Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Caleb
As I’m about to walk through the penthouse, trying to figure out what else we can do to make the place feel less like Gertrude’s domain and more like our own, I hear the soft chime of the elevator, signaling someone’s arrival. My head turns instinctively toward the foyer, and I spot a man stepping out.
“Can I help you?” I ask, my voice firm but polite, while a flicker of concern runs through my mind. I wonder if it’s time to tighten up security, maybe bring one or two of my guys to keep an eye on things—especially on Em.
Does she still have a bodyguard? I hope Logan didn’t leave her. He was pretty good at his job. It’s hard to know with her, the way she brushes off any concern for her own safety. She insists on being treated like any Jane Smith, claiming to be just a regular person. But she’s far from ordinary, and with her net worth, she’s a prime target. Ignoring that would be na?ve, and Em’s anything but that—except when it comes to herself.
“Mr. Cunningham,” he says with a nod, like we’re old acquaintances. I don’t like that he knows who I am while I have no fucking idea who he is.
“And you are?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.
“Percival Harrington III, Mrs. Langley’s former lawyer,” he replies smoothly.
“Oh, the lover,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest? I’m pretty sure fucking your clients should make the will null and void, shouldn’t it?”
He scoffs, the sound sharp and dismissive. “Gertrude and I were good friends, but let me assure you that we never . . . fucked.” He coughs, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Emmersyn enjoyed making her grandmother squirm with stories of our torrid affair when Trudy pissed her off. They had a rather . . . unique relationship, those two.”
“Unique is putting it mildly. Sometimes I wonder if Gertrude hated Em or just didn’t know how to love her,” I admit, the thought slipping out before I can stop it. It’s something I’ve wondered about, but never said out loud.
“She was . . . misguided,” he nods, his expression somber as he pulls an envelope from his portfolio. “Toward the end, she regretted many things she did.”
When I glance at the envelope, I notice my name scrawled across it in the same handwriting as the letter addressed to Em, the one about Bentley and how she had once again managed to screw up her life. I take it from him and toss it onto the entrance table with little care. “I really don’t give two fucks about the old lady. I’m here because . . . honestly, I don’t even know why I agreed to this.”
He nods, a faint smirk on his lips. “You’re definitely not what I expected, Mr. Cunningham.”
“What did you expect?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Well, Trudy spoke so highly of you. She believed you would do anything for her granddaughter because you loved her,” he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice and I hold the laugh. Gertrude Langley hated my guts and thought I was trash.
“In a very unpredictable move, you’ve taken everything from Emmersyn, supposedly to help her keep the company.” He laughs, the sound cold and almost mocking. “We knew she’d contact you because the people who work at Langley Media are her family. You . . . You’re taking what’s precious to her.”
“Obviously, she cares about it. It’s fucking money. Power. I want it and I got it,” I retort, irritation flaring up inside me. “Why is it a problem?”
“Did you hear what just I said?” His tone sharpens, his eyes narrowing with intensity. “She built a family in that company. Everything she lost when her mother died, she found again there—a family she created. And now, you’re ripping it away from her.” He starts clapping slowly, each clap dripping with sarcasm. “I never saw this coming, but you won. I hope you can live with it.”
I keep my expression neutral, refusing to let him see that his words are starting to get under my skin. Though I could tell him that his attempt to fuck with us by sealing the doors isn’t welcome, I don’t. I just say, “If that’s all, you can leave.” I point to the elevator with a steady hand.
He gives a small, mocking bow. “I’ll go for now,” he replies, his tone smug. “But we’ll be checking on you, making sure you’re not bending the rules.”
I don’t flinch, keeping my cool despite the surge of irritation simmering inside me. I wait until he’s out of sight before letting out a slow breath, refusing to let him know how much he’s pissing me off. I’ve dealt with worse, and I’m not about to let some smug lawyer rattle me. I’m not that kid anymore. No one will try to intimidate me to bend me to their will or threaten my family with anything. If they do, I will hurt them back. I’m strong and have just as much power as they do.
They will never try to fuck with me again.
Not now, not ever.