The Tycoon

“He can’t just…forget about us like that, can he?” Sabrina asked.

I wanted to tell my sisters that it was never a matter of forgetting about us. He’d never thought about us. We weren’t the boy children he wanted. We weren’t Dylan, who he’d waged—and lost—a custody battle for. We were pretty. Well, some of us were.

I was plain and dull.

And if he couldn’t marry us off, we were useless.

“This can’t be right, can it?” Bea asked, and I grabbed her shaking hands. “He can’t leave us nothing…can he? Surely there’s a trust. Some money.”

My sister spidey senses went on full alert again.

“What happens if Dylan decides to come back?” Clayton asked. He sat in the big leather chair closest to the fireplace. He had a half-empty tumbler of bourbon in his hand and his face was folded into careful lines.

Had he known about this?

“If Dylan comes back within the next six months, by June 17th, specifically, the estate is his,” Madison answered

“He’s never going to come back,” I said.

“Not even to save us?” Bea asked.

“Save us?” That was some dire language coming from a woman with a plan and a life far away from The King’s Land. And we had no idea what Dylan would do. He could come back, take over the estate, and sell everything. Burn it all to the ground.

“We have six months,” Sabrina said. “We might be able to convince him.”

There was no way. Just zero way Dylan was going to come back and be a hero. But I couldn’t say that to Sabrina, whose big brown eyes were wet with tears. Oh, God, she’d hero-worshiped him that summer. Pinned all this little-sister love onto the guy and he just…he just wasn’t worth it.

“Maybe,” I said, but to my own ears I wasn’t very convincing.

“There’s more,” Madison said.

“Oh, great!” My laughter was broken glass.

“There is some acreage that is left to Veronica King.”

All the eyes in the room turned to face me, and I found myself staring at Clayton. Warning bells were ringing in my head.

“Land?” I said.

“Twenty acres. It’s noted on the map on the third page.”

Clayton ripped through his packet of papers to the third page and whatever he saw there made him laugh. Harsh and ugly. We all flinched.

“Is this a joke?” he asked, holding up the paper.

Madison, still cool as a cucumber, shook her head. “It’s all included in the will.”

“Hank King,” Clayton said and stood up to refresh his glass of bourbon. Only this time he filled it all the way up. “An asshole to the very end.”

There was something powerful and infuriating about Clayton being pissed about the will.

Clayton, who just got every damn thing.

Except for the twenty acres that were mine.

I turned on Clayton. “Did you know he was doing this?”

He shook his head.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Because this is exactly what you wanted all along. This is what you would have married me to get. What a relief this must be, to get it without that pesky marriage part—”

Bea grabbed my hand and I realized what I sounded like. Unhinged. I took a deep breath and pulled myself back together.

“We need to talk,” Bea said to me. “Just…the three of us.”

She meant us. The sisters. And she was right. I tore my gaze away from Clayton and addressed Madison. “Could we please have the room?”

“There are a few more details…” the lawyer said. “Hank left provisions in the will for Trudy and Oscar and some other staff.”

“Of course,” Clayton said to Trudy and Oscar, who were looking shell-shocked in their own right. “Your home is here for as long as you care to stay.”

The kindness in his tone made me want to curl my lip and spit at him. Clayton drained his glass and set it down on the table with a thunk. I braced myself. For what, I didn’t know. Because there was literally nothing I would put past him. He could kick us out right now and I wouldn’t be surprised.

“Let’s give Veronica and her sisters a second to discuss the situation,” he said, and I blew out a careful breath. I refused to feel gratitude, but I couldn’t deny the relief.

It’s crazy how effective he was. How he commanded attention. Even the lawyer did as he asked.

We were all sheep to him.

Once everyone was out of the room I turned to Bea and Sabrina.

“Guys…” I launched into a pep talk I never thought I’d have to give. “I know this is shocking. But we don’t need anything from that man. We’re all doing so well without him.”

“Frank left,” Bea blurted. “He left and he took all our money with him.”

“What?” The word exploded out of me.

Bea rubbed her forehead with a shaking hand. “The loan from the bank, all our credit cards, the money I borrowed from you. What Jimmy had invested—it’s all gone.”