Chapter 1: The Renegade Billionaire: Chapter 1

Laughter is inappropriate. I will not laugh at the reading of this will.

If I keep saying it in my head while staring straight ahead, perhaps I’ll keep myself in check.

“That’s the biggest hourglass I’ve ever seen,” my childhood best friend, Greyson, whispers out the side of his mouth, and I quietly cough to hide my smile.

Smiling at a will reading isn’t acceptable either, especially in these circles.

“I’m certain that’s Ace’s doing.” It definitely aligns with my grandfather’s sense of humor. This was the first attorney’s office I’d ever been in, when I moved in with Ace and he brought me along to meet with his lawyer. Mr. Coop hasn’t changed a damn thing in all those years.

The hourglass stands close to six feet high and takes up a good portion of the book-lined wall—it must be four feet wide.

Greyson glances at his watch. “Think they’ll show up on time?”

“Money is involved. They’ll be here.” I lean into his space and lower my voice. “I bet when my grandfather adopted you and Sage all those years ago, you never thought you’d end up staring at an hourglass big enough to pass for a center lineman—let alone one engraved with two men sitting cross-legged facing each other on it.”

It sends us over the edge, and laughter erupts from us both. If others find that offensive…well, truly, I really don’t give a shit, because the reality is, this is fucking ridiculous. And Ace would’ve loved it, so I have no doubt he’s the reason this particular monstrosity is sitting in here now.

“Trust me,” Grey says under his breath, “had we not moved in with you and Ace when we did, we’d be looking at something else equally disturbing, but without the stable mental health to deal with it.”

My family is messed up, but so is Grey’s. He and his nephew came to live with us after his sister, Violet, died giving birth to Sage when she was seventeen years old.

Unfortunately, Grey’s childhood has left scars that may never heal. His mother passed away when he was seven, and their entire family fell apart. My family didn’t want me but wouldn’t give up their parental rights, but Grey’s dad—well—he’s a monster of another kind.

When his dad found out about Violet’s pregnancy, he made choices that landed him in prison—we were twelve the day everything changed.

With no other living relatives, custody of Grey and Sage was awarded to Ace. And my parents had already left me on my grandfather’s doorstep years before, only checking in when it suited my mother or when my father, Alistair, wanted to throw his weight around.

I think they’d have done anything not to see me every day. It’s why we vowed to protect Sage—and we took ownership of his care the day he was born.

From the ashes, we created our own family.

A family my parents can never compare to.

Mr. Coop enters the office with his suit buttoned up as though he weren’t at our home a few hours ago, clinking glasses to honor the life of an amazing man.

“They didn’t show up for the wake. Do we really think they’ll show up here?” Grey asks bitterly. He has even more reason to hate my family than I do.

Where they had indifference for me, they flat-out loathed him because Ace treated him as his own grandson.

“I made it perfectly clear that all accounts are frozen until the stipulations of the will have been met.” Mr. Coop’s voice wobbles with age but also with sadness. He was a close friend and confidant of my grandfather for longer than I’ve been alive.

“They’ll be here,” Grey and I say in unison.

“Nothing’s more important to them than money.” The words burn the back of my throat.

“What’s with the hourglass?” Grey asks Mr. Coop while attempting to cover the twitch of his lips with the back of his hand.

“Another way to fuck with us, I’m sure.” Alistair, my sperm donor of a father, mutters as he strides into the room with false confidence that the world cowers before him.

And in some situations, people do. But I haven’t been that man in ten years.

My mother, Amara, and siblings follow him into the room and stand behind him, forming the familiar A-frame I was always excluded from.

“A still stands for asshole,” Grey whispers. Alistair, Amara, Anastasia, and Archie.

I peel my gaze away from my family. I spent years attempting to gain approval from them, but they were never going to accept me. Alistair made sure of that by naming me Braxton and giving me my grandfather’s surname. I was the oops baby left to be raised by my grandfather.

A selfish act made by selfish people, but it’s one I’ll always be grateful for. I am who I am today because of Ace.

