Chapter 11: Sophia

DARIUS

We were all seated in my father’s studio with Clyde, our family lawyer.

He took several documents and attached files out from his leather briefcase.

He had my grandmother’s cat in a crate that he soon opened.

“Whiskers!” Vivian exclaimed, calling the cat to her lap.

“Silence,” Edmund cut through the noise, sitting beside my mother. “We will begin any minute now.”

Please begin, it was already nighttime and all these family activities had stolen time I didn’t have.

But I had to admit that Olivia Summer’s show was… entertainment to watch.

Clyde Vanderbill’s voice brought me back to the room as his high-pitched voice read slow and steady from Sophie’s will.

“I, Sophia Rothschild, a resident of the state of New York, domiciled in New Hampshire, and a citizen of the United States of America, and being of sound mind and memory, do hereby make, publish, and declare this to be my last will, thereby revoking and making null and void any and all other last wills and testaments and or…”

I sighed.

My eyes glanced toward my family quickly.

We were all impatient.

Impatient to know.

“The names of my children Edmund Rothschild and Luther Rothschild…” Clyde continued, adjusting his glasses when Vivian interrupted him while petting the cat.

“Well, will you hurry up already?”

“Patience,” Luther spoke. “We will read all nineteen pages of Mama’s will.”

~Who gets the shares?~ He wanted to ask, and we all wanted to know.

Who from our family was going to inherit a huge chunk of The Rothschilds Enterprises, plus the manor and my grandmother’s jewels?

Luther’s eyes gleamed with pure hunger.

Vivian sat behind him, looking more bored than ever, and my father sighed, passing his hand over his forehead.

Alexander looked serious, and as for me, I just wanted this to be over.

“I direct that as soon as it is practical after my death, the executor named pursuant to this will review all of my just debts and obligations and…”

Undoubtedly, the executor’s obligations were going to go to my father or a corporate executor, as he would name me executor of his will when his time came.

Just hearing that gave me a headache.

The family lawyer continued.

Seventeen more pages left, and I wanted to stand up and leave.

“I name my grandson Robert Darius Rothschild as the executor of my will.”

I could feel the weight of Luther’s eyes on my neck as the lawyer continued reading how I was the designated person to make sure Sophie’s wishes were followed through.

What was Grandmother playing at?

I felt my father’s hand over my shoulder, exactly where it hurt from playing cricket all day.

“She always saw the best in you. I am sure you will make her proud,” Father said.

“I leave my jewels to be split between my male grandsons, Robert Darius Rothschild and Alexander Rothschild.”

“Impossible, there must be a mistake,” Luther said. “Does the name Vivian appear in the division of the jewels? How about the peacock brooch?”

“It clearly states that it is to be split between the males. I don’t see any females in this section.”

“She must have made this will before Vivian was born,” Luther protested.

“Calm down,” Edmund intervened. “I am sure Vivian will appear.”

“I leave my estate to my grandson and trust beneficiary, Robert Darius Rothschild.”

Shit, she left me her trust and the Rothschild Manor over my father and uncle?

“My collection of old cars will go to my nephew, Alexander Rothschild.”

Alexander whistled happily.

“It’s okay; you can keep the~ ~Maybach.”

I chuckled at my brother’s generosity.

“As for my family shares, I intend to preserve our last name,” Clyde continued.

Fuck, everyone was so silent now.

“It will go to the first male son of any of my grandsons.”

She what? Was Sophia Rothschild out of her mind?

She not only took her sons out, but she also made me the executor of this shitshow?

We had to bring a male heir to cash the shares.

Alexander spit some water he was drinking, and Vivian started laughing loudly.

“Until then, the executor will remain in power of the shares until my future great-grandson comes of age.”

My mother pressed firmly on my father’s hand.

No, this was worse than a nightmare.

This was never about money.

Why more responsibilities?

I never wanted to be in charge of our family enterprise, but the number of shares gave me no way out.

