She shrugs her bony shoulders. “Fine. I’ll tell theBluegrass Buzzhow our dad hit that family’s minivan because he was too focused on the blowjob my mom was giving him.”
Ivy gasps, “Madison.”
“How the hell did you hear about that?” I demand.
She looks at me with our father’s cold blue eyes, the same eyes I have, and repeats what she told me in the funeral home. “I go unnoticed by most adults. And I listen.”
“Then tell them, kid,” I bluff. “After you do, you’ll want nothing more than to get the hell out of here. You think life is rough now as the rumored illegitimate child of Louis Blackstone, wait until your classmates get hold of your tell-all. Kids are cruel.”
“So are adults,” she fires back.
Daniel clears his throat. "Ms. Payne, I should inform you that if you're considering any public disclosure involving Blackstone Distillery's business operations or the family's private affairs, there could be significant legal ramifications—"
"For who?" Madison asks. "I didn't sign an NDA."
Daniel rubs his temples. "That's... technically correct. However—"
“However nothing,” I interrupt. I point at Madison.“Listen to me. I’m not putting my mother throughyou. She just lost her husband. And while their marriage was far from perfect, she doesn’t deserve your disrespect.”
“I’m not doing this to disrespect your mom, but you’re forgetting I just lost mine. And my Dad. Do I have to lose my friends? My life here?” Tears fill her eyes, but I refuse to let them touch me. “And my mom was a good mom.”
I scoff. Good moms don't arm their fourteen-year-olds with blackmail material and call it insurance.
Ivy slides an arm around Madison in a side hug and the teen leans into it. Madison turns. “I’m sorry, Ivy. But I barely know you. And everything I know is here. My friends, my school. I don’t want to leave.”
“But I can’t stay. I’ll lose my job,” Ivy explains, rubbing Madison’s arm.
“Tell them you’re working on my guardianship proceedings and I’m refusing to leave.”
“They won’t care.”
“They will when you tell them I’m a Blackstone.”
“I don’t—”
“You’re not a Blackstone,” I tell Madison.
“I have my mom’s last name, but your dad’s name is on my birth certificate.”
“He would never be that stupid,” I counter.
“They made a deal: he signed the birth certificate, she signed an NDA not to tell anyone that he's my father, unless he died. He set up a trust for me and wanted to make sure I got it.”
And what does he care if we have to deal with this going public after he’s in the ground? Typical Louis Blackstone. Bitterness damn near chokes me.
“How do you even know about all this?” Sebastian asks.
“My mom told me.” Her voice cracks slightly. She looks around the table, and for just a second, I see the scared kid beneath the blackmailer. Fourteen. Orphaned. Desperate.
Christ. I almost feel bad for her. Almost. Then I remember my mother's face at the funeral. This kid isn’t completely alone, and she's also holding a gun to our heads.
“That doesn’t make you our problem,” I tell her.
“Wow. You’re an asshole,” Ivy mutters.
I look at her. “I am.”
Madison ignores us. “All I want is three months. With you. With my family.”
