Page 53 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set
“Yes, but since you and Miles have had nothing to do with your father’s business, it won’t affect either of you.”
“Hey”—Chance rises, his gaze landing on Shankle—“I knew—know—nothing about my father’s other holdings. He shared nothing with me. Nothing.”
“And you never asked?” Shankle says.
“The few times I did, he told me to mind my own fucking business. I’m a rancher. That’s it. I had nothing to do with anything else.”
“It’ll be a harder sell since you lived and worked beside him.” Shankle adjusts his bolo. “But we can probably prove you knew nothing.”
I regard my youngest half brother. His fair complexion has gone even paler. He’s scared, and pissed based on the way his jaw is clenched. For good reason. Chance has been a pain in my ass, but the man’s not a criminal.
“That’ll keep you out of the slammer,” Shankle continues, “but that’s not the only criminal penalty you might get. There are hefty fines. Plus you three will be ordered to clean up your mess.”
“Our mess?” This time I stand. “We didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“No, but your father did, and someone has to take responsibility in civil court. You’re his heirs.”
Right. The billion fucking heirs.
“For fuck’s sake.” I shake my head.
“Look, nothing’s been proven yet, but they clearly have evidence, otherwise they wouldn’t be threatening to freeze the assets.”
“Something is off about this.” Chance stands and paces behind the oversized leather couch. “My father may have been a first-class bastard, but he wasn’t stupid. If he had a fail-safe in place, he would have made arrangements for an untimely demise.”
“Yeah, he had enough time to create his ironclad will that’s got me sitting here instead of getting bagels at a shop on Fifty-Eighth Street,” Miles says.
“Would he have though?” I ask. “He died suddenly, right? Of an aneurysm?”
Shankle nods. “Yeah, and it was unexpected. Chance can tell you that Jonathan was lean and mean. The chance of an aneurysm, even at his age of fifty-eight, was slim to none, especially with no family history.”
“So where is this investigation coming from?” I demand. “Some whistleblower he paid to keep quiet?”
“Give the boy a silver dollar.” Shankle smiles.
If he calls me boy one more time…
But I’ve got worse shit to deal with.
“Fine, he freezes the assets,” Miles says. “Austin and I aren’t expecting a dime until next summer. But how the hell do we run this business—the ranch—if we can’t get at any money?”
“There’s overhead, Shankle,” Chance says. “Payroll. Running a ranch of this size isn’t cheap. Hell, you’re not sitting here for free, I’m sure.”
“I’ve got the top environmental partner at my firm looking into this,” Shankle replies, skimming over the fact that he’s probably clearing a pretty penny due to this new development. “Plus a guy with white-collar criminal experience. With my financial savvy, we can probably get the Feds to agree to keep funding available for day-to-day business operations of the ranch. Plus, nothing has happened yet.”
Yet. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t think yet might be coming soon.
“This is fucked.” I sit back down on the couch and turn to Miles. “You and I may as well go home. So much for our billions.”
“If you leave, you forfeit everything,” Shankle reminds us. “Nothing has been proven yet.”
“Except that Jonathan Bridger is officially an asshole,” I say.
“Truth, but Jesus Fucking Christ,” Miles mutters. “This is a mess.”
“Did you know anything about this, Shankle?” I demand.
He shakes his head. “I’m Bridger’s estate attorney and his general counsel with regard to the ranch. Once the year is up and you’ve met the requirements of the will, my service to your father is done. Regardless, I have nothing to do with his outside holdings, nor do I know who handles them. If the DOJ is involved, it’s got to be expansive.”
