Chapter 24 #2
“Henry said he’d tell us more once we were all in Father’s study, and that the lawyers would be there,” Fola said.
“The lawyers? Why?” Octavius asked, swallowing the rising panic inside.
Fola shrugged and folded her arms. “Who knows, Tavi. Maybe the police have already found the killer and want to tell us about all of the gruesome details. That should be fun,” Fola said dryly.
It didn’t sound like fun to him at all.
The four of them started to make their way down the hall, walking slowly side by side like some kind of funeral procession.
“You okay, Tavs?” Romeo asked quietly.
“Yeah, I’m fine, Rome,” Octavius said, not liking the way his brother was looking at him. Like he was a china plate teetering at the edge of an open cabinet. “Why’d you ask?”
“It’s just, you haven’t stopped shaking. Since breakfast.” Romeo’s eyes darted to Octavius’s hands, which were indeed shaking, much like the rest of him.
“Oh, that,” he said, pausing to think of an explanation. “Haven’t had my morning coffee, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Romeo said.
Octavius squeezed his younger brother’s shoulder and forced a smile. “Yes. Now, how about you, Rome. Are you okay?”
Romeo paused and looked down at the ground in front of them as they walked on. “I don’t know. I guess it depends on what awaits us in Eden,” he answered.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Octavius replied. “Just don’t eat any of the apples.” That made Romeo smile.
It became clear as soon as they stepped into Eden that the lawyers were not here because the police had solved the case.
Instead, they were here to discuss the urgent matter of inheritances. Murder could apparently wait.
Bilal was already seated on one of the leather chesterfield couches in the dark-walled office, staring stormily into the abyss.
An air has changed around Bilal, Octavius thought.
Rome and Perdita took their seats next to Bilal, and Fola and Octavius found seats on the couch on the opposite side of the room.
Given that the place was named Eden, Octavius had always been perturbed by the glaring absence of plants, snakes, or Satan.
“What’s this all about, then?” Bilal asked, his tone cold, removed.
“We’ve gathered you here to discuss the matter of your father’s final will and testament,” Henry said, stepping out of the corner he’d been in, the shadow of a dead bull’s head looming behind him.
“Mr. Fowley here—the executor—will be reading the will out for us all.” Henry gestured to the important-looking man standing in front of their father’s desk, next to William and Clive, the lawyers.
Octavius hadn’t noticed Mr. Fowley until that moment.
The man’s dark, ill-tailored suit and expression blended in with the dark blue of the damask wallpaper behind him.
The executor wasn’t the only one hiding in plain sight either; there was a police officer posted by the window staring straight ahead while blocking much of the light coming in with his imposing frame.
He was most likely there to keep watch. To make sure they did not find themselves in any more trouble, or indeed, that any trouble did not find them.
“We were very sorry to hear about Leontes’s passing.
We hope to make this legal process as smooth as possible, despite the terrible circumstances; it is important that we respect his wishes,” William …
or Clive … said. It was hard to tell. The lawyers were dressed in the same bland gray suits, had the same tapered haircuts, and both spoke in careful monotones.
Most of the people who worked for his father were like that though.
Octavius used to wonder if his father’s staff would get fired for smiling too much, laughing at all, or wearing magenta-colored socks.
Fola scoffed. “Father’s not even in the ground yet and we’re already talking about inheritances? Doesn’t feel very respectful to me.”
Henry looked apologetic. “Actually, it is your father’s wish to be cremated and sent to space.
But nevertheless, yes, we know the timing is not …
ideal, but your father requested that his will be read out to you all at the same time, no later than the thirteenth hour after his passing.
” Henry looked down at his watch then. “As preliminary reports from the coroner’s office are estimating his time of death to be around midnight, this marks the thirteenth hour—so time is of the essence. ”
“Why did Dad want the will to be read out within thirteen hours?” Rome asked, as if there was ever a good reason that their father did anything.