“I don’t have all day, Peter,” Alistair barks, causing the older man to startle in his seat.

Reaching over the desk, I place my palm on his stack of papers while directing my glare at Alistair. “Take your time, Mr. Coop. No one is rushing you.”

“Don’t you⁠—”

“Enough.” The threat steeling my tone has all the A-holes turning in my direction.

“Don’t forget your place, Reyes.” Alistair hisses it out as an insult—he always has—but his words stopped cutting me open when I learned what kind of man he truly is.

“Oh, don’t worry, father. That will never happen. My place, as Braxton Reyes, Ace’s grandson, is right here. Don’t you forget that.”

“Can we get on with this?” My mother speaks up for the first time. “Anastasia and I have a yacht to catch.”

Disgust has me snorting in her direction. “Of course you do.” Sometimes I wonder how my siblings would have turned out had they also been raised by Ace.

“He was my father.” She sniffs. “I’ll mourn how I see fit.”

“Seems as though your mourning won’t be any different than any other day,” Grey mutters.

“You stay out of this, you freeloading piece of trash.” Archie’s hatred of Grey has never been a secret, and at least now he’s being honest about it.

I don’t bother explaining to them that Greyson is better family than they’ll ever be, or that he’s already made more money for Omni-Reyes than my father has made in a lifetime.

They’re blinded by their own jealousy. They’ll never hear the truth because they’re too dependent on the lies that they’ve built their lives on.

“I said, that’s enough,” I snap.

Everyone spins to face me, and I relish their expressions of shock and confusion. I haven’t had a relationship with these people in years. I’ll abide by my grandfather’s wishes for his company, but I will not stand for their blatant disrespect any longer.

I roll my hand toward the elderly attorney. “Mr. Coop, when you’re ready, please.”

He nods with a kind smile for me. When he turns to my family, he plasters on an agreeable but blank expression.

“This will take some time. If you’d please take seats.”

“We’re fine.” Alistair throws his shoulders back. It’s a move he believes holds power, but all it does is make his giant belly more pronounced.

“All right.” Mr. Coop opens the folder and lays out Ace’s final wishes—the inheritances, the requirements to receive them, and the delays that mean no one is getting anything today…or even this month.

The room throbs in complete silence.

My father is the first to find his voice. “Let me get this straight, his—” He points in Grey’s direction. “That bastard’s nephew gets an inheritance?”

“Say that again and you won’t be able to walk out of here, you feel me?” Grey snarls. He doesn’t use unnecessary words with outsiders, preferring to be the silent one in the shadows, but nothing makes him jump out of his own head faster than someone insulting our nephew.

“And he, Greyson, who isn’t even family, is to run Omni-Reyes for six months, and then he gets a fucking inheritance?” Alistair continues.

“That’s correct,” Mr. Coop agrees blandly. “However, Greyson is, legally, family.”

“But his blood relatives, Ace’s real family, even me, we’re the ones who have to jump through goddamn hoops just to hear his will six fucking months from now?”

“Greyson will abide by the same stipulations as the rest of you. It’s all laid out very clearly in your paperwork. Sage, I’ll remind you, was also legally adopted by Ace, and graduated high school at age fourteen. Therefore he will gain access to his inheritance when he turns eighteen and start-up money at twenty.” I might be mistaken, but Mr. Coop appears to be enjoying this back-and-forth.

My head throbs as tension creeps up my shoulder blades, through my neck, and settles around my temples.

“This is something he’d do,” Grey whispers. Unlike Alistair, we were expecting to be thrown a curveball.

“I know,” I say, while my sister sobs and my brother throws a book across the room. He’s forty-four years old and still hasn’t grown out of his toddler stage.

Ignoring them all, I ask Mr. Coop, “What is it he wants us to do, exactly?”

The fine lines of a happy life crease his features as he relaxes into his chair. “The objective is the same for all six of you, but the locations and situations are all different.” He stands and hands each of us a manila folder.

I open mine and angle my shoulder so Grey can read along with me, and he does the same with his.

