Page 62 of The Right Kind of Wrong

Without a further word, she walked out. I swallowed.

Deborah shook her head. “Goes to show money doesn't buy you class.”

“I should go change.” I sighed, realizing that my parents wouldn't approve of my grief-stricken choice of clothes. Sweatpants and a tank top, my hair up in a bun and my face make up free. I wouldn't be up to par.

We heard the front door open then. It was too late. My parents appeared, always well done, but their faces held a disappointed frown.

“Good afternoon,” they said to the Maxwells. “Evelyn, come with us, please.”

I did as I was told, not sparing them a single glance.

Hannah was on the phone when I entered without bothering to knock just to spite her. She glared at me as she ended the call, my parents taking a seat across from her while I chose to remain standing with my arms crossed over my chest.

“What is this about?” I asked, not hiding my impatience.

My mom shot my father a look and then looked at Hannah as if trying to figure out who would dare tell me. In the end, it was she who ended up speaking.

“We still haven't received news on your Nana's will.”

“She was buried not even three days ago, Mom,” I said, shaking my head.

“There are things to take care of, Evelyn.”

Shrugging, I replied, “What does this have to do with me?”

“We thought maybe you knew something since you were close to her.”

I shook my head, pressing my lips together. My mom sighed and my sister took the opportunity to speak.

“Also, we're aware that it's likely she may have left her part of the company to you and we'd like to discuss that.”

I frowned. Nana knew I had no interest in that mess of a company.

“If that's the case, we were hoping you'd hand over your part to your sister since she's the one who's been pushing the company forward,” my dad said.

I scoffed.

Of course.

“You are all so desperate to see what Nana left,” I said in disbelief. “Let's get one thing clear, my dear family. Whatever she decided will be respected, whether it be her leaving those things to you or the mailman. If not, I swear to God I will go down fighting for her wishes to be respected.”

My mother's eyes widened. “Is that a threat, Evelyn?”

“A threat. A warning. Call it what you want.”

“We're your family you—”

The word family struck a chord. They weren't. We were practically strangers.

“You are nothing to me,” I hissed. “Not anymore.”

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