Page 2 of By His Vow

I guess we should be grateful really, that his car was parked when he suffered the heart attack that ended his life.

If he were driving, we could be in an even worse situation right now.

I glance around the room, unwilling to see most of what’s around me. I have mixed feelings about my parents’ house. Sure, I have some great childhood memories from this place, but they’re laced with the bad ones, too. And the bad taints everything.

And nothing puts me on edge more than being in this room.

As children—hell, even as adults—we were never allowed to step foot in this room unless our presence had been requested.

It was our father’s haven. A place he came to do…everything, I guess. Mostly things I don’t have any desire to think about.

Being summoned here was bad enough. But actually stepping over the threshold and facing him, was something else entirely.

It didn’t matter how bad my crime was. It could have been that I hadn’t tidied my bedroom, or that one time I got caught trying to cheat on a math test. I always left wishing I were someone else. That I lived somewhere else.

It didn’t matter how hard I tried, how well-behaved I usually was, or if I achieved something he should have been proud of.

It was never enough.

I always left having been reminded of my place in this house, in this family. And I always resented him that little bit more than the last time.

It’s almost 2:20 when Miles’s patience finally gets the better of him. “Can we get this started?” he snaps suddenly, pushing to his feet, his chair ominously rocking back on two legs behind him before he begins pacing.

I’ve seen my big brother in some interesting states over the years. Covered in chicken pox as a kid, tripping after his first high school party, tripping when he took a bad pill at college, and completely out of his depth but desperately trying to hide it as he took his position under our father at Warner Group LTD. But I have never seen him look as stressed or as lost as he does right now.

It’s just another reason why I’m not grieving in the way that’s expected of me.

I’m not sad. I’m angry. Fucking furious that our father could be this selfish to those he was meant to love. To those who depended on him.

With my anger rising and the red haze I’ve been drifting in and out of the past few days descending upon me, the last thing I need is to be forced to sit here waiting for nothing.

We already know what Dad’s will says. Nothing Richard can read will surprise us.

It’s been set in stone for years.

Mom is taken care of. Miles gets the company, And I…get the only thing he had that I deem valuable and can finally embark on the life I truly want.

I just want this rigmarole over.

“We will commence very shortly,” Richard says, trying to placate Miles.

Our lawyer looks at my brother with a soft, empathetic smile on his face as he watches him pace back and forth.

I can only imagine the number of clients he’s had to do this for. Each one must be hard, but after a lifetime of working together, I can’t help thinking that this is even more personal than most.

But as painful as it might be for him, I doubt that’s the reason he’s avoiding starting this reading.

He’s waiting for something.

As I wrack my brain for what the hold-up could be, the door beside me is thrown open.

Dressed in a smart suit, his hair styled to perfection, with his irritatingly square jaw and piercing green eyes, Michael’s eldest son—and heir to his empire—Kingston Callahan, strides into the room as if he belongs here.

“KC?” Miles questions with a deep frown marring his brow.

My hackles rise.

Sure, Kingston and Miles might have been best friends since they were in diapers, but that doesn’t give him any right to be at such a private moment for our family.

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