Shattered Dynasty

“So . . .” He stalks toward me, slow and measured. “I am in charge of the money.”

“Until she is twenty-two,” Mr. Baker clarifies, taking refuge behind Erin this time as Trent closes in on me.

“For the next year,” Trent follows up, another step closer.

“That is correct.”

The smile widens over Trent’s face. It makes him look a bit maniacal, and I don’t know what it means. I just know that I have three massive problems on my hands: a twenty-two-million-dollar fortune I have no access to, Erin’s wrath, and the full force of this stranger’s hatred.

“Is this all?” Trent asks the lawyer.

“In a nutshell.”

“Very well.”

The room falls eerily quiet.

If a pin dropped, you could hear it.

I can hear my sister breathing. Hell, I can hear my own heart beating. That’s how silent it is as we wait for Trent to do something.

By the look he just gave me, it will be deadly, that’s for sure.

Trent shifts.

We suck in a collective breath.

He steps in the direction of the door.

None of us dares to exhale.

He’s almost out of the room when he stops.

His head turns over his shoulder. There’s an odd look in his eyes. The blue is nearly gone, replaced by black. Almost like he’s been possessed.

“You will be hearing from me,” he says.

It’s a promise.

A promise of what? No clue. But when I return home to the house Ronnie rented me, I tuck myself into the bed he bought me. Beneath the sheets he gifted me, I curl myself into a ball and finally let the truth slip past my lips.

“I’m scared.”

5

Trent

* * *

Jail and death were too easy for that bastard.

The thought—and the accompanying desire to destroy something—bounces in my head as I exit the room, wishing for the first time that my father hadn’t keeled over in prison, and I had the opportunity to deliver the pain myself. I don’t stop walking until I’m outside. It’s only when the fresh air hits my face that I take a deep breath and try to calm down.

What the fuck was that shit?

I can’t even wrap my head around what just happened.

It feels like a fucking bomb just exploded. I walked into a landmine factory, and they all fucking detonated at the same time.

Not only was my dad a lying prick who had real money, but he set it up so even if we found the account, we wouldn’t be able to touch it.

The worst part, which feels like I’m being stabbed from within, is that he was still willing to sell Ivy. He always had the money. He just didn’t want to spend it.

I stare down at the pavement, a snarl forming on my lips.

You listening down there in hell, Dad? I’m taking your money. Sit back and enjoy the show.

Yeah, it technically belongs to that girl now, but I hold those damn purse strings. And I intend to tighten the hell out of them.

Maybe the idiot thought he was untouchable in jail.

Maybe he thought his appeal would go through.

Maybe he thought I’m a more forgiving person than I am.

Fuck.

Who knows what he thought? It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is figuring out a way to take the money from that girl. Payton.

It’s not that I need it. Nor do I want it. It’s that she and her gold digger sister are the reason Ivy was in a situation that hurt her. I don’t believe for a second they didn’t know about my family. It’s evident in Erin’s body language. The way she gloated beside Mom as if she’d been waiting years to meet her.

Usually, I’d at least try to be the bigger man, but I can’t.

Ivy is a good soul, my mother a better one.

This gold digger and the little girl hurt my family, and for that, they will pay.

Someone must take the brunt of my anger.

My eyes fix on a weed sprouting through a crack in the concrete. Most of it has died, the other part halfway to hell.

“A bill is due, and someone must pay it.” I grind my heel against the weed, snuffing out the remaining life and putting it out of its misery. And they say I’m not capable of mercy. “Since you aren’t here to face the consequences of your actions, Dad, you’ve limited my options. What happens next is on you.”

It didn’t matter that he died. Evil lasts forever. I have no doubt he’s in hell, watching this unfold. His fault for loving the girl. His fault for wanting her to be taken care of after he was in jail. His fault for leaving her here for the wolves.

For me.

Instantly, I know who to call.

Reaching into my back pocket, I fish out my cell phone, swipe the screen, and hit number two on speed dial (Ivy is number one. I love my sister. Sue me).