Chapter 3

The law offices of Cadry, Harrison and Cadry were located just south of Beverly Hills.

If the address itself didn’t indicate the wealth of the law firm, the inside of the building would. The modern design with harsh edges and bright lights welcomed clients at the front desk with the name of the law firm in backlit black letters inscribed on the wall. While there were several potted plants in the space, not one had a dead leaf or wilted flower to be seen.

Stuart Cadry sat behind a desk with a floor to ceiling window behind him. The usual suspects of law books and framed accolades were perfectly positioned on the open shelves of the built-in bookcases surrounding the room. Cadry looked to be somewhere in his seventies. Chase had remembered him from his childhood on the rare occasion he’d been in his father’s home when the lawyer was told to be there. Cadry’s salt-and-pepper hair was much saltier now than it had been then, but the man himself hadn’t seemed to age. His thousand-dollar suit and Rolex watch that glistened from his wrist flashed his nine-hundred-dollar-an-hour fee.

Chase sat beside his sister while Melissa nudged her chair a good foot away from the two of them before settling into it. Hiding behind large-rimmed sunglasses, Melissa held a handkerchief and dabbed it to her perfectly polished nose that sniffled from time to time.

Alex wore a pencil skirt and smart jacket while Chase had opted for a gray suit minus the tie. He was going to nix the jacket altogether, but his mother reminded him of the media that might be camping out nearby. The reading of Aaron Stone’s last will and testament was likely to have someone with a camera close by.

And while Chase didn’t give one thought to what he looked like as a reflection of his father’s legacy, Chase’s own business, and his employees, needed to see his professional side.

“Thank you all for coming. I know this is a hard time, but Aaron was very specific on his wishes after his passing,” Stuart started.

An audible sniffle emitted from Melissa.

“I will do my best to keep your time here to a minimum.”

Chase cleared his throat. “I’m sure whatever you have to say to us is short and sweet.”

Neither Alex nor Chase had expected anything from their father after his death. Knowing the man, their presence at the reading of the will was probably requested so Aaron could tell his kids, one last time, that they should have sucked up to him more in life to collect a few more zeros upon his death.

Stuart offered a noncommittal smile and opened a drawer on his desk. From there, he pulled out three individually bound files. Two were equal in size, and one less than a quarter of the others.

Turning his attention to the widow, Stuart filled his lungs with air and slowly blew it out. “Mrs. Stone. The prenuptial agreement you signed before your marriage with Aaron is still in effect. Provisions were laid out for the unexpected event of his death. Because no foul play has been suspected and the medical examiner ruled Aaron’s heart attack to be from natural causes, there is no reason to hold back what Aaron promised you.”

“The prenuptial was in case of a divorce.” Melissa looked between Chase, Alex, and the attorney.

“It is written for the time of the termination of your marriage, be that divorce or death.”

“But—”

Stuart held up a hand. “There were additions to your husband’s will after your marriage.”

Melissa folded her hands in her lap and sat back quietly.

Stuart opened to a flagged page. “I’ll paraphrase here to get us through this process. If you need more, I can explain things line by line.”

“Paraphrasing is good,” Chase told him. Line by line in what had to be, at minimum, five hundred pages would take weeks.

He took a breath and started reading. “At the time of my death, should my marriage still be intact, I bequeath my beautiful wife all the gifts I gave her in our marriage. The five-carat pink diamond wedding ring is hers. Any car she may be driving, if I was the one to purchase it for her, is hers. If I bought property in her name, she is entitled to it, as we negotiated at the time of our marriage. As is the five million dollars we agreed to. Her personal effects, clothing, shoes, handbags, furniture in her personal space within our home, limited to her bedroom and conservatory . . . are hers, as described below. At the time of the reading of this will, I request assessors to be in our home, taking inventory of Mrs. Stone’s personal possessions.”

Melissa sat taller, her eyes glued to the attorney.

Stuart paused, glanced over the glasses on his face, and went back to reading. “Should the personal items in Melissa Stone’s possession exceed half a million dollars, including but not limited to cars, jewelry, art, designer bags and shoes . . . Jet Skis, boats, property, et alia . . . joint memberships to country clubs, social clubs, et cetera . . . and were purchased after the day of our marriage, these items will be considered part of my estate. If my loving Melissa wishes to keep these items, she may buy back said items from the trust at fifty percent of their estimated worth.”

Chase closed his eyes and listened to the sharp inhale of his stepmother.

“I don’t understand,” she told the attorney.

“Which part?” Stuart asked.

“All of it.”

Chase nearly rolled his eyes. His father was screwing over his wife in his death. No shocker there.

“Mr. Stone prepared a file of all the items he’d gifted to you during your marriage.” Stuart tapped the papers on his desk. “It’s all in here. The Range Rover, the jewelry he gave you for holidays and anniversaries.”

“The house in Italy?” Melissa leaned forward.

“That is part of the estate.”

“He took me there last summer, said it was mine.”

“Not according to the deed.”

Melissa slapped her handkerchief-filled palm on the armrest of the chair. “My Aston?”

“If it doesn’t exceed the half a million—”

Chase could practically see the calculator running numbers in the woman’s head. Knowing how Melissa dressed and how she shopped, he could only imagine what kind of bills she’d run up during her five-year marriage.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Mr. Stone was very meticulous with his wishes.”

“What about Stone Enterprises?”

Stuart folded his hands together. “You’re not named.”

“The house?”

“It belongs to the estate.”

Melissa’s gaze swung to Chase and Alex, her voice rose. “And what? They get the house?”

“Mrs. Stone . . .” the attorney said quietly.

“I live in that house. It’s my home.”

