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“It’s all right here, her dying wish. Signed her name at the very bottom,” he notes, tapping where I assume her signature is.
Not that he doubts Eli but Abram leans over his shoulder, plucking the paper out, and does his own scan. Moments pass and then he has the same—if not more—dismayed expression.
Gravity, is that still a thing? Because I’m almost positive mine is tilting right now.
“Impossible,” Silas roars, finding the strength even after all the damage caused by his son. “Let me see,” he demands, unconvinced in his skepticism for it to be true.
I’d had the same thought, although I would never admit it.
Allof Hardin. That’s what Eli had said.
I lick my lips, them too dry.
All of it?
“Camellia and I have a joint will set in place. There’s no way this one is binding,” Silas rasps. A dark-red ooze sweeps over his teeth the more words he manages to spit out.
“I, Camellia Viviana Scarlet Kellet, being of sound mind and memory, hereby make, publish, and declare, this to be my last will and testament, thereby revoking null and void any other last wills or testaments,” Sarah says, reading it word for word beside Abram.
She makes sure to put extra emphasis on the “void to any other wills or testaments” part.
That twisted face of satisfaction shines brighter the more she continues to review it aloud.
“I direct that as soon as practical after my death and once of legal age, the sole beneficiary of all assets attributed and disclosed to the Kellets’ portion of the Hardin holdings be given to and allotted to the person who holds the charm with the navigation to the light on a darkened path.”
“All shares, dwellings private or public, and investments forthcoming will belong to this single party as it is indebted in my wish of dying that the evidence of the current holder of the Kellet name be reduced to value by equal amounts of debt I had received in my time of life.”
“Easily fought in court,” Silas asserts.
Sarah lifts a brow, reading ahead anyway. “It is my dying wish that whomever I have trusted with this gift, that although small in size, the burden of its value outweighs the rooted need for change.”
“Not possible,” Silas interjects yet again. Somehow finding the strength to yell even as he stays stuck to the ground like a carcass of nothing.
“It’s. Right.Here,” Eli enunciates, futile. “Rory owns everything.”
I hug my stomach, staring at nothing. There are those words again.
“She did this on purpose,” Cole rushes out. “…She killed herself because she knew it was the only way.”
He swallows, but it’s rough. Same as the steps he’s taking backward. He falters but recovers in the same beat.
That’s all he can seem to manage right now, gulping and backpedaling. I’m trying to figure out what he means but his eyes are all over. On everyone and no one.
He’s feverish. Strands of his onyx-colored hair tumble over his forehead before he sweeps them back.
“There are only two ways to earn access to Hardin. You must be a direct descendant, or…” Cole starts and then stalls not answering the last part of his own statement right away. He’s standing here but his voice sounds so far away.
When those blues connect with mine, my entire body hums.
What’s the other way, Iceman?
Those eyes of his are as raw as his voice is rough when he says, “Death. That’s the only other way a request for transfer can be made.” He grabs at his mouth, huffing out a deep chuckle. “Only someone with the correct last name can make the appeal.”
Something unfurls in my stomach. That buzzing is back but I ignore it.
Is he saying what I think he is?
Upon her death, Camellia took it upon herself to transfer the shares. Only she didn’t transfer them to who she should’ve.
