Page 99 of Brutal Kingdom

“What you planned and hoped has nothing to do with the truth. You’re a distant cousin and if I didn’t exist, then it would fall to you. It’s not my fault you didn’t do your homework.”

“I did my homework. You were…”

“I was, what?”

“You weren’t listed in any of the family records. The ancestor you’re claiming to be related to doesn’t exist either.”

I watch as she smooths her hand across her hair. “If I’m making all this up, then why are you so nervous?”

She squares her shoulders, glaring at me. “I’m not nervous, you stupid bitch. I’m pissed I have to defend what’s mine from con artists like you, and I’m sick and tired of you getting in my way.” Stepping closer, she snarls, “This school is mine, the fundraiser is mine, and Bartholemew Summer’s inheritance, is mine.”

“The first two, you can keep. The third thing, well, that’s up to the court to decide, and I’ve got a bunch of evidence I think will help them decide in my favor.”

Her temperament changes, a sinister sneer blooms on her lips. “That’s assuming you even make it to court. How’s your driving coming along?”

I’m not quite over the trauma from my last lesson, and just as I lunge for her, a set of arms grab me, pulling me back. I struggle until I’m placed gently on my feet, behind a muscle bound bodyguard. These fuckers are huge, but quiet. I never heard them coming up behind me. Guess that’s part of what makes them so good at their jobs. I glare at the guard until he steps out of my way, then I move to stand next to Graham, who’s staring at Bella when he says, “Jordanna, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your friend.”

“We’re not friends.” Bella says, the tone of her voice letting everyone know just how much she despises me.

Gram infuses a certain note into his tone. “That’s too bad. Because if you’re not Jordanna’s friend, that makes you an enemy. And I have a special way of dealing with those.”

Bella’s face pales, and she doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what that special way, is.

My conversation with Bella didn’t buy me any time. Last weekend, dad and I got as far as reading the first three pages of the contract that says she and I agree to stay married for a minimum of twenty years. If I file for divorce before then, she’s entitled to half of all my assets, no matter when they were earned. I crossed that shit out and put five years and ten percent of assets earned during the course of the marriage. A number I still think is too much, but dad said it’s standard to start at ten and end somewhere around fifteen or twenty.

I hate that I have to participate in this sham until I find something I can use to make Bella back out of it. That’s the only way to keep the board on our side. Dad’s business trip was postponed, and he’s ordered me home for a family dinner with the Lance’s. He’s hoping we can cut through a lot of the back and forth by sitting across the table from them and hashing things out over lamb chops, and a bottle of vino.

The further we get into this document, the harder it’ll be to find a way out. The Lance’s were thorough on their end. Bella must’ve told her dad’s lawyers to make sure there were no weaknesses in it I could exploit.

Today’s topic makes my stomach heave. Kids. How many and when to have them. I bury my heart underground, lock it behind an iron gate and build a brick wall over it before walking into the dining room. They’re laughing at something and the look on Bella’s face makes me think dad just gave a concession I’m gonna hate.

“Sorry I’m late. Had a last-minute rewrite, for the paper I had to get sorted.”

Dad nods. He’s used that same excuse on me more times than I count. “Did I miss anything important?” I ask as I take my seat.

Dad shakes his head and smiles at Mr. Lance. “No. Of course not. We finally got some traction on clause seven.”

“Seven?” That’s the one regarding charitable giving and investments. I look at Bella, the pit viper, whose very presence is squeezing the metaphorical life out of me. “And what are we changing about that? The cap on the dollar amount?”

“Not at all.” Dad beams at her. Like really smiles, as if impressed with whatever bullshit she came up with. “Those limits still stand. Bella would like to start a charity within the first year of your marriage.”

The current iteration of that clause says we wait three years after marriage to start a charity, and it’s a joint venture with both of us donating from our individual trust funds. Now why is the most selfish woman I’ve ever met looking to change that?

Johnathan sees the look on my face and tries to explain. “We know it’s supposed to be the third year, but my girl really has a heart for giving.”

Yeah, a heart for giving grief and drama. “If Bella wants to start an individual charity with her trust fund, that’s fine. We’ll go through options when we get closer to the deadline to start our joint one.”

He shovels lettuce in his mouth and waves his knife around. “I told your dad you’d see it that way. I knew you’d be reasonable.”

“That’s me. All about reason and compromise.”

My dad chimes in. “You’re also all about fairness and equality, which is why I told him there’s no way we could let Bella start a charity without donating ourselves. It wouldn’t be right, especially since I think she’s picked a worthwhile project.”

What is it? Botox and new purses for all her friends? But dad’s right. I’m all for equal measures and I’ll be damned if I let Bella hang this over my head. I’m happy to crank out some money to maintain the upper hand. “Of course. Dad.” I sip my water and spear a piece of shrimp cocktail with my salad fork. “Tell me about this charity, Bella?”

“Yes, honey.” Johnathan, encourages. “Tell him all about it.”

Bella shakes her head, demurring. “We can discuss the details later, daddy, we’re here to move onto clause ten.”

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