Page 72 of The Lost Heiress
What Saoirse didn’t seem to realize or appreciate was that all this had been equally hard on him—these were decisions he didn’t want to have to make. He took no joy in taking things away from her, in removing her from school and sequestering her at Cliffhaven, in participating in this vicious war between them, this tense, cross-country chess game that they had been engaged in for two years now. He hadn’t asked for any of this. If he had his way, he’d be Saoirse’s brother, plain and simple—nothing more, completely uncomplicated—perhaps someone she feltshe could turn to and confide in, instead of her jailkeeper whom she railed against.
“I need a drink,” Bass said. He got up and crossed Ransom’s study to the liquor cabinet, busied himself with pouring a glass of brandy, neat.
“I think we pushed her too hard,” Ransom said. “We should give her some time to cool off, and then I’ll talk to her, try to get her to come around.”
Bass took a long sip of his brandy as Ransom surveyed him from across the room. His relationship with Bass had always been easy, uncomplicated. They’d always been on the same side of things, seen things the same way, implicitly trusted one another. But ever since their heated argument on the tennis court a few weeks prior, things hadn’t been the same between them. There was a silent tension simmering beneath the surface, thin and taut, that they danced around, pretending it didn’t exist. Ransom wasn’t sure how to address it without giving ground that he wasn’t willing to give. Bass had questioned his judgment, scolded him like a child. He couldn’t let Bass think that he could control him, tell him what to do. He was a grown man, after all.
“Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way,” Bass said after a while. “Maybe there’s a simpler answer staring us right in the face.”
“Like what?” Ransom asked.
“We could, perhaps, simply not release her assets when she turns eighteen,” Bass said.
“How?”
“I don’t know, but there must be something—some sort of legal precedent we can lean into here,” Bass said. “After all, she’s a teenager, and this is a large sum of money at stake. She’s clearly not emotionally equipped to handle that responsibility.”
Ransom thought about this. The trust had converted into an irrevocable trust upon his parents’ death, and they hadn’t placed any contingencies on Saoirse’s inheritance other than age.
“The trust doesn’t give you that sort of discretion,” Ransom said. “Saoirse could file to have you removed as trustee. She could sue.”
“It would buy us some time at least,” Bass said. “Time for her to come around.”
“I don’t think she’ll ever come around if you do that,” Ransom said.
“Well, what if we had her declared incompetent?” Bass asked. “We could set up a conservatorship.”
“On what grounds?”
“I don’t know!” Bass said, slamming his glass down on the table. The amber liquid sloshed over the sides, onto the wood. “Christ,” Bass said. He put his head in his hands. “What was Charles thinking?”
There was only so much they could do. Ransom was slowly, reluctantly, coming to that realization. They were running out of options. They were running out of time.
“I’m at my wit’s end, trying to keep this family from throwing it all away,” Bass said. “Why won’t anyone listen to me? Why won’t anyone listen to reason?”
In that moment, Bass looked every bit his age standing there, leaning over the liquor cabinet for support. Crumpled. Wilted. Old.
Ransom crossed the room to him, put his hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure something out,” Ransom said. “She’ll come around.”
He said it even though he didn’t fully believe it, that Saoirse would change her mind, listen to reason. He was beginning to think she would never come around. And what option did that leave them then?
“I had one of my guys look into Ana,” Bass said.
It took Ransom a moment to process Bass’s words. “What?” he said.
“I had a bad feeling about her, Ransom, and I couldn’t let it go.”
Ransom dropped his hand from Bass’s shoulder. “I thought I made my sentiments on that matter perfectly clear,” Ransom said.
Bass turned around to face him. He looked like he’d regained some of his strength, some of his composure. “You did,” Bass said. “But I knew I’d have no peace of mind until I’d at least done my due diligence.”
“So you deliberately went against my wishes?”
“Just hear me out—”
“No,” Ransom said. “No, I will not.”
“Are you as foolish and obstinate as your sister?” Bass asked, exasperated. “What hold has this girl got on you that you will not listen to reason? The Ransom I knew cared about the facts. And this is what I have to tell you, Ransom. This is what I’m bringing you: the facts.”