I avoided any glances between me and my father.

“Unhinged even from the grave,” Vivian muttered.

Alexander was watching out the window while scratching his eyebrow.

“The remaining assets are to be split equally between my two sons: Edmund Rothschild and Luther Rothschild.”

That sounded more like breadcrumbs.

Luther was so mad.

Mad and silent.

“My most precious asset, Whiskers, will go to my granddaughter, Vivian Rothschild.”

“Nonsense,” Luther huffed, walking out of the studio.

Vivian looked pleased, grazing her nose to Whiskers.

She took after her father, holding her new pet.

“Goodnight, family.”

~Goodnight?~ Who was supposed to catch some sleep after this news?

***

OLIVIA

I hopped off the bed and walked the stairs of the manor into the kitchen.

Everything was pitch black, and I didn’t know where the light switches of this house were.

I was silent, moving like a ninja in the dark with my furry socks.

I tried to ignore my growling stomach as I only planned on getting a glass of water and returning to my room.

The doors to this fridge were bigger than doors.

I opened both, the light of the fridge making me frown on the spot.

“Olivia?”

“Shit!” I jumped, turning around.

Darius Rothschild was sitting at the end of the kitchen island.

“For fuck’s sake! Who sits in the middle of a dark room!?” I snapped at him.

“I needed to think,” he said. “You. Interrupted. Me.”

“Right, creeper.” I murmured.

“Are you going to close the fridge or do you go out at night opening doors for no reason?” he asked irritably.

~Someone was moody.~

“And stand in a dark room alone with you? I would take my chances in a dark forgotten well in the middle of the forest first,” I joked, glancing around the kitchen cabinets looking for a glass.

I shook off his brooding presence, continuing my horrific joke because, yes, he made me hella nervous.

“The~ Ring~? The well with the creepy girl getting out of the TV? You don’t watch movies?”

He just kept looking at me, ignoring my movie reference, crossing his arms on his chest.

“The fridge remains open until I finish my task,” I added, not-so-ignoring how his massive arms looked delicious on that lucky black shirt.

“Which is?”

“Water,” I said. “And you will remain seated just where you are.”

“Here,” he said, sliding over a water bottle that had previously been opened. “Now ~disappear~, will you?”

Asshole. That was exactly what he wanted. For ~us~ to disappear.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I quite like your house,” I said, running my hand over the texture of one of the chairs. “I feel like staying for all the events. Don’t you love that idea, ~Darius~?”

“Come closer and find out,” he challenged me.

“Come closer, to you?” I teased him, though I had to admit he looked scary as shit.

From where I stood, the light from the fridge illuminated only part of his face, yet his silhouette remained big and dark.

I played my courage game, walking closer and grabbing the water bottle. “Sure, Miss Sunshine.”

I gasped as Darius Rothschild grabbed my forearms and pulled me closer to him, where he remained seated and I was standing.

For the first time, our faces were at the same level.

“What did you just call me?”

I was standing so close to him I could smell him—he smelled deliciously sinful.

My voice shook. “Let go of me.”

He did. Darius Rothschild released me.

Somehow, I was still standing in front of him, not backing down. Our faces were so close.

Oh, how we didn’t like each other.

“Huh,” he scoffed, so smugly, running his hand through his hair.

~Huh~? What was that ~huh~ about?

He was watching me with those eyes that played at disgust. He clearly had disgust for my face, especially my lips.

“It will be safer for you to turn around and return to your room, Olivia Summer,” he said slowly.

Those silver eyes were watching me like prey.

I felt small and defenseless, and he was warning me; he was warning me about him.

I breathed in deeply, not defeated yet.

“Yes, Miss Sunshine.” I managed to keep my voice light and steady while quickly grabbing the water bottle and leaving the room.

I was not safe.

I was not safe around Darius Rothschild, but it seemed I lacked preservation instincts.