Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
I don't let myself think about what that means. Not yet.
"Then we have a deal," I say.
"Not entirely." Preston glances at the folder. "The trust's real property provisions are clear. Kauffman properties revert upon disinheritance. That includes the penthouse and the Mercer Island estate."
The estate.
The studio. The apartment. The hardwood floors and north-facing windows and every damn invoice I signed because I didn't know how to tell her I love her with words so I said it in square footage.
Christian sits forward. "The land may be trust property, but the residential structures and west wing improvements were financed privately, outside trust assets. Any claim on those improvements would be legally contestable."
Preston glances at the property counsel, who checks something on his tablet and gives one reluctant nod.
"We will review the structures separately," she says. "For the purposes of this agreement, the board acknowledges that privately financed improvements may fall outside immediate trust claim."
May.
Not certainty.
But enough.
"One final point," Preston says. "This outcome will not serve as precedent. Any future attempt by another beneficiary to manipulate the marriage clause will result in immediate review without the same consideration."
"Understood."
She closes the folder.
"We're done."
Genevieve is waiting in the corridor.
Leaning against the wall with her portfolio tucked under one arm, watching us step out with an expression I can't read.
Christian speaks first. "You didn't exactly make this easy."
"Easy wasn't available."
"You let them threaten all eight of us."
"And then reminded them what it would cost to follow through." Her gaze shifts to me. "Which was the job."
Christian exhales through his nose.
She straightens.
"I don't work for you," she says. "I don't work for the board. I work for the trust your father built, and my job is to keep everyone inside the rails." A pause. "Including them."
I hold her gaze. She didn't have to step in. She could have let the board swing at all of us and called it compliance.
"Thank you," I say.
One brisk nod.
"Don't thank me. Don't make me do it again." Then, quieter: "And whatever you do next, do it cleanly. They'll be watching."
She turns and walks away without looking back.
Christian watches her go.
"She has five kids," he says.
I glance at him.
"She just made sure that when their turn comes, the system still has room in it."
I don't answer. Because he's right, and I don't have room in my chest for one more thing right now.
"Come on," I say. "Let's go."
They're all already at the penthouse when we get there.
Of course they are.
I don't know who called who first. I just know that by the time Christian and I walk into the living room, every one of them is here.
Everly by the windows. Phone in a death grip. Blazer buttoned.
Zayne pacing. Trying to wear a trench into the hardwood.
Colston on the couch. Still and watchful, a glass of water untouched in his hand.
Wes in the corner chair. Silent. Arms folded. Which in Wes language is practically a meltdown.
Archer on the floor by the wall in a Stanford hoodie, jaw tight, looking like he's about to fight someone and hasn't decided who yet.
Levi at the kitchen island with whiskey already poured. Because Levi.
The room goes quiet when I step inside.
Then Everly says, "We're fighting this."
"No."
Her head snaps toward me. "Excuse me?"
"We're not fighting it."
Zayne stops pacing. "Like hell we're not."
"I already took the deal."
Nobody moves.
Christian closes the door behind us. "He took the deal," he says quietly. "His share for ours."
"You did what?" Everly whips around. "Without calling us?"
"You would've said no."
"Yes," she snaps. "Obviously."
"So would I," Zayne says.
"I'm out too," Archer says from the floor. Immediately. No hesitation. "If they take yours, they take mine."
"Same," Wes says.
One word. But from Wes, that's practically a filibuster.
Colston sets his glass down. "I'll pull Morrison myself."
"Absolutely not."
Levi finally speaks from the island. "You don't get to decide that for us, Everett."
I look at all of them.
My family. Every last one of them here within an hour. Because that's what Kauffmans do now. We show up.
"My job as the oldest is to protect you," I say. "All of you. I knew what I was doing when I married Aria. I knew the risk. The consequence is mine."
"That's bullshit," Zayne says.
"It's math."
"It's not math, it's martyrdom, and you're not as good at it as you think you are."
Everly cuts in. "He's right. You are not sacrificing yourself for seven people who are telling you not to."
"Eight people," I say. "You're forgetting Aria."
That lands.
The room shifts.
"If we litigate this, Aria ends up on a witness stand explaining why she signed that contract. Explaining her father's medical bills. Brookhaven. And if the funding gets frozen while we fight, he loses the place that's helping him get better."
Everly's eyes go bright. Furious and glassy at the same time.
"Everett..."
"One share of the trust for all of yours and Aria's father stays in care. That's not martyrdom. That's the best deal in the room."
Silence.
Levi looks at me across the room.
And because Levi has never once in his life taken the long way around anything, he says, "You love her."
Not a question.
I don't answer right away.
I don't need to. Every person in this room already knows.
"Yeah," I say. "I do."
The quiet after that isn't shock.
It's grief.
One by one, they fold. Not because they agree. Because they know I already made the choice.
Everly kisses my cheek and holds it a second too long, then leaves before anyone can see her cry. Zayne hugs me hard enough to bruise and mutters "You're an idiot" into my shoulder before disappearing. Colston shakes my hand. Says, "Whatever you need." Wes squeezes my shoulder on the way past.
Archer stops at the door. Turns back. Nods once.
That single nod says more than most people manage with a paragraph.
Christian stays.
So does Levi.
Christian stands in front of me, tie finally loose enough to look like a brother instead of counsel.
"This isn't over," he says. "There are angles left."
"Maybe."
"You don't believe that."
"No."
He looks wrecked. That's worse than angry somehow.
"Go home," I tell him. "Get some sleep."
He studies me for another second. Then, quietly: "You're still the best brother I've got."
He leaves.
And then it's just me and Levi.
He slides the second whiskey glass toward me. I take it. Drink it in one go. Set it down.
"I need you to do something for me," I say.
"Yeah."
"I'm giving Aria the estate."
Levi goes still. Not for show. Genuinely.
"What?"
"The board can challenge the land if they want. But Christian thinks the structures are outside the trust's immediate reach." I brace my palms on the island. "The house. The studio. The apartment. I'm signing them over to her."
He stares at me.
"You'll have nowhere to live."
"I'll figure it out."
"You'll figure it out." He exhales hard. "Shit, Everett."
"She needs the studio. Her father needs the apartment. I built that place for them." My voice holds steady somehow. "I'm not letting this take it."
Levi pours us both another drink.
"You built her a home," he says quietly. "And now you're giving it to her because you can't stay in it with her."
I don't answer.
He sets my glass in front of me.
"I'll handle it," he says. "The transfer. The taxes. Whatever needs to happen."
"Don't tell her it came from me."
He looks up sharply. "Everett—"
"I mean it."
He stares at me for a long moment.
And then it clicks. Not just the house.
"She has to think the arrangement was all it ever was," he says.
"Yes."
"You're going to make her believe it was never real."
I can see the look in his eyes that he doesn't like where this is going.
"Yes," I say.
"To protect her," he confirms, as if trying to understand what the hell I'm thinking.
"Yes."
Levi's jaw tightens. "That is the stupidest damn thing I've ever heard."
"I know."
We stand there in the quiet. Whiskey burning low in my chest. The city doing what it does beyond the windows—moving on, not caring, being Seattle.
"I haven't figured out how to do it yet," I say.
Levi doesn't answer right away.
Then he says, very quietly, "There's no good way to do it."
No… There isn't.
I'm going to look at the woman I love and tell her it was never real.
And I'm going to be convincing enough that she believes me.