He saw me. Smiled that practiced, political smile. "Riven. Perfect timing."
I kept walking.
"Riven, wait." He followed, his Italian leather shoes clicking on the linoleum. "We need to talk."
"No."
"It's about the estate. Multiple documents require your signature. The Connecticut property can't remain in probate indefinitely."
I stopped. Turned. "I told you six months ago—I want nothing to do with it."
"You can't ignore it forever," August said in that maddeningly patient tone, like he was being the reasonable one. "Your father left you everything. The house, the investment portfolio, the foundation. It's legally yours."
"I don't want it."
"That's not how inheritance law works. You can't refuse simply because you're angry."
"I'm not angry." The lie tasted bitter. "I'm uninterested."
"Riven—"
"We're done here." I turned and started walking.
"You can't avoid this forever!" he called after me.
I didn't answer. Just walked until I reached my office and shut the door firmly enough to be heard.
My hands were shaking as I sat at my desk and stared at nothing. I tried to breathe past the tightness in my chest.
August had no right appearing at my workplace, cornering me in public, demanding I deal with things I'd made explicitly clear I wanted no part of.
The estate. The inheritance. My father's legacy.
It could all rot for all I cared.
I stayed at the hospital until well past seven—long past when I should’ve left. By the time I drove home, the rage had transformed into something colder, more restless and corrosive.
When I arrived home, I could hear music blasting and could smell something in the kitchen.
Mireya emerged, smiling brightly. "Hey. I ordered from your favorite place. Figured you'd be starving after that valve replacement."
I barely looked at the containers on the counter. "I'm not hungry."
Her smile faded. "Oh. Okay. I can put it away?—"
"Where's Emma?"
"In her room. Doing homework."
I walked past her without another word, down the hallway. Emma's door stood open, light spilling out. She sat at her desk with headphones on, surrounded by textbooks and papers covered in chemical equations.
I knocked. She pulled off the headphones.
"It's after ten," I said. "Why are you still up?"
"Homework. AP Chem is killing me." She gestured at the mess. "Almost done though."
"You should've finished earlier."
