Page 19 of Threaded Lies

“Other than to screw Holden over.”

“Yes. That.” I take a sip of wine and fight that inherent part of me that knows how angry Gran would be with me while justifying it with her own words: Assess. Adjust. Adapt. Kick ass. “In my head I was thinking that all the men in my life had screwed me over by working the system somehow, so why can’t I?”

“Again, I’m not going to argue. That man has been in love with you forever. A type of love that, if it was really real, would have led him to tell you everything that was going on with the company and your brother, rather than hide it. So yes, I hate that he’ll be hurt because Chad is a good guy, but I fully support you using all means necessary to get what you need, what is rightfully yours, and getting it sooner rather than later.”

“So the question, my smart, witty friend … is how do I do this? Is it feasible to bypass the addendum? If I were to get the money, what is the best way to use it to hold on to TinSpirits? If none of the above, then how do I use these added shares marrying Chad will net me in my favor when Holden will still be the majority owner?”

“Is this an off-the-record or an on-the-record question?” she asks pointedly.

“It can be any kind of record you want.” I scoot yet another one of Gran’s collections—a jar of pennies—across the desk toward her. “If you need a retainer to make this official under attorney-client privilege, then here you go.”

“Look at you being all crafty.”

I smirk. “I’m not here to win favors from anyone.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” She twists her lips and nods as her expression morphs into business with hard lines and narrowed eyes. “Legally, your options are limited when it comes to Gran’s will and the addendum.”

“You’re supposed to offer support, not squash it,” I say wryly. Then I look at the four bottles of wine she brought with her earlier and remember that I do, in fact, love her despite her brutal honesty.

“You’d want nothing less from me.”

“True, but no doubt, it will still hurt.”

She chuckles in agreement. “So, other than Henry Williams throwing his Juris Doctor out the window and being completely unethical?”

“Yes, other than that.”

“Because that is what you asked Chad to convince his uncle to do, correct? To pretend like the two-year addendum Gran drew up never happened since the only two people who knew about it were you and him.”

I twist my lips. It was a big ask, a huge one. And I think Chad wants to prove his worth to me so desperately, he just might push for it.

“I didn’t give specifics about the addendum—just that it held a time frame to receive my inheritance—but yes, I did ask him if he’d talk to his uncle and see if maybe he could bend the rules for me.”

She whistles, low and long, and I swear I can feel the judgment like a spray of perfume misting my skin. “Good thing this is off the record.” She scoots the jar of pennies closer to her and chuckles. “But is now covered by attorney-client privilege.”

“Good thing.”

“Is it feasible to disregard the addendum? Well, the main argument one could use with the addition of the two-year parameter is that Gran wasn’t of sound mind. But that is no longer valid seeing as the question would have had to have been raised before she signed anything.”

“Shit.” Which is why asking Chad to pressure his uncle is that much more important.

“My other suggestion on how to deem it null and void would be if it weren’t executed, or her signing it wasn’t witnessed, but everything is electronic these days—”

“Not my gran. She was old-school and refused to do any kind of electronic signature.”

“Well, that’s even harder to prove then, given it’d be in her penmanship.”

“Gah. I know something is hinky with it. I can feel it.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s stupid.” I scrunch my nose and heat creeps up my cheeks. But it’s Sloane. She knows every kiss, every breakup, every everything I’ve done. “I had a dream when I was in Georgia. Gran was in it. We were in this room.”

“And that’s why you’re going through all these stacks? Because you think Gran was telling you something?”

I chuckle nervously. “It sounds ridiculous.”

“No, honey. It sounds like grief and coping with it. This is where you feel closest to her. Of course you’re going to have dreams about her and read into every single thing about them. That’s what everyone does.”