The Hawthorne Legacy (The Inheritance Games #2)(64)

“This is what my grandfather wanted,” Grayson replied, returning to his core message. “My brothers and I are lucky—luckier than almost anyone else watching this. We’ve been given every opportunity, and we have a lot of the old man in us. We’ll make our own way.” He glanced toward me again, but this time it felt more choreographed. “Someday, what I make of myself will give your fortune a run for its money.”

I grinned. Take that, Monica.

“Avery, how does it feel when Grayson says those words: your fortune?”

“Unreal.” I shook my head. “Before the will was read, back when I knew that I’d been left something but didn’t know what, I figured that Tobias Hawthorne had left me a couple thousand dollars. And even that? It would have been life-changing.”

“So this?”

“Unreal,” I repeated, projecting every ounce of gratitude and awe and bewilderment that I had felt in that moment.

“Do you ever feel like it might all go away?”

Beside me, Grayson shifted slightly, his body angling toward mine. But I didn’t need his protection right now. I was on a roll.

“Yes.”

“And what if I told you—both of you—that there might be another heir?”

I went still, my face frozen. I couldn’t risk even looking at Grayson, but I wondered if he’d sensed something was off the moment before, if that was why he’d shifted. I could see now all the ways the interviewer had been leading up to this. She’d asked Grayson about overturning the will—twice. She’d asked me how I’d feel if it all went away.

“Avery, do you know what the term pretermitted means, in the context of inheritance law?”

My brain couldn’t catch up fast enough. Toby. She can’t know about Toby. Skye doesn’t. Ricky doesn’t. “I…”

“It typically refers to an heir who was not yet born at the deceased’s time of death, but interpreted a bit more broadly, our experts say that it could refer to any heir who was not ‘alive’ at the time of death.”

She knew. I glanced at Grayson. I couldn’t help it. His gaze was focused on the interviewer’s as he spoke. “I’m sure your experts told you that in the state of Texas, a pretermitted child is entitled only to a share that is equal to the deceased’s other children’s.” Grayson’s eyes were sharp—and so was his close-lipped smile. “Since my grandfather left very little to his children, even if he had somehow conceived a child before his death, it would hardly alter the distribution of his assets at all.”

In that moment, Grayson didn’t seem like he was nineteen years old. He hadn’t just spouted off legal precedent—he’d deliberately overlooked the fact that Monica had made it clear she wasn’t talking about an unborn child.

“Your family really has been looking for loopholes, haven’t they?” Monica said, but she didn’t mean it as a question. “Perhaps they should have a sit-down with our experts, because it’s not clear, based on precedent, whether a child assumed to be dead would be entitled only to their siblings’ share, or to the share left to that child in a prior will.”

Grayson stared her down. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

He did. Of course he did. He was just hiding it better than I did, because all I could do was sit there silently and think one name, over and over.

Toby.

“You had an uncle.” Monica was still focused on Grayson.

“He died,” Grayson said sharply. “Before I was even born.”

“Under tragic and suspicious circumstances.” Monica swung her head to face me. “Avery.” She hit a button on a remote I hadn’t even been aware she was holding. A trio of pictures flashed on a large screen behind us.

The same pictures I’d shown Mrs. Laughlin the day before.

“Who is this man?”

I swallowed. “My friend. Harry.” Tell a story. “We used to play chess in the park.”

“Do you have many friends in their forties?”

When you can’t tell the truth, tell a truth. Tell a story. “He was the only one who could take my queen. We had a running bet: If I won a game, he had to let me buy him breakfast. I knew he didn’t have the money to buy it himself. I was afraid he might not eat otherwise, but he hated charity, so I had to win, fair and square.”

I’d done Landon proud—but Monica wasn’t deterred. “So it is your statement that this man is not Tobias Hawthorne the Second?”

“How dare you?” Grayson’s voice vibrated with intensity. He stood. “Hasn’t my family suffered enough? We just lost my grandfather. To dredge up this tragedy—”

“Avery.” Monica knew who the weak link here was. “Is this or is this not Tobias Hawthorne’s supposedly deceased son? The true heir to the Hawthorne fortune?”

“This interview is over.” Grayson turned to block the camera and helped me to my feet. He met my gaze, and even though he didn’t say a word, I heard him loud and clear: We need to get out of here.

He ushered me to the wings, where Alisa was trying to bust past a security guard. Monica followed us, a cameraman with a handheld in her wake. “What is your connection to Toby Hawthorne?” she yelled after me.

The world was falling down around me. We hadn’t prepared for this. I wasn’t ready. But I had an answer to that question. I had a truth, and if they knew this much, then what would the harm be in telling them the rest.