The Inheritance Games (The Inheritance Games #1)(10)

“Mr. Hawthorne stipulated that all of the following individuals must be physically present for the reading of this will: Skye Hawthorne, Zara Hawthorne-Calligaris, Nash Hawthorne, Grayson Hawthorne, Jameson Hawthorne, Alexander Hawthorne, and Ms. Avery Kylie Grambs of New Castle, Connecticut.”

I felt about as conspicuous as I would have if I’d looked down and discovered that I wasn’t wearing clothes.

“Since you are all here,” Mr. Ortega continued, “we may begin.”

Beside me, Libby slipped her hand into mine.

“I, Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne,” Mr. Ortega read, “being of sound body and mind, decree that my worldly possessions, including all monetary and physical assets, be disposed of as follows.

“To Andrew and Lottie Laughlin, for years of loyal service, I bequeath a sum of one hundred thousand dollars apiece, with lifelong, rent-free tenancy granted in Wayback Cottage, located on the western border of my Texas estate.”

The older couple I’d seen earlier leaned into each other. All I could think was: ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS. The Laughlins’ presence wasn’t mandatory for the reading of the will, and they’d just been given one hundred thousand dollars. Apiece!

I tried very hard to remember how to breathe.

“To John Oren, head of my security detail, who has saved my life more times and in more ways than I can count, I leave the contents of my toolbox, held currently in the offices of McNamara, Ortega, and Jones, as well as a sum of three hundred thousand dollars.”

Tobias Hawthorne knew these people, I told myself, heart thumping. They worked for him. They mattered to him. I’m nothing.

“To my mother-in-law, Pearl O’Day, I leave an annuity of one hundred thousand dollars a year, plus a trust for medical expenses as set forth in the appendix. All jewelry belonging to my late wife, Alice O’Day Hawthorne, shall pass to her mother upon my death, to be distributed as she sees fit upon hers.”

Nan harrumphed. “Don’t you go getting any ideas,” she ordered the room at large. “I’m going to outlive you all.”

Mr. Ortega smiled, but then that smile faltered. “To…” He paused and then tried again. “To my daughters, Zara Hawthorne-Calligaris and Skye Hawthorne, I leave the funds necessary to pay off all debts accrued as of the date and time of my death.” Mr. Ortega paused again, his lips pushing themselves together. The other two lawyers stared straight ahead, avoiding looking at any member of the Hawthorne family directly.

“Additionally, I leave to Skye my compass, may she always know true north, and to Zara, I leave my wedding ring, may she love as wholly and steadfastly as I loved her mother.”

Another pause, more painful than the last.

“Go on.” That came from Zara’s husband.

“To each of my daughters,” Mr. Ortega read slowly, “beyond that already stated, I leave a one-time inheritance of fifty thousand dollars.”

Fifty thousand dollars? I’d no sooner thought those words than Zara’s husband echoed them out loud, irate. Tobias Hawthorne left his daughters less than he left his security detail.

Suddenly, Skye’s reference to Grayson as the heir apparent took on a whole new meaning.

“You did this.” Zara turned toward Skye. She didn’t raise her voice, but it was deadly all the same.

“Me?” Skye said, indignant.

“Daddy was never the same after Toby died,” Zara continued.

“Disappeared,” Skye corrected.

“God, listen to you!” Zara lost her hold on her tone. “You got in his head, didn’t you, Skye? Batted your eyelashes and convinced him to bypass us and leave everything to your—”

“Sons.” Skye’s voice was crisp. “The word you’re looking for is sons.”

“The word she’s looking for is bastards.” Nash Hawthorne had the thickest Texas accent of anyone in the room. “Not like we haven’t heard it before.”

“If I’d had a son…” Zara’s voice caught.

“But you didn’t.” Skye let that sink in. “Did you, Zara?”

“Enough.” Zara’s husband stepped in. “We will sort this out.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing to be sorted.” Mr. Ortega reentered the fray. “You will find the will is ironclad, with significant disincentives to any who might be tempted to challenge it.”

I translated that to mean, roughly, shut up and sit down.

“Now, if I may continue…” Mr. Ortega looked back down at the will in his hands. “To my grandsons, Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, and Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, I leave…”

“Everything,” Zara muttered bitterly.

Mr. Ortega spoke over her. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece, payable on their twenty-fifth birthdays, until such time to be managed by Alisa Ortega, trustee.”

“What?” Alisa sounded shocked. “I mean… what?”

“The hell,” Nash told her pleasantly. “The phrase you’re looking for, darlin’, is what the hell?”

Tobias Hawthorne hadn’t left everything to his grandsons. Given the scope of his fortune, he’d left them a pittance.

“What is going on here?” Grayson asked, each word deadly and precise.