Page 80 of Merciless Heir

Then there was the knock on the door, followed by a teen barreling in, wide-eyed, bloody nose. I’d been leaving, and the look she gave me told me to continue on my way.

But not before I got a glimpse of why the woman wasn’t surrounded by riches—because she certainly could be judging by the work room and some of the things in there. They were old, the finished pieces, kept because she liked them. And when she slipped the kid money, and how she spoke to him, I knew she’d helped Sadie, too.

As I knock on my mother’s door and wait, I can’t keep it all out of my head.

The old reprobate clearly helped kids. And I’m betting a considerable chunk of my fortune that she uses her skills to make sure these kids and their families are looked after.

I’m betting she keeps kids out of broken systems and tries to bring them a better life.

Does everyone suddenly possess bleeding hearts?

“Kingston?”

I almost jump. “Sorry, it’s been a long couple of weeks,” I say to my mother.

Normally her housekeeper answers the door, but it must be the woman’s day off.

“Come in.”

I follow her through the great hall and into her sitting room. It’s feminine with a modern edge, and not how we grew up. I look at her. She’s pacing. “What are you up to?”

“I could ask you the same question, Kingston. Time is running out.”

“Well, you and Jenson managed to somehow allow the final jewel to be stolen.”

“No one allows such things.” She pours tea into a porcelain cup and offers it to me.

I take it. The delicate cup and saucer with the tiny painted flowers and rim of gold looks ridiculous in my big hand. And I’m not fond of tea.

“What do the police say?”

“What I’d like to know,” she says, stirring milk and sugar into her cup, “is what progress you’ve made.”

“I did ask a question.”

Her gaze skitters to me. “Time is running out. What are you going to do when you find it?”

“If. And it’s not your business.”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“It’s mine and something I’m going to be jumping through hoops to win.”

She sighs. “Kingston.”

“What? You don’t answer anything.”

“It’s been seen, you know. I have ears to the ground.” She continues to look at me.

I set the teacup down. “What are you up to?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.”

“You could end this, and you know it.”

“And how can I do that? Your father was of sound mind when he did all this.” She blows on the steaming tea then takes a sip.

I narrow my eyes. “Yeah, but who put him up to it. You?”