Maria stared at him with wide eyes. “Oh, mio Dio!”
“Really? You’re kidding me.” Connor seemed taken aback but also strangely amused. “Way to go, Maria. That’s awesome for you. Congrats.”
Sloane pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s wonderful, Maria. Well deserved.”
Ruth handed Maria a tissue, which she used to dab at her tears.
“Connor and Sloane,” Mr.Wainwright continued. “Out of the UK investment portfolio, your father has left you each three million pounds.”
“Excellent,” Connor said, sitting forward to rest his forearms on the table, his hands folded.
“Mrs.Wilson, he left you the Caravaggio painting that hangs over the fireplace in the main reception room.”
Kate laughed bitterly. “Really. I begged him to give me that in the divorce settlement, but he flat out refused.”
“Don’t complain, Mom,” Connor said. “You got it in the end.”
She sat back and folded her arms. “Well, I’m glad to finally have it. I’m the one who suggested that he bid on it.”
Mr.Wainwright flipped another page. “As for the business of Maurizio Wines, which includes the winery and all its inventory, buildings, and equipment, nine hundred hectares of land in Tuscany, and all its cash holdings—this has been bequeathed to Fiona Bell.”
What did he just say?
The room fell silent, and my mouth went dry.
“What?”Connor shouted.
As if in slow motion, Mr.Wainwright picked up another sheet of paper from his stack of notes and flipped it over. In a bewildered daze, I stared at that sheet, like a leaf floating on air.
Connor stood up and pressed his open hands to the top of his head. “Tell me you didn’t say what I think you said. I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
The lawyer repeated himself, and everyone continued to stare at me.
“That can’t be right,” Sloane said, unconvinced. “Why would he leave everything to her?”
I sat motionless, unable to utter a single word.
Connor glared at me maliciously. “What the hell did you do?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, still not accepting what was happening here. There had to be some mistake. Anton wouldn’t have left meeverything.
“You heard me,” Connor replied. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I blurted out, defensively.
He turned his attention back to the lawyers. “This can’t be right.”
“I’m afraid it is,” Mr.Wainwright replied. “Your father was very clear about his final wishes.”
“With who?” Connor asked. “You? Were you there personally when he arrived at this decision?”
“No, but he was clear about it when he came to my office.”
Connor shook his head with disbelief. “Was he drunk?”
“No, he was altogether sober and in his right mind, I assure you.”
“How do you know that? Are you a doctor?”