Henry cleared his throat. “I believe, in your father’s words … he wanted to do so while the grief was still fresh and everyone was in more of a forgiving mood.”
“Classic Leontes, a drama queen until the very end,” Octavius said with a smile.
Everyone in the room turned to look at him, all sporting judgmental expressions. Bilal narrowed his eyes at the familiar pair of orange sweatpants Octavius was wearing, as if only just noticing them.
“May we begin?” Mr. Fowley asked the room as he moved to stand behind the desk, not looking impressed at all by the conversation taking place. In front of him was a very serious-looking briefcase next to a large safe box.
Henry nodded. “Of course, Mr. Fowley, please go ahead.”
They all watched Mr. Fowley thumb the briefcase’s latch, which sprang open with a gentle click. The air in the office was unpleasant and tense, as it always was. Octavius never enjoyed coming in here much—none of them did. Nothing good ever happened in Eden.
Octavius locked eyes with one of the animal heads nailed to the wall, the others staring down at him accusatorily.
He had never understood his father’s obsession with having all of these dead animals around him.
Surely it was a bad omen; if you were constantly surrounded by death, it was bound to catch up with you sooner rather than later.
“This will was last amended three nights ago, in the presence of myself and your father’s lawyers.
” The executor glared down at them all with his strong brow, his harsh frown seeming to suggest that this was the last place he wanted to be right now.
“It has come with a statement summarizing the division of the assets, which I will now read.”
The air in the room constricted even further as he pulled a short stack of pages from the briefcase, lowering his glasses to read aloud from the first page.
“ ‘I, Leontes Button, being of sound mind, do willfully and voluntarily appoint my representative, Jimothy Fowley, to have the right of disposition, as defined in section 7219122025 of the code of mortalities, and that all decisions made by my representative with respect to the right of disposition shall be binding.’ ”
“Who in the world names their child Jimothy? No wonder he looks permanently pissed,” Octavius whispered to Fola, who shushed him.
Jimothy continued. “‘The assets to be disclosed in the following will are: the amount of three point five billion dollars across liquid assets, in accounts and in several investments; the Button Estate, which is made up of the Manor, holiday homes, private jets, helicopter, yachts, cars, and the Button Games company itself, Button Games Ltd.; the medals, trophies, and prizes; and last of all, his sporting paraphernalia.’” Mr. Fowley licked his thumb and flipped the page.
“ ‘To my secretary of sixteen years, Henry Xu, I leave’ ”—there was a pause—“ ‘my golfing equipment and all my trophies.’ ”
Everyone turned to Henry, whose face was unchanged despite how much of a slap this clearly was.
Henry had been their father’s longest-serving personal secretary.
The Buttons were used to a revolving door of staff, most people staying no longer than a few months to a year, but after everything Henry had done, including practically raising Octavius and his siblings, he had basically gotten nothing.
Octavius had thought his dad and the secretary might’ve even been friends after all these years, but this clearly showed they weren’t. Or if they were, this was a coldness that would be difficult to shake the memory of.
“ ‘To my children, I leave the following,’ ” Mr. Fowley started again, his voice agonizingly slow.
“ ‘To my son Bilal Antonio Button, I leave to you a reduced inheritance of fifty million dollars. To my son Octavius Leartes Button, I leave to you a reduced inheritance of fifty million dollars. To my son Romeo Julius Button, I leave to you an inheritance of one hundred million dollars. To my daughter Fola Emilia Button, I leave to you an inheritance of two hundred million dollars.’ ” There was a pause, as all eyes shifted now to Fola, who Octavius could tell was holding back a smug smile.
Father’s will pretty much confirmed what they all already knew: Fola was the favorite, the one their father treasured the most. The one he was proudest of.
There was no jealousy in that for Octavius; he knew how hard Fola worked to be the perfect daughter, how tirelessly she fought to always be number one, to be the best, and she had finally done it.
Octavius smiled at her, taking her hand in his and squeezing.
He wasn’t surprised to hear about his reduced inheritance either.
