Page 79 of Never Been Gargoyled
She left us standing in the doorway, the envelope heavy in my hands.
“DNA results,” I said numbly. “She truly is Helga's daughter.”
“We knew that was likely.”
“But knowing and having scientific proof are different things.” I slumped against the doorframe. “A judge is going to look at this and see a biological daughter being denied her inheritance by a distant relative. How do we fight that?”
“We find out why Helga made the choice she did. There has to be a reason.”
I wanted to believe him, but everything felt like it was slipping away from me. The estate, the botanical garden I'd dreamed of creating, the life Feydin and I were building together.
“What if we can't find a reason? The will could be wrong. She may have meant to leave everything to her daughter.”
Feydin's hands settled on my shoulders. “Do you believe that?”
“I don't know what to believe anymore.”
“Then believe in us. Believe that we'll figure this out together.”
I looked up at him, at the fierce determination in his gray eyes, and felt some of my despair ease. Whatever happened, I wasn't facing it alone.
But as I stared at the injunction in my hands, I couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out.
All the love in the world might not be enough to save the home we'd built here with each other.
Chapter 28
Feydin
The injunction felt like a death sentence as I watched Dazy slump against the doorframe. Her shoulders curved inward, and she stared at the official papers with the same expression I'd seen on wounded animals. Still breathing, but defeated.
“We find out why Helga made the choice she did,” I'd said, but even as the words left my mouth, panic clawed at my chest. Two weeks until the court hearing. Two weeks to find evidence that might not exist.
Two weeks before we might lose all we’d built here.
Dazy moved through the rest of the day like she was walking underwater. She'd start to reach for a gardening tool, then remember the injunction and pull her hand back. She'd glance toward the flower beds we'd been working on, then look away quickly, as if the sight pained her.
I followed her around the estate like a lost pup, desperate to offer comfort but unsure how. When she satheavily on the front steps and put her head in her hands, I lowered myself beside her and wrapped my wing around her back.
“I keep thinking about all the things I wanted to do,” she said without looking up. “The herb garden by the kitchen. A pond with water lilies. Walking paths through the woods.”
“You still might?—”
“No.” Her voice was flat. “I won't. Rebecca's going to win, and I'll have to leave, and all those dreams will disappear.”
The hopelessness in her tone made my wings twitch. This was wrong. My mate shouldn't sound like this, shouldn't look so small and helpless. But what could I do? I was a gargoyle who'd been asleep for years, not a miracle worker.
That night, I lay awake staring at the cottage ceiling while Dazy slept fitfully beside me. She'd moved into the gatekeeper's cottage without discussion after dinner, as if she couldn't bear to spend another night in the main house knowing it might soon belong to someone else.
Every time she whimpered in her sleep, my chest tightened. I wanted to wake her, to pull her against me and promise her everything would be fine, but I couldn't make promises I might not be able to keep.
Instead, I slipped out of bed and returned to the main house.
If there were answers to be found, I'd track them down. I owed Dazy that much.
We'd already searched through filingcabinets, desk drawers, and the library. The basement, kitchen, dining room, and both parlors. But old houses like this one often had secrets. Hidden compartments, spaces where important things could be tucked away and forgotten.
I took the stairs and entered one of the spare bedrooms, carefully searching, even underneath the bed. Nothing. And nothing in the other spare bedroom