Dear Braxton,

If you’re reading this, my time has ended, and the games are about to begin. Always remember that riddles make the world go round—or something like that.

I’m sure you’re questioning why I’m asking you to do something so wild and out of character. And that is precisely why I want you to do this. You’ve always done what you thought you should do. I fear, my dear boy, that you’re at Omni-Reyes because you believe you owe me something. I’ve always worried that you are there because you think that’s what’s expected of you, not because that’s where your heart is.

But what I want, more than anything in this world, is for you to find your place.

Find your happy, Braxton Reyes. Find what makes you smile and want to jump out of bed in the morning.

“I have to go to Montana, live in the cold for six months, and work in squalor?” My sister’s whiny tone rises to dolphin-like decibels, dragging my attention away from my grandfather’s letter.

My hands are clenched around my folder so tightly the corners crinkle, so I drop it back into my lap.

“It’s a school in an economically depressed rural town,” Mr. Coop corrects. “Teaching is what you went to college for, Anastasia.” How is he keeping his tone so neutral? I would be howling with laughter at their expressions. It’s why I’ve kept my head down.

“For what?” she screeches. “He wants us all to do good deeds for six months to get our inheritance?”

“That’s correct.” Mr. Coop pushes his glasses higher on his nose using his pointer finger.

“Be thankful.” Archie scowls. “I’m going to fucking Maine. Toilwood, Maine to—to work at a farm because when I was seven years old, I said some bullshit about wanting to have my own cow? This—we’ll fight this. Right?”

I lift my gaze to my parents.

“Quietvale?” my mother squeaks, staring at the sheet of paper in her trembling hands. “Where the hell is Quietvale?”

“Just outside of Detroit,” Mr. Coop says. Okay, his tone is slightly cheerful now.

“Detroit? Oh my God. Detroit?” My mother might be on the verge of hyperventilating. “Is that safe? My own father wants me to work with homeless women for—for perspective. Dear Lord, I think I might faint.”

Alistair’s expression is irate, and spittle has settled in the corners of his lips.

“Where did he even find these towns?” Grey shrugs next to me, but he’s looking a little pale. Glancing down at his letter, I see Ace basically told him the same thing—find your place, find your happiness—except his is centered around trusting himself to become the leader Ace knows him to be.

“Honey, what does yours say?” my mother asks Alistair. When he doesn’t answer, she takes the folder from his hands. “Truth or Consequences, New Mexico.” She laughs, a completely unhinged, shrill sound. “That’s a joke, right? It’s a joke? You can’t be a companion at a nursing home. It’s as if he didn’t know any of us at all.”

“It’s your father’s gallows humor at play again, dear,” Alistair says through clenched teeth. He doesn’t raise his voice, but it hits with deadly accuracy, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. He turns his dark, lifeless gaze my way. “And where is he sending the golden boy?”

I’m no longer terrified of my father, but sometimes my body doesn’t quite get the memo. Fortunately for me, I’ve had a lifetime of hiding my emotions from these people, so when I speak, my voice is clear and confident. “Georgia.”

An inn in Happiness fucking Georgia.

“To do what?” Alistair growls.

I quickly scan the rest of the document. “To rebuild a town.” That’s not exactly what it says, but it’s the gist of it. Ace wants me to find the heart and soul of the town and fix it.

“No pressure or anything,” Grey whispers.

No shit. How the hell does someone find what’s broken with the heart and soul of a freaking town they’ve never even heard of before?

The silence that descends on the room could be heard all across California. The tension in the room is suffocating.

Mr. Coop takes a deep breath. “Yes, well, different towns, same rules.”

“And what are those?” my sister cries.

“You are to inhabit these towns for six months. Make a difference in your specified area. Be the good Ace wanted to see in the world. But you do it without funding from Omni-Reyes.”

The outcry from my family could wake the dead, and it takes over five minutes for Mr. Coop to regain control enough to explain.

