Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“What do you want, Reginald?” Eli asks, but Reginald narrows his eyes.
“You did use the money I gave you to make sure my little girl had every possible comfort, didn’t you? Like I said in my will?”
Eli shakes his head. “I gave her everything she needed. Food, love, a roof over her head. There was no need to touch her money.”
“And what about luxuries? What about things to make sure she wasn’t bullied at school for living on this god-damned farm? I didn’t…” Reginald glances from Eli to me and me to him. “You two seem awfully cozy.”
“Get out,” Eli says, his tone flat.
“Eli, what is going on here? Are you and… She’s your niece. This is…”
“I said get out of my house—”
“Why didn’t I know about the money?” I ask, staring at Eli. My head is swimming. It feels like my whole world has been turned upside down. “How much was there?”
“Does it matter? Were you ever unhappy?”
“No…” I think back. Well, there were times when things could have been easier. Unhappy? No. But… “Didn’t I have a right to know?”
“You mean to choose? Between the life we had together and the life you could have had on your own?”
Eli’s voice is calm, but his eyes are searching my face. I feel myself going red at the scrutiny. I hate it. I don’t know what’s going on right now, all I’m asking for is answers and I feel like I’m under attack from both sides.
“Two million,” Eli says. “There’s just over two million dollars, including the interest from the past ten years.”
Reginald laughs. “That’s a lie.” He turns to me. “He’s lying to you, Ruby. Two million might be what’s left after whatever he’s siphoned off. Is that it, brother? You’ve got a nice little nest egg growing somewhere where she can’t touch it?”
“Fuck you,” Eli growls. “I never touched a penny of her money. It’s all there, waiting for her.”
“Come with me,” Reginald says, reaching across the table and taking my hand in his. “Come with me, baby, and I’ll prove it to you. We don’t even have to go far. Just out to my car. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“No.” I shake my head, pulling away, reaching out for Eli’s hand. But where he’d normally take mine and squeeze it, he stays perfectly still.
“Go,” he says. “Go see what he wants to show you.”
“No. I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it. Money doesn’t matter to me. Eli, please…” I try to catch his eyes, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s staring across the table at Reginald.
“If you don’t,” he says, “you’ll always have questions. I’ll be right here when you need me. Go.”
My legs are like lead weights. I don’t want any of this.
Why couldn’t Reginald just stay dead?
I hate thinking that about my own father, but things were so much simpler without him around. I was happy with Eli. We were going to be together for the rest of our lives and now…
And now I’m not even sure we’re going to still be together at the end of the day.
What can Reginald possibly have to show me that is so important? He’s been gone for ten years. Out of my life. And I’ve been raised by his stepbrother. Raised and loved and given everything.
“I want to go back,” I say, starting to turn. “I want you to go. Please go!”
He grabs my arm, pulling me back. “No. Ruby, you have to see this.”
I shake my head. “I want to go back to Eli. I want to go back to the farm. Just—”
“Miss Morton?”
I turn at the sound of a woman’s voice. Cultured. Smooth. And so false. Like everything about the man who calls himself my father.
It’s not even my name. “I’m Ruby Heartson,” I say as I turn back around. “And I want you to leave.”
“Ruby Heartson doesn’t exist,” the woman says. She has dark hair that’s being blown around in the warm breeze that always funnels along the lane that leads to the house. She pulls it out of her face and opens a folder. “I have here a copy of your father’s will. When he was presumed dead, it naturally came into effect. You were the sole beneficiary, with the money held in trust until your eighteenth birthday. There are two signatories to that trust. One was your father’s solicitor, the other your uncle. Elijah Heartson. I believe the two men conspired together to—”
I laugh. “Conspired? You’re mad! Absolutely mad!”
“Conspired together,” she continues, unperturbed, “to steal that money and keep it for themselves.”
I shake my head. “Do you know how insane that sounds? Uncle Eli just told me that I have over two million dollars waiting for me. If he wanted to steal it, he hasn’t been very successful!”