“I know.”
“I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything.” The words robotically, automatically, sprang from my mouth—surprising even me. I’d stayed out of the family business for years, but now it was time. This was my legacy. Myfamily. I was the only Barrington remaining.
“There’s no need. I can manage things,” Miranda said, an undercurrent of a warning in her voice.
“Not so fast, Miranda.” Of course, my stepmother was already making a power grab. “Iwill be managing things. I’ll be at Barrington Manor as soon as I can. Don’t do anything until I arrive.”
Before she could protest further, I hung up.
I rested my head on my desk, wishing I could go back in time so none of this would be true. But they were gone. I’d felt alone for years, but now it was official. It hadn’t even been a day, yet Miranda was already ready to pounce.
But I was not about to let my stepmother get the best of me.
Not this time.
Not with everything on the line.
The funeral services were grueling.The turnout was magnificent—both my father and brother would’ve been pleased—but for me it was unbearable. The morning stretched out, an endless series of handshakes, stiff hugs, and condolences I couldn’t begin to be grateful for.
Dad and William were the ones who were gone. But I felt dead inside, too.
Grief is a funny thing. I knew that I should feel sad, but instead I felt nothing, just a vague emptiness. I understood that something was occupying that space, and eventually, I would have to face it. But for now? I stood side by side by side in the receiving line with my wicked stepmother, Miranda Barrington. She wore a black gown with white gloves, her auburn hair swept up off of her unnaturally smooth face. “It’s a good turnout, don’t you think?” she asked, her tone cool, almost indifferent. We could have been talking about a rummage sale.
“I think Father and William would be pleased,” I replied.
“How would you know?” She shot me a sideways glance. “It’s not like you’ve been around them in a long time. I can’t even remember the last time you visited for the holidays.”
“It’s because I’ve been busy working, Miranda—something you know little about.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said smoothly, plastering a smile onto her face as the next wave of mourners approached. “I’ve been extremely involved with the business over the past few years. So involved, in fact, that your father deemed me ‘essential.’ That was the very word he used, isn’t that nice?”
“It’s nice if you believe it, which I don’t.” I also plastered a smile on my face.
“Well, you don’t have to believe it for it to be true,” Miranda said. “Your father said my loyalty would be rewarded. Healsosaid that your inability to grow up and settle down would be your undoing.”
“He never said that.”
“Did so,” Miranda taunted, sounding like a child.
The receiving line picked up again, ending our discussion. Which was fine with me, except that Miranda’s words had hit their target: they’d rankled me.
Not helping matters was the fact that my brother’s ex-wife, the former model Gigi Barrington, stood on my other side. Gigi wore an edgy black dress with a giant slit up the front, stacked bangles, smoky eye makeup, and a perpetual scowl. She was here for appearances only, and perhaps an early handout from the estate.
Gigi and William had divorced acrimoniously years ago, right after Luke's birth. Four-year-old Luke stood behind his mother, woefully out of place and solemn in his small suit. His face was pale. He didn’t seem to understand what was happening, and his mother continued to ignore him as he tugged on her dress.
His nanny, Maria, came to the rescue. “May I take him for a break?” she asked Gigi.
Gigi glared at Maria. The nanny, a kindly grandmotherly type, had worked for William. Gigi and Maria had never been friendly. “Just make sure you bring him back,” Gigi snapped.
“Of course,” Maria said, ducking her head beneath her mass of black curls. She was probably trying to hide a look of disgust. Gigi wasn’t exactly in the running for Mom of the Year. She barely saw Luke, almost always canceling her time with him. William complained that the few times shehadtaken the boy, he’d returned dirty, hungry, and wearing the same clothes he’d been dropped off in.
"Come on, buddy. Let’s go get a snack and some fresh air." Maria gathered up a relieved-looking Luke and carried him out of the service, kissing his head.
I plastered another fake smile on my face as more mourners approached the line. “You should be nicer to the nanny,” I whispered to Gigi.
“You should mind your own business,” Gigi seethed.
“She takes good care of him. Which is more than you can say.”