“Don’t look at us,” Alex spoke for the first time since Stuart had started reading. “We don’t want it.”

Chase shook his head, doubting the home was left to any of them. Yet when his eyes found Stuart’s and then drifted to the larger files on his desk, Chase started to squirm.

What had his father done?

“They don’t want it. You heard them.” Melissa shifted her weight to the front of her chair, all pretense of tears and sorrow dropped from her face.

“That’s not how it works, Mrs. Stone.”

“But—”

“As stated in your prenuptial agreement, if you challenge any of Mr. Stone’s wishes, or the agreement at the time of divorce or death, you’ll be entitled to nothing.”

“We were married for five years!” She was yelling now.

“And you’re entitled to a million dollars for each year of marriage. Mr. Stone appreciated your companionship.”

Alex winced at Chase’s side. Even though there was no doubt that Melissa had married their father for the dollar signs, it hurt to hear their marriage summarized as a “companionship.”

Melissa shot to her feet, her hands over the desk and on the file with her name on it. “I will have my attorney look at this.”

“That is certainly within your rights. Any legal action, however, will void—”

“That son of a bitch.”

On that, Chase would have to agree with the woman.

“You have seventy-two hours to vacate the house in Beverly Hills. A penthouse suite at the Stone Hotel on Wilshire is at your disposal until you acquire a new address.”

“Oh, how generous of the bastard.”

“Not to exceed ninety days.”

A stream of obscenities flowed from Melissa’s mouth as she pulled the strap of her purse up on her shoulder and juggled the pages of the will at the same time.

Pure venom strung from her eyes when she fixed her gaze on Chase and his sister.

“Does this make you happy?” she snapped.

“You’re showing your age, Melissa,” Alex said without malice.

“We were born the same year.”

Alex pulled in a deep breath. “A fact that has always grossed me out.”

“This isn’t over.” With that, Melissa stormed out of the office, a whiff of perfume followed her out.

Alex leaned back, crossed her legs. “Is there a particular reason we had to be a witness to that?”

Stuart smiled. “Your father’s wishes. He wanted no misunderstanding or misinterpretation of his intentions. Mrs. Stone has more than enough to keep her comfortable for the rest of her life. Your father saw to that.”

“Better than he did for our mother,” Chase muttered.

Stuart cleared his throat, squared his shoulders. “If it helps, I advised him against that.”

It did help, for reasons he couldn’t name.

The room grew silent for a moment.

Stuart pulled the remaining two files in front of him. “The good news is you can right the wrongs of your father. Both of you. As the counsel to Aaron at the time this was written and as acting executor, I have reviewed this thoroughly. I can go over each line item”—he tapped his fingers on the files—“and will, if you want me to. Or I can summarize the highlights and let this digest. Perhaps schedule another meeting next week or whenever is convenient for you both.”

“Why would we need that?” Alex asked. “We weren’t exactly high on Daddy’s list.”

Chase let his sister do the talking, all while he watched the attorney’s body language. The man looked tired, like he should have retired five years ago tired. At his age, shouldn’t he be off playing golf somewhere right about now?

Alex waved her hand at the files. “If he thinks we’re going to jump through a bunch of hoops to get a check from him, he underestimated how little we need his money.”

“It’s a lot of money.”

“We know.” Alex sat forward, waved a hand at the door. “We’re well versed in how our father treats the people he’s supposed to love when he walks out of the picture. Melissa may have been a gold digger, but that shouldn’t have been a surprise to the man. Much as I don’t like the woman, she shouldn’t be forced out of her home less than a week from burying him.”

Chase placed a hand over Alex’s in an effort to calm her fiery temper. “Why don’t we listen to what Mr. Cadry has to say. He’s just the messenger, Alex.”

The rapid rise and fall of Alex’s chest continued after she stopped talking.

Stuart folded his fingers on top of the files. “Aaron may not have shown you in his life that he admired and respected the adults you both became, but he has in his death. With his actions.” He paused.

“Tell us,” Chase said, eyes drifting to the files, which seemed to grow while the attorney got to the point.

“Aaron Stone left his entire estate to his children.”

Chase felt his body grow rigid. Money, he somewhat expected. Maybe an old photo with a note attached saying . . . maybe you should have come around more.

“Stone Enterprises, in its entirety. All the hotels, properties, undeveloped land. The holdings, stocks. Personal items, of course, cars, homes—”

“W-what?” Alex’s hand was cold under Chase’s. Her one-word question hung in the air.

“Everything, Alexandrea.”

Chase stared past the attorney and out the window. His father ran a multibillion-dollar hotel empire with a half dozen arms reaching to all corners of the globe.

“Aaron watched your career at Regent. He knew that while you never wanted to work with him, you have this business in your blood.” Stuart turned to Chase. “You reached your first eight-figure year eighteen months ago. Are slated for nine figures in the next two years should things continue. Aaron may have never said it to you, but he was proud . . . of both of you.”

Not words Chase wanted, or needed, to hear.

Alex stood abruptly and walked to the window. “And if we don’t want it?”

That was anger talking. “Think of Mom,” Chase told his sister.

“You all will equally share in the responsibilities and votes on the board. There are people at Stone Enterprises ready to bring you in and up to speed.”

Chase found his head tripping over Stuart’s words, almost like a stutter. “You all?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said, ‘you all.’ You mean Alex and me.”

Stuart shifted in his chair, his lips drew a flat line.

“Yes . . . except.”

Anything that followed the word except couldn’t be good.

“Except, what?”

A shiver ran up Chase’s spine when the attorney hesitated.

Alexandrea turned to face him . . . slowly.

“Aaron has another son. You have a brother.”