Page 4 of Tainted Empire (Sins of Our Father)

“Okay, what are they?”

He adjusts his glasses and scoots closer to his desk, typing things into his computer once he turns the monitor back to face him.

“Well, first, you can meet with his lawyer that signed the will and see if your father left anything behind with him. Any more documents or instructions. He will probably have more information regarding the logistics,” he says and I start to get overwhelmed again.

“What’s my second option?” I ask, my voice sounding shaky.

“You can meet with him and also discuss the option of selling the business,” he says, and I frown.

“Who would I sell it to? I know nothing about this,” I say, and he gives me a large smile.

“Ms. Bailey, this is nearly a billion-dollar business. Your father was a very successful man, as I’m sure you know. Many people would jump for the opportunity to buy out Bailey Ranch & Co as soon as it’s listed. I know I personally would make you a luxurious offer,” he says with a smile, and for some reason, I feel defensive.

Even if my father trusted this man with his accounts and holding this will, I don’t know him. I don’t trust any bank and any stranger with my father’s livelihood. I need to talk to someone else.

“Mr. Jones, I appreciate that and all of your help. May I please have the name and information of the lawyer that signed my father’s will?” I ask, and he gives it to me.

I fold the paper up and place it in my bag, standing and turning to walk out of his office.

“Ms. Bailey, wait! About the offer-” he says, but I wave him off as I near the door.

“We’ll talk another time, Albert. Thank you so much for your help,” I say and rush out of his office and into the elevator.

I’m not talking numbers with a buyer while I have no knowledge of what’s to come. I pull out the card and look at the lawyer’s information.

Michael Moore, Attorneyit reads and I sigh as the elevator doors open. I hold the folded card in my hand as I walk out of the bank and into the gloomy Seattle weather, hailing the first taxi that I see.

“I need you to take me to this address, please,” I say, holding the business card in the driver’s face as he nods and pulls away.

I stare out the window and watch as the buildings pass me by. I love this city and love watching it, but right now it’s hard to see with the veil of tears blurring my vision.

I will not cry. I will not cry.

I repeat this over and over in my head like a mantra. I must stay strong and deal with this, no matter how overwhelming this might be.

My father was a smart man, but surely he was smart enough to not leave his entire business to his daughter. I appreciate the gesture, but he and I both know I would run this business into the ground due to my lack of ranch knowledge. He must be smarter than that. He had to be.

He knew of my dreams. Of where I wanted to thrive. He knew I wanted to travel the world once I got my degree. He knew when I was done that I wanted to move to Portland and teach English at the college there. He knew I wanted to be by the ocean. Why would he leave me with the ranch in Montana? Sure, it’s beautiful and feels like home, but it is not the home I wanted for my future. This is not the future I told him that I wanted. Why wouldn’t he fucking ask me first?

The taxi comes to a stop, and I stare at the lawyer’s office before me and sigh, blinking back the tears that I refused to let fall. I hand the driver cash and grab my satchel and hop out, staring at the small building before me that not only holds my answers, but also my fate.

4

I’m sittingin Michael Moore’s office, waiting for him to get out of his meeting. His secretary was super helpful and apparently knew my father well and told Michael that I was waiting for him. The sound of my nervous foot tapping against his hardwood floor echoes throughout the office and is interrupted when his door suddenly opens.

He walks in, a middle-aged man with dark hair in a casual suit. His demeanor is also casual, which I assume is unlikely for a lawyer who deals with rich clients. I expected him to be more intimidating, more powerful, but he’s as cool as a cucumber when he sits down at his desk in front of me.

“Ms. Bailey, I am sorry to hear about your father,” he says, while looking through files, no sympathy laced in his voice whatsoever, which actually comforts me.

I’ve spent an entire month dealing with apologies and sympathetic glances, so hearing his tone of voice is a breath of fresh air.

“Thank you for meeting with me today, Mr. Moore,” I say and he looks up and gives me a small smile.

“Mr. Moore was my father, please, call me Michael,” he says and I smile.

“I’ve looked over your father’s will and documents and hear that you have some questions about its details,” he says, while typing on his computer.

“Yes, um…I’m just a little bit confused about why my father left everything in my name. Surely there was a mistake. My father knew that I had absolutely no idea of how to run his business, so there must be another person in that will with regards to his ranch’s fate,” I say, and he looks up at me with a raised eyebrow.

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