“Where to?” He heads to the door, steps matching mine.
“The old mansion. I need to check the old documents.”
We drive in silence to my family’s old mansion. I used to come here as a child with my parents; my mother hated it and said it was too dark and too sad, and now it looms ahead, and I remember how right she was.
The mansion is kept by an old man that my father hired, and I keep it. I considered moving into this place before buying one near Declan, but this one is huge – four floors, thirty-two rooms. It’s too much; I barely like the one I got. I’m not the mansion kind of guy.
Kaden parks in front of the house after we cross the locked gate. I pull the keys out and open the door with a creaking sound like one out of a haunted house movie.
The house looks taken off; dust and cloths cover the furniture, and it smells like old wood.
We head to my grandfather’s study; I open the doors, and it looks like a fucking museum. It’s exactly as I remember it, and I haven’t been here in fifteen years.
“Look for anything about my great-grandfather.” I tell Kaden, and he moves to the shelves, pulling file after file. I dig into his desk, opening drawers and cabinets. A lot of files about the families and the past, but nothing personal.
One file catches my eye; it has a symbol, the old Consortium one we stopped using when my father and Callaghan’s father took over. It confirms what we already know: the first two families to form the Consortium, at the time it was called Teglach—family—were the Bradys and the Callaghans; only four years later the Keeffes joined in, and one year after the Flanaghans. Then the name changes to the Irish Consortium.
It was easier and sounded more professional, since we are supposed to be a company of importers and exporters.
“I think I found it.” Kaden cuts through my thoughts.
I stride towards him and pick the files, wedding certificates dating from my great-great-grandfather up to my parents. There is a sheet for each woman, all from rich families, that struck deals; even though my parents loved each other, I knew their marriage was set before they even met. When my father was killed, my mom entered depression; ‘broken heart’ is what the doctors told me when she passed a year later, leaving me alone. No siblings, no one.
The Callaghans filled that void; we had already been inseparable since we were kids, but with both our parents killed, we got closer.
Declan’s mother was killed with her father; she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. She was my mother’s best friend too.
“Flynn.” Kaden calls as my mind keeps taking a walk on the fucking memory lane. “Look.”
He points to the sheet under the one I’m staring at, my great-grandmother, and under it should have a list of the family assets, money, and lands, but it’s empty. There is only one signature. I look closer and realise it says Callaghan. Declan’s great-grandfather signed; he authorised it, which means—I let out a smirk.
“Thank fuck.” I murmur, and Kaden lets out a breath.
“She will be pissed, you know that, right?” Kaden stares at me with a grin.
“Oh, I know.” My smile is wider. I can’t wait to hear her scream.
My phone rings, Kian on the other end.
“It’s confirmed.” He says.
“I got the papers.” I give them to Kaden, who snatches a bunch of pictures.
“Is Declan there?” I know he is; Kian probably woke him up the moment he hung up my call.
“I’m here.” His voice is low and rough.
“I need your oval of approval,” I say.
There’s a minute of silence. “You have it, brother.”
“Tomorrow, at five in the afternoon, the old chapel,” I say, and he agrees.
Tomorrow Autumn Glass will become Autumn Brady, whether she likes it or not.
Chapter Twenty-two
Autumn
