Shattered Dynasty

No. I would have known.

Wouldn’t I?

“Why would he do that?” I hear my sister say. Well, she mumbles it under her breath, but it’s not low enough for no one to hear it because then he speaks. The one whose full attention is still pinned on me, and there’s no hiding the storm of hatred brewing inside him. His voice sounds like he’s chewing on gravel.

“I know exactly why he did it. He put it in that little girl’s name, so we couldn’t touch it.”

Little girl.

He spits it out like I’m beneath him. If I were any less secure in myself, the words would claw at me. As it is, I find my fingers curling inward, nails pinching the sensitive flesh of my palms.

“But why not put it in my name?” Erin stands and whines.

“Because it’s obvious.” He moves away from the wall and into the middle of the room; his focus is now on her, and it’s lethal. So lethal, my shameless sister staggers back. On the other hand, Trent’s sister reaches out to stop him, but the man she’s with holds her back.

“You were just a whore,” Trent says as if he’s reading the weather. He circles her like a predator at the top of the food chain. “And if you think he gave a shit about either of you, you’re wrong. Whatever promises he gave you are lies.” This time, he stares at me. Steps closer. Steals my freaking breath with the bloodthirst leaping out of him. “He didn’t give a shit about anyone. Only himself. You are nothing. You are no one.”

“Trent,” his sister begs.

“Stay out of this, Ivy,” he warns, but for her, he pulls back the bite from his voice. For me, it reappears in full force. He jerks his thumb at Erin. “This home-wrecker and her sister were his way around giving us his money, Ivy. This was in place just in case Mom divorced him?which she eventually did?and couldn’t touch this money because she didn’t even know about it.” His laughter is a dry rumble. He peers down at the floor as if he has a direct line to hell. “Good work, Dad. Point to you, fucking bastard.”

No one corrects Trent.

Not his sister.

Not her man.

Not their mother.

Certainly not Erin, who looks unapologetic. Actually, she looks furious at me. I can’t wait to hear all the accusations she’ll hurl my way after this meeting adjourns.

Not.

Mr. Baker clears his throat. “There’s something else you should know.”

Jeez. The more tidbits he imparts on us, the more fucked up this situation gets.

“Great.” Trent throws his hands in the air, releasing a scoff. “Now what? What else did that asshole do?”

“As I was saying before, we set the account up before his death. He controlled the money. It pays for Payton’s college and cost of living, but your father saw to managing it. She can’t access the funds. When he was in jail, I served as his proxy. He gave me directions, and I made sure everything he wanted was taken care of.”

Trent’s eyes narrow. “You knew. This whole time, you knew.”

It’s obvious. As his lawyer, Mr. Baker had to know. Trent isn’t just now coming to this realization. He’s putting the accusation into the air as a warning. For later.

The sharp edge to his words may as well hold a blade because it cuts through the thinly held peace like a dagger.

And like an idiot, Erin doesn’t heed the warning. “I don’t understand. My sister has the money, but she can’t touch it?” Mr. Baker nods, eliciting a gasp from Erin. “Then how can she use it?”

“Mr. Aldridge set up the funds in a trust. Originally, she never had access to it. But recently, when he went to jail, he had it amended.”

“How?”

“He set up provisions and a contingency plan.”

“Such as?” Trent presses, looking like he needs ten years of meditation to undo the shitstorm from the past ten minutes. Or someone to release his pent-up anger on.

That is starting to seem like me.

Lovely.

Mr. Baker edges behind me, putting space between him and Trent. “We set the account up to pay for her lifestyle until she turns twenty-two, then she can control it.”

“And how old is she?”

I wave. “I’m here, you know. You can ask me yourself.”

He looks me over like I’m the dirt beneath his shoe.

“As I was saying, how old?”

“Twenty-one,” Mr. Baker says, still hiding behind me.

Coward.

The beginnings of a smirk form on Trent’s lips. He has the glistening, devious eyes of a viper and the behavior to match them. “Interesting . . .”

I still.

“That’s why I called this meeting,” Mr. Baker says, and I know things are about to get very bad for me.

“Who is in charge of the estate until that day?” Trent asks.

“You are.”

Trent’s eyes meet mine, and if I thought the last look he gave me was terrible, this one is like the devil rose from hell and took form in his body. A sinister smile slices across his face. It downright frightens me.