to his mouth. Even Great-Aunt Cordelia leans forward an inch.
I feel Sergei's gaze like a brand on the back of my neck.
"She must be legally married before her thirtieth birthday."
The words land like a bomb in a library.
"What?" My voice comes out strangled.
"Three months from today," Bernard continues like he didn't just detonate my entire life. "Should she fail to meet this requirement, the shares will be redistributed according to a secondary provision, granting controlling interest to?—"
"That's insane." I'm on my feet, heart slamming against my ribs. "My father would never do this. He hated arranged marriages, hated treating people like property?—"
"Your father was pragmatic." Mother's voice cuts through my panic, cool and sharp as a scalpel. "He added the clause six months ago. To protect you."
"Protect me?" I round on her. "From what?"
"From yourself." Matthew leans forward, elbows on knees, that vulture smile fixed in place. "You're a single woman attempting to control one of the oldest financial institutions in the world. The market is unkind to women without partners. A husband provides stability. Credibility. Protection from hostile takeovers?—"
"A husband provides nothing I can't provide for myself."
"The market disagrees." Mother sets down her teacup with a soft clink that sounds like a cell door closing. "You're young. Emotional. The board will eat you alive without someone steady beside you. Your father knew that."
"He would never force me into marriage."
"He believed in choice." Mother's eyes meet mine, identical blue, cold as a frozen lake. "I believe in survival. Weakness is a luxury the rich can't afford, Izzy."
The nickname sounds wrong in her mouth. Poisonous. Dad called me Izzy. She's always insisted on Isabelle, full name, like I'm being introduced to disappointment.
She's using his voice to bury me.
"However," she continues, smoothing her skirt like we're discussing weather, "I've taken the liberty of handling the situation."
Ice floods my veins. "Handling what?"
"Cal has graciously agreed to marry you."
The room tilts.
Cal Reznick straightens in his chair, that oily smile spreading across his face like something toxic. Matthew nods approvingly. Harrison raises his glass in a silent toast, smirking. Julie's eyes go wide with something that looks almost like pity.
Only Great-Aunt Cordelia's expression doesn't change. She's watching me. Watching them. Filing everything away behind those ancient, knowing eyes.
"Absolutely not."
