Chapter 46
CHAPTER
FORTY-SIX
ASHER
The mansion feels different now that I'm living in it. When my father was alive, this place was his domain. His fortress. Every room designed to his exact specifications, every piece of furniture chosen to project wealth and power and control. Now it's just empty.
Devon and I have been here for three days.
Three days since Julie kicked us out of the house, and I've been walking through these halls like a ghost. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Everything feels wrong. I button my shirt and stare at myself in the mirror.
I look like shit. Dark circles under my eyes.
My jaw is tight. I haven't been sleeping well.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Julie standing in that bedroom doorway. Her face so calm.
I grab my keys and wallet and head downstairs. Devon is in the kitchen when I get there, wearing one of my t-shirts and making coffee. She smiles when she sees me. "Morning," she says brightly. "I made you breakfast."
There's a plate on the counter. Eggs, toast, bacon. It looks perfect. "Thanks," I say. "But I'm not really hungry."
Her smile falters. "You haven't eaten breakfast in three days."
"I know. I just—" I run a hand through my hair. "I have a lot on my mind."
"We're free now," she says, stepping closer. "We don't have to hide anymore. We can be together. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Yeah. Of course." But my voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.
She studies my face. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't seem fine."
"Devon, I'm fine." The words come out sharper than I intended. "I just need to get to work."
She flinches. "Okay. Sorry."
I grab my coffee and head for the garage without looking back.
Work is a blur. I sit through two meetings and barely register what anyone is saying. My assistant asks if I'm feeling all right. I tell her I'm fine. That word again. Fine.
I'm not fine. I'm waiting. For what, I don't know. But something is coming. I can feel it in my gut. At lunch, I sit in my office and stare at my phone. No calls. No texts. Nothing from Julie, obviously. Nothing from Ryan either. Not even a message from Jamie telling me to sleep with one eye open.
I don’t know what will happen next. I just know this is going to get so much fucking worse.
Later that night, after dinner, my phone rings. The number on the screen makes my stomach drop. Gregory Hale.
I contemplate the phone for three rings before I answer. "Hello?"
"Mr. Stevens." His voice is formal. "I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."
"No. Now is fine."
"Good. I'm calling to inform you of a mandatory meeting in my office this coming Wednesday at ten a.m."
My heart starts pounding. "A meeting about what?"
"The Dean Stevens Living Trust."
I swallow. "I thought the trust wasn't being distributed until the one-year mark. That's not for a few months."
"That was the original timeline, yes," Gregory answers. "However, a triggering event has occurred that moves up the distribution date."
The room goes sideways. "A triggering event.” I repeat weakly.
"Yes. Your father built certain contingencies into the trust structure. Conditions that, if met, would accelerate the timeline."
"What kind of conditions?"
"I'll explain everything on Wednesday," Gregory says. "But I wanted to give you advance notice so you can clear your schedule."
"What the fuck is going on?"
There's a pause. Then he says, "I'm not at liberty to discuss the details before Wednesday. But I will say this: your father was a very thorough man. He anticipated a number of potential scenarios and planned accordingly."
My blood runs cold. "Who else is going to be there?"
"That will be evident on Wednesday."
"But–”
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stevens. I can't say more until the meeting. I'll see you then."
He hangs up. I sit there with the phone in my hand, staring at the wall.
A triggering event. It’s obvious what that event is.
My worst fear has come to life. My father built contingencies into the trust. He’s dead, but still controlling me. And I have a feeling that whatever he planned, whatever contingencies he built into that trust, it's going to destroy me.
All I can hear is his voice in my head. Don't fumble Julie, son. You'd regret it forever.
Apparently he planned to make sure of that, even from the grave.