Somehow I’m too late.
The expression of sympathy on Mr. Stewart’s face is the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Worse than the cruel look on Gabriel’s face when he said the words magic cunt. “We received a call yesterday that Mr. James would be required to vacate the premises.”
“Did Daddy know?” My voice cracks. “Did he know we’d lost the house?”
A grim pause. “He knew.”
There’s only one question. “Who?”
Did Uncle Landon find a way to break through the trust, his revenge for choosing the auction over his proposal? It hurts to think about, but maybe that’s not the answer. Maybe it’s much more obvious—and much more painful. Did Gabriel Miller figure out a way to circumvent the trust and take ownership of the house?
I look down at the yellow sheet of paper, already crushed in my fists. I smooth it open as if it’s an ancient scroll, the secrets of lost treasure written on parchment. There’s legalese about vacating the premises—that’s what my mother’s legacy has been reduced to, premises.
And then I see it, the holding company with a corporate address.
Miller Industries.
That’s Gabriel Miller’s company. Which means he now has possession of this house. Did he engineer this entire thing? A ruthless takeover, except this isn’t business. It’s personal. He must have known what I would find when he sent me away.
And he had hired Mr. Stewart. Gabriel might have known about my father’s coronary, too. Had he sent me home as some twisted kindness, knowing my father would need me now?
But I won the game, didn’t I? You lost.
No, Gabriel doesn’t know how to be kind.
I latch on to the only hope I have. “There has to be something we can do. Fight it. Appeal. This is my house. My mother’s house.”
Mr. Stewart shakes his head. “You’ll have to speak to a lawyer.”
A lawyer, like the kind who couldn’t save my father from disgrace. The kind who made sure he paid every cent he owned in restitution and penalties. They won’t help us. “What happens?” I say, desperate now. “You must have seen this before. What happens to the house?”
“It depends,” he says slowly. “But in these cases, where the house is taken to settle payments owed, it will be put up for sale. It will be put up for auction.”
My heart clenches hard. Put up for auction, like my body. Like everything about my life, for sale to the highest bidder. I already sold my virginity, but it didn’t matter. I still lost the house. And my father might die.
Checkmate.
* * *