Page 10 of Merciless Heir
“Any…clues?” I ask.
“It was in a safe and when we went to get it as per the instructions it was empty.”
I swing my gaze back to Jenson. “Maybe our father fell on hard times.”
“Not at all.”
I don’t know if Jenson is using his lawyer face and tone or if he simply lacks humor. It’s not like we’re close.
“But if the quest isn’t completed and the tiara back in the right hands, ours, then…”
“The company is lost,” my mother says quietly.
I frown. “If someone apparently took the quest along with the final Sinclair jewel, then why would they keep it? I’m not sure my father’s hand-written letter to me is worth money.”
“You should respect your father.”
“Should I, mother? It’s not like he respected you.”
She thins her lips. “I fight my own battles and you know nothing of our relationship.”
It’s interesting she says it that way, like they had one beyond whatever friendship came about after the cheating and their divorce and our father’s penchant for younger models of Faye. But I keep that to myself.
“If you get the tiara,” Jenson says, “by your birthday, then the company won’t be dissolved.”
“Dissolved?” My heart starts to beat hard and fast.
Mother nods. “Here.” She opens her bag and pulls out a thick cream envelope. Her name on the front.
I take it as something flutters to the floor. Swiping it up, my mother plucks it from me before I can do more than briefly glance at the scrap of paper. I don’t say anything, just open the envelope and smooth the letter out.
It’s as she says. All his sons must be ready for their tasks, and the tiara is the crowning jewel. I wince at the pun. There’s more. Our inheritance will be lost. It says if we take it and the jewels in question aren’t in Jenson’s hands when we’re given the quest—ours to turn down or accept if we wish—then our inheritances are forfeit and the Sinclair flagship company will be dissolved.
I don’t give a fuck about our inheritance. I don’t think Ryder, Magnus, or Hudson does either. We’re all billionaires in our own rights. We don’t need that money. I’d like it, but I don’t need it.
But the company dissolved? And the four of us siblings unable to buy it or even a share?
That’s some real bullshit right there.
I’m looking for the fucking tiara, anyway, because I want it.
What I don’t like is this twist. I don’t like being screwed with from beyond the grave. I don’t like whatever stakes my mother might have.
I don’t like the added pressure of this shit that smacks of manipulation.
Rising, I pocket the letter. “I’ll get that damn tiara.”
And with that, I turn on my heel and stalk out the door.
No, I don’t like that something which matters to us is on my shoulders, my responsibility.
But the thing I hate most of all?
What I saw on that paper.
One word.
Just one.