“Simply put, your assets connected to Omni-Reyes are frozen, but all personal accounts, meaning anything you’ve earned on your own, is, of course, yours to use as you see fit.” Mr. Coop doesn’t contain his smile then.

Surely Grey and I aren’t the only ones who have earned money, invested it, and diversified. Are we?

Grey nudges me with his elbow, and I know he’s thinking the same thing.

Is my family really so fucking dumb that they’ve never tried to stand on their own?

“And if we don’t have any money that isn’t in our trusts?” My brother’s finally showing an emotion that’s not rage. But fear doesn’t look any better on him.

“You were all given start-up money in college, or in your case, Alistair, when you married Amara. Ace was very clear that you should attempt to make a name for yourself. Did you not do that?” Mr. Coop’s jaw drops as he glances around the room. “Are Braxton and Grey the only ones who followed directions?”

“Montgomery Media is my company,” Alistair says with an arrogant laugh.

“Actually,” Mr. Coop interjects, “you took over Reyes-Veritas and rebranded it as Montgomery Media with Ace’s blessing and connections. As you will find in your contracts from that transaction, upon Ace’s death, the entity reverts to the Omni-Reyes umbrella.” The attorney takes a step back, rightfully putting more distance between himself and Alistair.

“That’s bullshit.” The veins in Alistair’s neck strain against his skin as he jabs his finger toward Mr. Coop. “I will fight this.”

“Yes, Ace was sure that you would, but as a courtesy, I’ll advise you, he had twenty-two of the top attorneys in the country from twenty different firms working on his will for the last five years to ensure his wishes couldn’t be overturned.”

“And to make sure that twenty of the top law firms in the country would immediately have conflicts of interest.” Grey taps his chin while he thinks out loud.

“That too,” Mr. Coop says quietly, but the twitch above his left eye makes me believe this was probably his idea.

I nod in appreciation, and the sparkle in his eyes proves me right.

“Conflict— I—I’ve worked there for forty years,” Alistair bellows.

“And you have the chance to continue working there. But there are procedures to follow.”

“Procedures? You mean wild goose chases across the country. This is unacceptable,” my mother says. “Alistair, do something.”

He glances from my mother to me with unadulterated loathing.

Chaos breaks out then as Archie and Anastasia begin to yell over each other. The raised voices alert the office’s security team, and within minutes, Grey and I are left alone with Mr. Coop, who turns over the giant hourglass.

I lean forward as a new image comes into view. On this side of the hourglass are two etchings. The one dropping the sands of time has a man flipping us his middle finger. But it’s the two at the bottom, collecting the sand, that has my attention…because it’s us—me and Grey.

Well, twelve-year-old versions of us. The image is clear as day. If only the message were too.

“I know Ace enjoyed his puzzles, Mr. Coop, but what exactly am I looking for in Georgia?”

The older man sighs and falls into the chair beside me. “I spent over fifty years trying to keep up with that guy, son. I never could do it. But I know he wanted you all to make a difference in the world. But with you, I think he wanted you to figure out what it is you truly want out of life.”

“And he thinks I’ll find that in some town called Happiness?”

Mischief sparkles in his tired expression. “I think he wanted you to find happiness, however that looks for you, Braxton.”

“How, exactly is this all going to work? What will determine if I’ve made a difference?”

Mr. Coop lays his hand on top of mine, his aging skin paper thin. “Ace always had a plan, but know this—to him, making a difference wasn’t always what could be done with your bank account. Sometimes it’s your time and attention that leaves an impact on the world around you.”

“‘Time will always be more valuable than gold.’” It’s the phrase I heard Ace say a million times, and the ache of missing him rears up at knowing I’ll never hear his voice again.

“That’s it.” Mr. Coop pats my hand one more time before standing. “Invest your time and your heart, Braxton. Those are two commodities you’ve kept close to your chest for too many years now. I believe that Ace thought it was time for you to share the best parts of your soul.”

“Make a difference by giving my time,” I mutter. Turning to Grey, I see the worry etched all over his face—it’s an emotion he rarely shows.