It had been something he’d agreed to just before he’d left to go to boarding school.
His father had said that moving out of the Manor meant Octavius had irrevocably tampered with his experiment and there was a literal price to pay for that.
They were the same terms Bilal and Perdita had agreed to when they left too.
Moving out meant they were only entitled to half of their original inheritance.
He didn’t care much for the inheritance though, what he cared about was being free.
“ ‘Lastly, to my daughter Perdita Florizel Button,’ ” the executor continued, slowly flipping the page as Octavius began to zone out, his mind filling with all of the opportunities he would have now that his dad’s watchful eye was no longer peering over his shoulder, pecking at the list of accolades Octavius had collected in his short life and it never being enough.
Was it bad that Octavius felt some relief in that?
A weight sliding from his shoulders … freedom.
A flash of images washed behind his eyes once again and the unease crept back into the empty crevices left in the wake of his relief.
A scream, a thud, and so much blood. Octavius felt his bones rattle beneath his flesh, drawing his attention back to the room.
When he did, he found himself briefly locking eyes with the officer that was posted by the window, feeling a sudden jolt at the realization that the officer seemed to be watching him.
Octavius quickly averted his gaze, refocusing on Mr. Fowley.
“ ‘… an inheritance of one point five billion dollars, the main family residence, all the holiday homes, the private jet and helicopter, the registered cars, the yachts, and lastly, Button Games Ltd.’ ”
There was an edging silence as the final words from the will settled over the room.
Did they just hear that right? Their father had left Perdita … everything.
Octavius hesitated before slowly turning to look at his youngest sister.
It seemed as though Perdita had stopped breathing. She was deathly pale and sickly, like she could throw up any moment now. Octavius hoped she didn’t; he couldn’t stand the sight.
The executor began tucking the pages back into the briefcase. Octavius heard the sound of the leather couch moving as Fola finally stood. “Sorry, Mr. Fowley, there has to be some mistake—”
Mr. Fowley shook his head sharply twice, once left and then right. “No mistakes were made here, Miss Button. The will was checked over meticulously.”
Octavius’s eyes scanned the room, searching for the reactions of the others. Henry sported a neutral expression; Bilal’s mouth was pressed in a thin line; Romeo stared at Perdita with worry; and Perdita was staring off into the ether in abject disbelief.
Fola looked much like Perdita, like she was also on the verge of collapse. “But you said it was only just amended three days ago,” she pressed on. “There could have been an error made to one of the more sizable changes—”
“I assure you, Miss Button, no such error exists. The bulk of this will has been set in stone for quite some time now. The only significant revision made was to Henry’s portion of the will; everything else is exactly as it has been for many years.”
Years, Octavius repeated in his mind. Their father had known exactly how he’d split their inheritance for years.
Octavius thought he could smell something burning—but then, it might have been the steam blowing from Fola’s ears.
“But—” Fola began again.
“Miss Button, I’m sorry, but there will be no contesting this will.
What I need now is for you all to sign some forms. The board will be in touch with Miss Perdita Button soon to prepare her for her role as the new head of the Button Estate.
” Mr. Fowley paused. “There is one complication, however, stipulated in section D paragraph F.” He looked across at them all.
“In the event that Mr. Button is murdered, all assets are to be frozen until his killer’s arrest.”
“It’s just like Father to plan ahead for his own potential assassination,” Octavius muttered, and everyone in the room turned to glare at him once again, even Jimothy.
A look of betrayal bloomed across Fola’s features as the Buttons were each passed forms to sign, the room cloaked with an uncomfortable, heavy feeling.
Once the forms were signed, and they were dismissed, Perdita bolted out of Eden with such quickness she was barely a blur in Octavius’s peripheral vision.
His head shot up as he watched Fola go after her, followed by Romeo stalking after them both.
Across the room, Octavius locked eyes with Bilal, and it was clear, in that moment, that the two brothers were thinking the exact same thing.
This is not going to end well.