“I find it hard to believe there’s nothing to drink in the break room,” Grandmother says smoothly.
“I don’t offer refreshment to my enemies,” I respond.
Travis lets out a soft laugh meant to break the tension. “Come on, now. We’re hardly your enemies.”
My eyes slide to him. Whatever he sees there makes him shut up instantly.
“This is irregular. If you have something to say, you should’ve come to McLean,” Mom tries again, referring to the family estate that overlooks the Potomac in Virginia. “It’s very inconvenient for all of us to travel out here.”
“And have this fight on your turf?” I say. “I don’t think so.”
“Sebastian, what’s gotten into you? We aren’t your enemies.” Grandfather puts a warm and conciliatory spin on the words.
“Really. So what do you call somebody who gives you a choice between marrying a nightmare of a woman or losing what’s rightfully yours?”
His smile freezes for a second. He wasn’t expecting me to be so blunt, since I’m generally circumspect around my elders. But the good humor returns to his face just as quickly as it dissolved. “It’s called making a sacrifice for the good of the family.”
The other three nod like puppets.
“I see. Then you won’t mind if I ask you to share in the sacrifice,” I say.
Mom blinks. “What do you mean? We can’t all marry Lucienne.”
I pull out some copies from the folder and pass them around. My family dutifully takes one each. “It’s a contract. Read it and sign it.”
They begin to take a look. Mom’s the first to react, but she’s a fast reader. “This is preposterous!”
Grandfather lifts his head. “Is this a joke?” The open friendliness is gone now.
Their complaints feel like pebbles tossed by a toddler in a snit. “What’s so unjust about it? I’m getting tied to a woman I don’t want to marry. This is the least you can do.”
“But giving you full control over our trust funds?” Mom’s gone shrill. “And we can’t even leave our trusts to whomever we want without your permission?”
“Correct. I wouldn’t want you bequeathing money to somebody I don’t like. Preston, for instance.” He doesn’t have his own trust fund anymore. It was something Mom had to agree to take away when I was forced to clean up after him for the third time.
“So you can keep all our money for yourself?” Travis looks stunned. He’s never seen me in even-the-scales mode.
I laugh. “Why would I want that petty cash?”
“Then why are you doing this?” Grandmother sounds like she’s about to have a heart attack.
“I’m taking away control over what’s important to you—money.” My family never shows how much money means to them, but they adore it. The luxurious trips. The ability to indulge every whim. The gorgeous clothes, jewelry, homes and cars.
They’re too scared to trust that I won’t strip them of their money.
“We aren’t signing this,” Grandfather announces.
“Well then.” I shrug. “I’m not marrying Lucienne Peery.”
“But the family can’t afford to give her thirty percent of the company!” Mom wails.
“I know.” I smile, happy that I won’t have to waste my breath explaining the situation to her. “You’ve backed yourselves into a corner quite nicely.”
“Sebastian!” Mom says, trying for some maternal authority.
I shrug. “You shouldn’t have signed the contract behind my back.”
“But it benefits you! You’re getting Sebastian Jewelry!” she says.
