Shattered Dynasty by Ava Harrison
4
Payton
Sucker punch.
That is what it feels like.
When my name rings through the air, it feels like someone punched me in the stomach.
I can barely breathe.
Shards of glass have broken off in my lungs.
Maybe I’m dead.
Yeah. That’s it.
I’m hallucinating . . .
Or maybe when I was walking to the lawyer’s building, I got hit by a car. I’m having an out-of-body experience, and none of this is real.
That would make more sense than what the lawyer just said.
Because there is no way he’s right.
It can’t be right.
No way did Ronald, aka Ronnie, aka the only man who has ever been a father figure to me . . . No way did he leave me his entire estate when he had a family.
As I struggle to breathe, taking deep inhales of oxygen, I remember I’m not the only person in this room.
Surrounding me is not just my sister, but his family, and as they glower at me, hate filling their eyes, I know this isn’t a dream.
My gaze pulls to where my sister sits. There is an odd look in her eyes.
One that says, although she is smiling, she’s anything but happy. I know her too well. I know she is pretending—putting on a good show, the actress she is—but her eyes are slightly narrowed, meaning she did not expect this, and she is about to snap.
I move closer to Erin, ready to calm her when she grabs my arm forcibly. Instead, her sharp nails grasp my skin. “What did you do?” she hisses, and here it comes.
I have become accustomed to her accusations.
What’ll it be this time? Cheating? Blackmail? Sex? I don’t know, but I do know my sister’s flair for the dramatic will rear its ugly head. When she’s hurting, she doesn’t know how to do anything but transmit it to others. Something I’m not looking forward to at all.
“I knew you were a slut. I should have dropped you off at Social Services.”
These are the words of someone lost. Someone beat down by the world and lashing out. I know this; it hurts. I clench every muscle inside me, forcing myself to exhale. I will not let her words hurt me. It’s time to stop letting her get to me. I tolerate her because of the past. What she did for me. Not just in raising me, but in truth, she saved me, but at some point, enough is enough. There is a line, and right now, she just crossed it.
I will deal with this later because Erin is the least of my problems right now. After the bomb that just went off in this office, I have bigger problems to deal with.
Namely, the blue-eyed stranger whose glower sends a chill running up my spine.
Pure venom.
He hates me.
It’s a weird feeling to see such hatred in someone’s eyes, especially when they don’t even know you.
I haven’t felt this way in a long time. Not since my life became more stable. He stares at me, and I refuse to break the contact. I won’t cower.
No matter how I feel at this moment, I won’t allow this man to see my feelings.
Sure, I’m shocked by what I just learned, but instead of showing it, I take my hands and dig my nails into my thighs to regulate myself.
Slowly, I take a deep inhale and pull my eyes away from him to look back at the lawyer, whose name I cannot wait to forget.
“What does this mean?” I ask.
“We still have a lot to discuss in regard to all of this. There were stipulations put in place before he died.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Trent barks. He’s not even trying to be civil.
If he could burn this place to the ground, I think he would.
“There’s a lot to go over.”
“Then you better get started because some of us have places to go. Like work. We are not all gold diggers.” He stands and begins to pace.
I shake my head and do my best not to pay attention. He has no idea who I am. He’s grasping at straws to intimidate me. Nothing this prick says is going to make me question who I am.
You can bring it, Trent, but I know who I am.
His eyes narrow on me as if he can hear my thoughts. A lump forms in my throat. My mouth dries, butterflies ping-ponging around in my stomach in full force. He leans against the wall, kicks one foot over the other, and stares me down as if he knows exactly what kind of effect he’s having on me.
I feel like I’ve just lost a game before it’s begun.
Congrats, Payton. You may know who you are, but your body needs a memo, a postcard, and a freaking billboard to learn it can’t react to him like this.
Mr. Baker slides the letter back into his folder, though it looks way longer than what he read. He must’ve memorized it. “Normally, we would have a lot of paperwork to do over this with the estate tax and death tax, etc., but this is different. The money has always been in Payton’s name. Ronald started this account years ago. It’s been accruing money and interest over the years.”
“What are you talking about?”
Finally, something comes out of my mouth. It flies out. Trent, whose eyes have never left mine, studies me harder. I refuse to wilt under the intensity of his gaze. I tip my chin up, hoping my message is delivered.
You don’t intimidate me.
He does.
You may hate me, but I’ve done nothing wrong. Not knowingly.
Doesn’t seem to matter.
Neither of us has a clue what’s going on.
Three seconds pass. I avert my eyes, redirecting them to Mr. Baker, whose only ability to elicit reactions from me comes from the will he just put away. How is it possible that all the money has been in my name this entire time? It makes no sense. Is that why my bills are always paid? Because technically, it has always been my money?
No. I would have known.
Wouldn’t I?
“Why would he do that?” I hear my sister say. Well, she mumbles it under her breath, but it’s not low enough for no one to hear it because then he speaks. The one whose full attention is still pinned on me, and there’s no hiding the storm of hatred brewing inside him. His voice sounds like he’s chewing on gravel.
“I know exactly why he did it. He put it in that little girl’s name, so we couldn’t touch it.”
Little girl.
