Page 110 of Wicked Union

It was nearly impossible not to laugh, but I somehow managed.

Cole covered his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter, shaking his head. “Fucking Fitzy,” he whispered. “That old bastard.”

Most of the people in the room gasped. In a room full of classy people, no one dared to laugh at my grandfather’s final fuck you to Carl Wellington.

Next, Arlo Salvatore inherited shares in Atlantic Airlines, the company Bastian and Damian owned. I wasn’t sure how much the shares were worth, and Arlo’s face gave nothing away.

“To Damian Salvatore, I leave you the contents of my basement,” Mr. Bollinger said with a curious expression.

Damian ripped open his letter, his pale cheeks flushed with heat, and then handed the note to Bastian. I knew what was in the basement and cringed. Shackles he used to chain us to the wall. The cage he put me inside when he didn’t feel like wasting his time fastening my ankles to the cold floor.

“To my grandson, Bastian Salvatore,” Mr. Bollinger continued, “I leave my home in Sagaponack and its contents.”

Bastian scowled at his letter. After Carl got a vibrator and Bastian and Damian looked enraged, I wondered what was inside my envelope.

“To my granddaughter, Grace Hale,” Mr. Bollinger announced, and my heart sped abnormally. “I leave the rest of my estate.”

I raised my hand. “Excuse me?”

Bastian turned in his chair and glanced over his shoulder at me. And then I realized everyone was staring at me. With so many gazes on me, my skin heated under their careful inspection.

I was the worst dressed in the room. Where everyone wore suits and dresses, I opted for a pair of spandex shorts, a tank top, and sandals. We’d come from the beach, and I didn’t think this would be formal.

Besides, I was pregnant, and my clothes no longer fit well. Cole must have knocked me up the first time we didn’t use a condom or right afterward because I was almost four months along.

“Yes?” Mr. Bollinger said.

“Exactly how much money is the rest of his estate?” I asked, my voice shaking from all the nerves coursing through my body.

Mr. Bollinger looked down at the podium and flipped through papers. “Including Mr. Adams’ real estate, cars, jewelry, stock, bank accounts, and miscellaneous possessions.” He looked up at me. “Approximately two hundred and fifty-seven billion dollars.”

“No.” I shook my head in disbelief. “That’s too much money. He didn’t even like me. And I don’t want it.”

“Grace.” Bastian raised his hand to gain my attention. “You deserve it. Take the money.”

Meeting Bastian’s gaze, I nodded.

My cousin turned around and dipped his head down to kiss the baby’s head. Alex smiled and rubbed her thumb across his cheek. They looked so in love. And when she looked at each of his brothers, I could see how much she loved them.

Cole hooked his arm around me and whispered, “You deserve this money, Grace. It’s your birthright as an Adams.”

“But I don’t need billions of dollars.”

“Of all the people in this room, you’re the one who wants the money least. Greed and power motivate us, but not you. After everything Fitzy put you through, you deserve it.”

A grin tugged at my mouth. “I’m rich.”

He nodded, his expression mirroring mine. “You’re wealthy. There’s a difference.”

“I have to do good with this money.”

Cole raised my hand to his mouth and kissed my skin. “This is why I love you, Grace. You always want to do the right thing.”

Mr. Bollinger stayed at the front of the room in case we had questions for him. I had tons, but I wasn’t even sure where to begin. And then I remembered the letter I nearly crushed in my palm from clenching my fist.

I slid my finger beneath the fold and pulled out the thick notecard that saidFrom the Desk of Fitzgerald Archibald Adams IVat the top in fancy script.

I hope the Adams curse finds you, too.

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