We’ve been running Omni-Reyes together since college. First with Ace’s help, then on our own for the last five years. Failing Ace is his biggest fear.

“You’ve got this, Grey. You know that, right?”

He nods and rolls his lucky coin between his fingers as he stares at the floor.

“The rules say you have to be in Georgia, Braxton,” Mr. Coop says. “But they don’t say you can’t have help or help others. Ultimately, Grey does have to make the tough decisions for Omni-Reyes while he’s in charge, but the two of you have always put thought before action—you’ve discussed and collaborated. You’ve grown Omni-Reyes into something far exceeding anything Ace could’ve ever imagined, so he was very careful with his wording.”

Using my thumb, I press into the ache that feels hollow in my chest. “Grey is to be the face for six months, but we can still work together to ensure we’re making the right decisions?”

That’s where my value for Omni-Reyes lies anyway—being able to pull the ideas from Greyson’s mind and then drafting the plan that he executes.

We are truly the perfect team.

Mr. Coop nods, and Greyson pitches forward in relief beside me. “Greyson isn’t required to travel like the rest of you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t travel.”

Grey drops his head into his hands.

“I’ll give you boys a few minutes to talk privately.” Mr. Coop stands, but confusion must show on my face because he nods toward the stack of papers in my hands. “You leave tonight, Braxton. And I’ll give you a word of advice—I’ve known your father since before you were born. When he fails, and he almost certainly will, he will try to sabotage you. Don’t make it too easy for him to trace you. It was a very smart move not saying the name of your town, but Georgia is only so big.”

We’re silent as he leaves, then Grey turns to me with his shoulders pulled back in determination.

“You need a break, man,” he says. “You’ve been going twenty hours a day for six months. When’s the last time you even slept in a bed and not cat-napped in your office?”

I shrug, but exhaustion and sadness do feel heavier today than they have in months. “You’re one to talk. We have a goal, and if we want to undo all the years of abuse Alistair’s choreographed under the guise of freedom of speech, I had to get everything in place to oust him at our first opportunity. Montgomery Media reverting to Omni-Reyes is our opportunity, and now we’re prepared.”

“You know I’m still on board with our plan—the world needs a bipartisan source of information—but that doesn’t have to be your whole life. Alistair made choices, but they’re not yours to correct. Where the hell would I be if I had to undo all my father’s corruption?” He swallows hard.

“You okay?”

“It’s no secret that I was born a Wells, Brax. Ace spent his entire life building a brand that people could trust, and they trusted it because of him. The Wells name…when it comes out that I’m the acting CEO.” He grips his hair in frustration. “Nothing good happens when a Wells is attached to anything.”

I know what it cost him to admit that. He never talks about his family.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not a Wells, Grey. You’re a Reyes, and you are not your father either.” Grey is a better brother than Archie has ever been, and Ace made sure that we were family the way it should be, with unconditional love and acceptance. “What the fuck am I going to do in Happiness, Georgia?”

His smirk shows just how funny he finds my predicament, but his fear is etched into his face like a tattoo. “Make it an adventure. Do what Ace said and figure out what it is you love to do instead of doing what your loved ones needed you to do. Ace is sending you there for a reason—he always said there was healing to be done in happiness.”

I snort, and my shoulders bounce until my laughter escapes, then I pull out the postcard of the place Ace is sending me to.

“I just don’t understand what could be waiting for me at an inn in Happiness, Georgia that’s so important he never bothered to mention it until he was dead.”

“No idea, man.” He takes the folder from my lap and starts sifting through it. When he holds up a credit card I recognize, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I guess he knew about the DDD after all.”

He hands me the folder, and I place my car keys in his open palm. Our nephew will love it.

“Tell Sage to be careful with it.”

“Come on,” he groans. “You remember that he’s only seventeen, right? Giving him a hundred-thousand-dollar car is ridiculous.”

My lips curl up at the corners. “I know. It’ll secure my crown as the fun uncle.”

His laughter rings loudly in the stuffy room.

I can still hear it as I shut the door and walk away.

For better or worse, Happiness, here I come.