Page 102 of The Paradise Problem

Charlie, bursting into tears, runs out of the tent. Kellan follows.

Liam sighs, wiping a hand over his mouth. “Well done, Dad.”

Ray’s jaw clenches, and he pulls a sharp breath in through his nose. “What’ll it be, Liam? The company and your inheritances, or your pride? I want you to think long and hard about what this could mean.”

All motion inside me stops. It’s the four-hundred-million-dollar question. I look around, wondering if anyone else caught his wording.

Inheritances.

But neither Jake nor Alex seems to have registered it. They simply watch Liam. So maybe they didn’t hear it? Is it possible they have no idea what Alex has done?

Just walk, I plead silently to Liam. Walk away from all of this. None of you need that money. And frankly, none of them deserve it.

With a sigh, Liam looks over at me. But before he can speak, Jake steps forward. “He’s married, Dad. That’s the rule. And look at them. No one can tell me they’re not in love.”

Alex shakes his head. “Maybe they’re just fucking.”

“Who’s fucking?” Blaire says, choosing this moment to return to the tent. Her timing really is impeccable.

Alex deflates, cupping his hand over his forehead. “Jesus Christ.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jake says. “They’re married. Legally. I was a witness. In three months, it will be five years and the balance of the trust will officially be secured.”

Ray snaps his fingers. “Peter? Want to weigh in?”

The stranger I’d forgotten about pushes off the bar, stepping forward and clearing his throat. He slides one hand into his pocket like he’s addressing a jury, and immediately I know he must be a lawyer.

“The clause in the will stipulates that the grandchildren are required to enter into a marriage based on mutual admiration, respect, love, and devotion,” Peter says. “Your grandfather put that stipulation in because he wanted to encourage happy, secure marriages, which in turn would ensure a happy, secure company. A marriage in name only goes against the very core of what he wanted, and in my legal opinion would void the fulfillment of your trust.” He looks over at Liam. “Your current affections could be argued in court, of course, but it would be very easy to prove that you and Ms. Green have not been cohabitating or, indeed, very familiar at all until recently.”

Liam’s looks over at me and I try to tell him with my eyes: Walk away. This isn’t only up to you. Your father has a choice here, too. He doesn’t have to screw his children out of money his father left them.

“So I’ll ask you again, son,” Ray says, lifting his chin to the side, toward Jake and Alex. “What’ll it be? You or them?”

At this, Jake frowns, something landing wrong to his ear, and I know for certain that he doesn’t understand the full scope of what’s at stake here.

I hate everything about this moment so much that not even Liam’s giant hands over my mouth could have kept me from losing it. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I seethe at Ray and try to not cower as the room turns to gape at me. “Seriously, is this a joke? Am I part of a documentary about how the proletariat reacts in the presence of insanely rich assholes?” I look over at Alex, who gapes at me. “Yes, and fuck you specifically, Alex, you enormous shitstain. I know what proletariat means, and I know what fork to use. I googled it before I got here, you dick.”

Jake barks out a laugh. “Damn, Alex, she’s—”

“Not now, Jakey,” Janet murmurs, and then looks at me, brows raised expectantly.

Expectantly… like she’d love to see me try to fix this. Me, a veritable stranger. Janet could end this in an instant but she never would.

What a coward.

Rage makes my blood sublimate into smoke, and I take a deep breath, turning to face the toxic patriarch. “Ray, you are without question the biggest asshole I have ever met in my life, and I used to work the overnight shift at the lost-baggage counter at LAX. You are a random dude, not a king. You treat people in your life like they are bargaining chips, trophies, or minions.” I gesture around the room. “These are your sons, not chess pieces. You treat Alex like he’s no more valuable than some dirt on your shoe and treat Liam like he’s a Lamborghini you can drive wherever you want. I don’t know how you treat Jake because I’m not sure you even notice him. Do you not see how horrifically poisonous you are? Or how much your children are hurting? How on earth do you sleep at night? Honestly, tell me.”

Blaire lifts a tipsy hand. “Two trazodone and a big glass of red wine works for me.”

Ray tilts his head at me. “Who the fuck are you to come here and talk to me like this?”

“I’m Anna Green. I’m a painter and a daughter and a former convenience store cashier and part-time waitress and I’m lucky to be married to your son. I don’t know what choice Liam is going to make, whether he’ll agree to your truly fucked-up terms or whether he’ll choose himself for the first time in his life, but I can tell you this: no matter what happens tonight, it’s only a matter of time before every single person in this room leaves you, and I think you know it.”

Thirty-One

ANNA

We find ourselves on a plane about two hours later, headed back to Singapore. Apparently, when he’s mad enough, Ray Weston can pull some very large, flight-capable strings, but I tell you what: if he thinks banishing us immediately will discourage me from future castigation, he’s sorely mistaken. I am delighted to be getting the hell away from that island and everyone still on it.

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