Page 61 of Sweet Venom

I should have known that's what this visit was about. We haven't spoken since the day I forfeited my inheritance, and if I had to guess, that's why she's here now. She must have just received the memo that I'm washing my hands of the Fiori fortune and all the ugly that comes with it.

"If you are here to get me to change my mind regarding my inheritance, you're wasting your time. It's done. I signed it all over."

She folds her hands in her lap just as the car comes to a stop outside her hotel. I don't make a move to get out. I assumed she followed me to ensure I was okay, and a shared car ride accomplished that, but no.

"Get out of the car, Vivian. You'll be staying with me tonight." Great.

* * *

"Rise and shine." Indie throws open the black-out curtains that were allowing me to block out the day I know I'm wasting away. The truth is, I've been up for the last hour, but I've been dreading a conversation with my grandmother. I have enough on my plate with the three men currently clawing at my heart, without whatever nonsense brought her to my doorstep. If I had to guess, it's related to my father, and honestly, I'm surprised it took her this long to piece together what I did.

"I've had clothes brought up; they'll be placed on your bed as soon as you shower and clean yourself up."

Sitting up, I rub my eyes as they adjust to the sun now streaming through the windows. "What time is it?"

"It's noon," she says pointedly before adding, "I've ordered lunch. Please make yourself presentable and meet me in the dining room in twenty minutes. It's time we talked."

Tearing the covers off with a groan, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and stare down at the floor. I feel completely drained. Yesterday was a complete mind fuck all around. While I'm not happy to be here with my grandmother, I'm glad to be away from my men. I needed to clear my head and listen to my heart. Indie was right. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into with all of these men, and she was right when she said I was looking for love to hurt. Hurt is what I know; hurt is what I'm good at, but I've been patient. I've endured. And now, 'someday' has finally arrived, and that pain that threatened to consume me has become useful. It is because I've suffered that I know what love is. The ones who hurt us the most are often those we love the most. Because of them, and the unyielding ache in my heart, I know what we share is love.

I'm freshly showered when I finally examine the stack of clothes my grandmother ordered from the boutique across the street. When I lift the bra and panty set up, I'm relieved to find jeans and a blouse. I don't have it in me to dress up, but her choice in my attire is somewhat foretelling. This may be a goodbye visit, since she's not worried about my appearance. If she planned on being seen with me today, I'm sure this would be a dress. When your name is synonymous with a high-end fashion brand, you must always be on your game to keep up appearances. You're a walking billboard. You are the brand. My lungs deflate as a wave of relief settles upon me. This is no longer my cross to bear. I'm free. The scars of my past tell a story, but they don't define my future. I do, and it's not Fiori.

The table is filled with more food than two people can possibly eat when I reach the dining room. Mini sandwiches, salads, soup, and desserts. My stomach growls loudly as all the aromas assault my senses. I'm fucking starving. I don't bother with pleasantries; this is goodbye anyway. Fuck it. I grab a plate, load it up with five ham and cheese sandwiches, and grab a bowl of what looks like some sort of cheesy soup for dipping. My ass hasn't even fully sat on the chair before my lips are wrapped around an impossibly huge bite of ham and cheese. "Mmm," I hum as I get my next bite ready to dip. My grandmother notices that I haven't even swallowed my first bite when I bring up the next.

"Please, eat. I have no problems waiting until you're through."

My chewing slows as I fight my intense desire to roll my eyes. While we may not have the best relationship, I respect my elders, and honestly, any resentment I have toward her is my own. There's a difference between cruel and cold. She was the latter. I reach for a glass of water to wash down the enormous bite in my mouth. I don't wish to delay the inevitable.

"I assume you're here because you discovered I walked away from my inheritance."

Her eyes hold mine and slightly narrow as she studies me, looking for what; I can't tell. The woman wears a mask of indifference at all times. Finally, she drops her eyes to find her tea and says, "Among other things, but since you brought it up, let's start there."

Rather than let her recant what she thinks she knows, I cut her to the chase and start. "Look, Grandmother, I want nothing to do with my father's money. I took it selfishly out of spite, thinking it would make me feel better knowing he hated that I had it, but the longer I had it, the more it made me like him. It's part of him, and I don't want it."

I watch her purse her lips, clearly unhappy with my desire to wash my hands of the Fiori name. Then, setting down her tea, she says, "Well, that's one way of looking at it, but your father did not amass the fortune built on the back of the Fiori name. He was simply born into it. Our wealth started generations before he was born, and your Grandfather and I turned it into the brand it is today. So, you see, you could look at it like it's his, but it's not. It's mine."

I've never thought of it that way, but it doesn't change anything. "Either way, it's done. I forfeited my rights and handed it back."

She tops off her cup of tea and sets the pot back on the table before saying, "That's where you are wrong. You don't get to walk away from your birthright. Your Grandfather ensured it."

This time, I don't bother swallowing before responding with a mouthful of ham and cheese in my mouth. "What are you talking about? I signed the documents. I witnessed my parents celebrate my exit on Julian's desk—"

She scowls and cuts me off. " Vivian, stop. I know what your father did. I'm very disappointed in the choices my son made. His selfishness, greed, and envy were more than deplorable. It was wickedly cruel. I understand why you cut your parents out of your life, but this is not something you can wash your hands of. The second your father got word that you had inquired about drawing up a disclaimer, he had his lawyers start the paperwork to contest your portion, and while he's smart when it comes to money, and has lawyers on payroll, I'm smarter, and mine are better. He was so eager to cut you out and take what was rightfully yours that he failed to realize that he forfeited his own the second he tried to come after your shares."

She drinks her tea like the news she just laid on me was no big deal. If I thought my father despised me before, I know he more than loathes me now.

"You see, your Grandfather put a strict no-contest clause in his will that stated anyone who so much as tried to challenge validity or fairness would automatically lose their own. The only way around the clause was death, and you, my dear, are very much alive."

My eyes widen on that lost note. Great. I'm not sure I believe my father to be a murderer, but he already loathed my existence because it threatened what was his; what I don't understand is, why now? "Why are you telling me all of this now? You've clearly known this information for months."

"I wanted to see what he would do. I wanted to see if being stripped of such vast wealth would change anything. Even without his inheritance, your father was still a wealthy man. He had his investments and his salary from sitting on the board. I knew he'd be enraged at first, but I was hopeful time might change things. I was also very aware of what happened between him and your mother when you showed up to forfeit your rights. A small part of me hoped that a reckoning would occur with their reunion. For the first week, he was completely unhinged. I had security detail assigned to monitor him around the clock to ensure he wouldn't be a threat to you."

When she pauses, I see the smallest of cracks in her armor. Her eyes drop again to her tea, but the slight tremble in her fingers tells me something is wrong. Indie Fiori is ruthless. Nothing rattles her. That perceived unease sets off alarm bells and has me asking, "So, that's why you're here now? You believe he will come after me, and I need a security detail."

Her dark brown stormy eyes find mine, and she says, "No, you have nothing to fear. Not anymore. Julian Fiori is dead."

"Come again?" After everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, I feel like I'm walking a fine line between sanity and psychosis. There is no way those words are real.

I'm rubbing my temples, trying to digest the enormity of everything she just said, when she adds, "Your father is dead. Your mother killed him right before she took her own life."

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