Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 120475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
And me?
I sit back, relaxed, and let them.
Simon finally rounds on me, voice furious. “What the fuck did you do?”
I blink at him. “Inherited.”
Charles rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply through his nose. “This doesn’t make sense. Father wouldn’t just leave everything to you.”
“Wouldn’t he?” I arch a brow. “I was the only one who never needed a leash.”
That lands. A direct hit. Charles’s fingers twitch like he wants to throw his glass at my head. Instead, he turns to Rotterdam. “There has to be a way to contest this.”
Rotterdam is unbothered as he slides the papers forward. “You’re welcome to try. But I assure you, there is no avenue to contest.”
Gabriella scoffs. “Oh, come now. The old man was losing his mind at the end. He probably didn’t even know what he was signing.”
Rotterdam lifts a brow, turning a page with infuriating calm. “The will was amended before he contracted Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. His mental faculties were intact. The paperwork is sound.”
“So you’re saying Bane didn’t blackmail him into changing it?” Simon sneers, crossing his arms. “Because that seems more likely.”
Rotterdam doesn’t even glance up. “I’m not exactly sure what you imagine a man on a lowly priest’s salary could do to influence a man like your father, but I assure you, there was no coercion, no undue influence. Your father made his wishes explicitly clear. And as your father so often loved to remind anyone in his vicinity, as the richest man in the world, he could afford the best.”
He continues shuffling papers. “And I am the best. The will is iron-clad against contestation, lawsuit, or any other infringement the lot of you might think up.”
Miriam lets out a cold laugh, eyes glittering with something sharp. “Of course it is. Even if it wasn’t blackmail, I still suppose we’re meant to believe Bane had nothing to do with it? That he didn’t whisper in his father’s ear and poison his mind against the rest of us?”
“Believe what you like,” I say, tipping my glass toward her. “It won’t change the outcome.”
Silence again, but this time, it’s different. This time, it’s heavier. More dangerous.
I exhale slowly, stretching out my fingers against the table. “Are we done?”
Miriam scoffs, shaking her head, her nails digging into her palm. “You don’t even want it, do you?”
I tilt my head, smiling slightly. “Want has nothing to do with it.”
The fire crackles. The wine knocked over earlier still bleeds across the tablecloth. The wolves are restless, snapping their teeth, realizing too late that the hunt is already over.
I have everything.
And they have nothing.
I let them stew in it. Let the weight of their loss settle and their desperation sink into their bones.
Then I break the silence.
I push back from the table, slow and deliberate, and glance at Rotterdam. “You know,” I say, amused, “you’re right that Father only ever hired the best.”
Rotterdam, professional to his core, does not react, but I see the flicker of dry amusement in his eyes.
I swirl my whiskey, watching it catch the firelight. “And as luck would have it, he was right about that. Which is why, as of today, Rotterdam is no longer our father’s lawyer.” I lean forward, placing my glass down with a measured clink. “He’s mine.”
The eruption is immediate. Reactions explode around the table again. Only Miriam just studies me quietly, her eyes narrowing like she’s recalibrating everything she thought she knew.
Moira shifts beside me. I don’t look at her. Not yet.
Instead, I nod to Rotterdam. “Read it.”
Rotterdam clears his throat, straightens his cuffs, and flips to a fresh set of documents. “As the sole heir of Bradley Blackwolf’s estate, Bane Blackwolf has allocated the following financial distribution.”
The room quiets immediately and holds its breath.
Rotterdam continues, voice unshaken. “Each legally recognized child of Bradley Blackwolf is to receive a payout of one billion dollars.”
Charles stills, Simon’s mouth parts slightly, and Gabriella, for the first time all evening, looks genuinely surprised.
Rotterdam barely pauses before continuing. “Each partner who maintained a domestic relationship with Bradley Blackwolf for six years or more is to receive a payment of fifty million dollars.”
Miriam’s grip tightens on her wine glass. She lived with my father for eight. I don’t miss the way her lips part slightly or the way she catches herself before reacting.
“I, Bane Blackwolf, will retain one billion dollars for myself.” Rotterdam turns the page. “The remainder of the estate and holdings will be transferred to an investment portfolio to be donated to charitable organizations both of my choosing and by a board I will personally appoint to determine further allocations.”
Rotterdam folds his hands neatly over the documents. “This offer expires in one hour.”
A breath of silence.
Then, the room erupts.
“You’re out of your mind.” Simon’s voice is incredulous, but beneath it, greed hums like a second heartbeat. He wants the deal. They all do.