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“Penelope Rhodes to see Mr. Kingston please.”
There’s a pause, then the speaker crackles a second before there’s a click, and the door lock disengages. Wrapping my fingers around the cool brass handle, I push the door open and step into the dark-wood-paneled hall, following the same route I took almost four years ago.
The last time I was here, I didn’t realize how monumental my visit would be, but this time I’m completely aware that the outcome of today’s meeting will change the trajectory of my future entirely. I’m scared but determined, and that’s what pushes me forward and into the small waiting room that houses an antique desk with a stern-faced man in round, horn-rimmed glasses sitting behind it.
“Miss Rhodes, do you have an appointment?” he asks brusquely.
“I don’t, but I’m confident Mr. Kingston will make time to talk with me once you let him know that I’m here,” I tell him, using the tone of voice my etiquette coach spent years forcing me to perfect. It’s the tone that says I’m better than you, richer than you, and more powerful than you. It’s the tone that gets a person whatever they want in life. It’s the tone my mother always uses, the tone she taught me to use, the tone I’ve never heard coming from my sister’s mouth, and the tone that will make sure this man doesn’t refuse me.
Just like I knew he would, he lifts the phone on his desk to his ear, presses a button, and then speaks quietly into the receiver. A moment later, he lowers the phone back into the cradle and stands. “Let me show you to Mr. Kingston’s office.”
“Thank you,” I say politely, and follow as he leads me out of the reception area and toward the offices.
The lawyer’s office is identical to how I remember it, and a horrible sense of déjà vu hits me. Nerves make my legs feel shaky, but I keep moving, wishing once again that I was in my normal clothes and not jeans and sneakers. But regardless of my inappropriate attire, I keep moving because this is the right thing to do. The only thing to do, and for the first time in my life, I need to grow a pair of balls and stop being such a coward.
It would be so easy to just do what my parents want me to do. I could marry Geoffrey, have a baby, graduate from college, and become a billionaire. I could become my mother, willing to do whatever it takes to get my hands on all that power. But now that I’ve seen a glimpse of what my life could look like if I were the one in charge of my own future, it’s impossible for me to go back to blind obedience.
The moment my father’s fist struck my twin sister’s face, the blinders I’d been wearing for nearly four years fell away, and I haven’t been able to mindlessly follow orders since. I’m no longer asleep. I’m startlingly, painfully awake, and I can clearly see the evil, soulless monsters we’ve become.
“Miss Rhodes, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Mr. Kingston says, stepping out from behind his desk the moment I enter the room.
“Hello, Mr. Kingston, thank you for making time to see me,” I say politely, shaking his hand when he offers it.
“Of course, Miss Rhodes, you’re welcome to speak with me whenever you need to. Are your parents meeting us too?”
“No, sir, what I want to talk to you about doesn’t concern my parents,” I say confidently.
“Of course. Please take a seat. Can I get you a drink, coffee, tea, soda?” he offers, circling back behind his desk and lowering himself into his huge leather library chair.
“I’m fine, thank you. I’d rather just get straight to business, if that’s okay?”
His laugh is condescending and indulgent, like I’m an amusing child, and I have to clench my teeth together to stop myself from calling him on his obnoxious behavior.
“Business,” he chuckles. “How official. Are your parents aware that you’ve come to see me today?”
Pressing my lips into a hard line, I stare at the lawyer through narrowed eyes. “As you may or may not be aware, I recently turned eighteen. I neither want nor need my parents to act as a chaperone in a meeting with a law firm who, as my great-grandfathers sole heir, works for me.”
To the lawyer’s credit, he straightens in his chair, his body language instantly becoming professional. “Of course, Miss Rhodes. My apologies, how can I be of help?”
My hand trembles slightly as I reach into my purse and pull out the envelope containing the doctor’s examination report. “Mr. Kingston, as I’m sure you’re aware, my great-grandfather’s will had a lot of clauses and stipulations that I was required to adhere to in order to inherit.”
“Yes,” he says, clearing his throat. “It was an unusual bequest, but those were Reginald’s wishes.”
“I understand,” I say patiently. “But I’m here to inform you that I am no longer in a position to inherit.”
Mr. Kingston’s eyebrows shoot up so quickly that it’s almost comical. “I see,” he says, clearing his throat again.
“Here is a letter confirming my ineligibility,” I say, placing the envelope on the desk and pushing it toward him. The lawyer looks at the envelope like it’s going to jump up and bite him, but eventually he pulls it the rest of the distance toward him, removes the letter, and reads it.
Folding my hands together in my lap, I wait silently as he reads the paperwork that confirms I’m no longer a virgin. The idea that I’m having to prove something that should be personal and confidential to a complete stranger is mortifying, but I refuse to show him how much this is affecting me. Instead of looking away, I keep my gaze fixed firmly on him, watching him while he reads and then rereads the letter.
Eventually, he clears his throat yet again, twitches uncomfortably, and frowns before he sighs and lifts his gaze from the paper and up to me. “Miss Rhodes, are you sure—” he begins.
“Mr. Kingston,” I say, interrupting him. “My great-grandfather’s will is the most toxic thing that has ever happened to my family. I’m not entirely sure what his hope was when he wrote it, but I can confidently say that it hasn’t done what he intended it to. His stipulations and the rules he insisted I abide by haven’t made me an honorable person of upstanding moral fortitude like he assumed they would. In fact, all that his many rules have done is given me and my parents an excuse to justify our reprehensible and quite honestly, at times, appalling behavior by pretending it was in line with his wishes and in pursuit of this inheritance.”
The older man’s eyes widen, but I keep speaking, needing him to understand, at least a little, why I’m here.
“If there was the option for me to be able to choose to walk away from this money, I’d take it in a heartbeat. But my great-grandfather didn’t want me to be able to choose, he wanted to choose for me, and his will has forced me into a position where I’m tied to the life he wants me to live until I’m twenty-five. I’m confident when I say that if I continue to live for the next seven years the way I have been for the last four, there will be nothing redeemable about me left. I’ve already become a monster chasing this money, I truly dread to imagine what I’d find myself willing to do if I’m forced to live this life any longer. I want to break this will. I want to be free to try to put my life back together again in some semblance of a way where I can live with myself, and I can’t do that until this money is as far away from me as physically possible. I assure you, Mr. Kingston, that letter is real, and I have more proof should I need it, but I’m hoping that I won’t. I’m hoping that you won’t let the value of his estate sway you, and you’ll find your own moral fortitude and help me.”