He spits it out like I’m beneath him. If I were any less secure in myself, the words would claw at me. As it is, I find my fingers curling inward, nails pinching the sensitive flesh of my palms.
“But why not put it in my name?” Erin stands and whines.
“Because it’s obvious.” He moves away from the wall and into the middle of the room; his focus is now on her, and it’s lethal. So lethal, my shameless sister staggers back. On the other hand, Trent’s sister reaches out to stop him, but the man she’s with holds her back.
“You were just a whore,” Trent says as if he’s reading the weather. He circles her like a predator at the top of the food chain. “And if you think he gave a shit about either of you, you’re wrong. Whatever promises he gave you are lies.” This time, he stares at me. Steps closer. Steals my freaking breath with the bloodthirst leaping out of him. “He didn’t give a shit about anyone. Only himself. You are nothing. You are no one.”
“Trent,” his sister begs.
“Stay out of this, Ivy,” he warns, but for her, he pulls back the bite from his voice. For me, it reappears in full force. He jerks his thumb at Erin. “This home-wrecker and her sister were his way around giving us his money, Ivy. This was in place just in case Mom divorced him―which she eventually did―and couldn’t touch this money because she didn’t even know about it.” His laughter is a dry rumble. He peers down at the floor as if he has a direct line to hell. “Good work, Dad. Point to you, fucking bastard.”
No one corrects Trent.
Not his sister.
Not her man.
Not their mother.
Certainly not Erin, who looks unapologetic. Actually, she looks furious at me. I can’t wait to hear all the accusations she’ll hurl my way after this meeting adjourns.
Not.
Mr. Baker clears his throat. “There’s something else you should know.”
Jeez. The more tidbits he imparts on us, the more fucked up this situation gets.
“Great.” Trent throws his hands in the air, releasing a scoff. “Now what? What else did that asshole do?”
“As I was saying before, we set the account up before his death. He controlled the money. It pays for Payton’s college and cost of living, but your father saw to managing it. She can’t access the funds. When he was in jail, I served as his proxy. He gave me directions, and I made sure everything he wanted was taken care of.”
Trent’s eyes narrow. “You knew. This whole time, you knew.”
It’s obvious. As his lawyer, Mr. Baker had to know. Trent isn’t just now coming to this realization. He’s putting the accusation into the air as a warning. For later.
The sharp edge to his words may as well hold a blade because it cuts through the thinly held peace like a dagger.
And like an idiot, Erin doesn’t heed the warning. “I don’t understand. My sister has the money, but she can’t touch it?” Mr. Baker nods, eliciting a gasp from Erin. “Then how can she use it?”
“Mr. Aldridge set up the funds in a trust. Originally, she never had access to it. But recently, when he went to jail, he had it amended.”
“How?”
“He set up provisions and a contingency plan.”
“Such as?” Trent presses, looking like he needs ten years of meditation to undo the shitstorm from the past ten minutes. Or someone to release his pent-up anger on.
That is starting to seem like me.
Lovely.
Mr. Baker edges behind me, putting space between him and Trent. “We set the account up to pay for her lifestyle until she turns twenty-two, then she can control it.”
“And how old is she?”
I wave. “I’m here, you know. You can ask me yourself.”
He looks me over like I’m the dirt beneath his shoe.
“As I was saying, how old?”
“Twenty-one,” Mr. Baker says, still hiding behind me.
Coward.
The beginnings of a smirk form on Trent’s lips. He has the glistening, devious eyes of a viper and the behavior to match them. “Interesting . . .”
I still.
“That’s why I called this meeting,” Mr. Baker says, and I know things are about to get very bad for me.
“Who is in charge of the estate until that day?” Trent asks.
“You are.”
Trent’s eyes meet mine, and if I thought the last look he gave me was terrible, this one is like the devil rose from hell and took form in his body. A sinister smile slices across his face. It downright frightens me.
“So . . .” He stalks toward me, slow and measured. “I am in charge of the money.”
“Until she is twenty-two,” Mr. Baker clarifies, taking refuge behind Erin this time as Trent closes in on me.
“For the next year,” Trent follows up, another step closer.
“That is correct.”
The smile widens over Trent’s face. It makes him look a bit maniacal, and I don’t know what it means. I just know that I have three massive problems on my hands: a twenty-two-million-dollar fortune I have no access to, Erin’s wrath, and the full force of this stranger’s hatred.
“Is this all?” Trent asks the lawyer.
“In a nutshell.”
“Very well.”
The room falls eerily quiet.
If a pin dropped, you could hear it.
I can hear my sister breathing. Hell, I can hear my own heart beating. That’s how silent it is as we wait for Trent to do something.
By the look he just gave me, it will be deadly, that’s for sure.
Trent shifts.
We suck in a collective breath.
He steps in the direction of the door.
None of us dares to exhale.
He’s almost out of the room when he stops.
His head turns over his shoulder. There’s an odd look in his eyes. The blue is nearly gone, replaced by black. Almost like he’s been possessed.
“You will be hearing from me,” he says.
It’s a promise.
A promise of what? No clue. But when I return home to the house Ronnie rented me, I tuck myself into the bed he bought me. Beneath the sheets he gifted me, I curl myself into a ball and finally let the truth slip past my lips.
“I’m scared.”