Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
JO
Isit in stunned disbelief in Gavin’s suddenly silent conference room.
Sheldon is equally still beside me. The leather of the chair beneath me suddenly feels hot, and the air thick and oppressive to breathe in.
Axel’s door slamming exit still echoes in my ears while the stipulations of my father’s burn through my mind on repeat: He and I must both live in my father’s mansion for a year.
I am supposed to clean priceless paintings while Axel continues running the business, and both of us must produce heirs, or we forfeit it all.
Surely these sorts of unreasonable demands can’t hold up.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but those specifications are something. Was my father actually of sound mind when he wrote this will?”
Gavin nods. “Yes. And if you’re wondering, these terms are perfectly acceptable in the eyes of the law.
Your father was no fool. He had a doctor pronounce him to be of sound mental health, and he has a written record of his clean bill of health.
As such, he has every right to do as he pleases with his money. ”
“But how is it fair that Jo loses out if Axel refuses to do his part?” Sheldon blurts out angrily.
“I said it was legal, not fair,” Gavin says. “Joseph had his reasons, and he was very specific and sure of his actions, but he did not share his thoughts with me.”
My hand drifts to the surface of the table, and the tips of my fingernails tap out a nervous rhythm against the cold glass.
I feel a sudden, irresistible urge to stand up, to turn on my heel and to walk out too.
Just leave. Go back to the life I had, where the most complicated thing in my week was choosing which cleaning chemical to use on an old master, or what to wear on the weekend.
Even the thought of this bizarre will, and the obligations imposed on me by a man I never knew, is suffocating.
But I can’t leave Gavin’s office. Leaving now would feel like admitting defeat even before the game starts, plus I hate to lose.
I lean back in my chair, staring at the floor through the tabletop.
The highly polished wood reflects the room in distorted fragments, each piece feeling like a jagged reminder of the insanity I’m entangled in.
Gavin finally breaks the harsh silence by standing up. He steps back and clears his throat as he holds out his hand to Sheldon.
“I wish you good luck, Mr. Manswell. If there is anything else we can do for you, please don’t hesitate to call,” he says.
Sheldon rises and shakes Gavin’s hand, then he looks down at me, his expression looking awkward but kind, and he offers me a small, apologetic smile.
“I hope you find some way through this. And whatever you decide, Jo, good luck.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Thanks, Sheldon.”
I go to stand up, hoping I can get a ride off Sheldon, but Gavin holds out his hand, stilling me.
“Actually, Miss Button, if I may have a moment more of your time?”
He phrases it like a question, but it’s clearly not really something I can say no to. I nod and settle back into the chair.
“Please excuse me for one moment while I show Mr. Manswell out,” Gavin says.
I nod again. I could certainly use a few minutes alone.
As soon as Gavin leaves the conference room, I bend down and snatch my purse up from the ground beside my chair.
I scramble through my stuff and snatch my cell phone out.
With shaking fingers, I scroll to our group chat and start a call, hoping at least one of them is about to pick up.
Jenny answers first. Then Serena. And Olivia half a second later. I guess they were all waiting for news,
“Jo, are you ok? How did it go?” Jenny asks, her voice shrill with concern.
I run a stunned hand over my face. “You won’t believe what’s happened … you have to hear this.”
I recount everything from the will reading as quickly as I can: the stipulation of staying here for a year, restoring the paintings, the pregnancy clause, and the fact that Axel and I both have to follow all of the rules for either of us to get anything. My voice trembles. Jenny exhales sharply.
“Oh, my God. Wow,” Serena gasps.
“Do you know anyone who could … you know … help with the pregnancy part? I mean I could ask around for you. A few of our friends have used donors,” Olivia says.
“Absolutely not,” I snap, more sharply than I mean to. “I am not having a child with some random donor or stranger. I’m not going to play some twisted game to satisfy my father’s ego or allow him to manipulate me for money. I won’t do it. I just won’t do it.”
“Then what are you going to do?” Olivia asks softly.
I stare out the window, at the skyline of downtown New York, at the sunlight glinting off the glass towers, at the impossibility of this life.
“I’m going to walk away. I’ll just come home, back to the UK, back to my life. My old life was fine. Comfortable. Safe. Real. Maybe my mum was right, maybe she was protecting me from a sadist. Who else would make people dance like puppets to get an inheritance?”
Jenny’s voice softens, but she can’t mask her curiosity. “But the money … the paintings… the whole thing. Aren’t you at least tempted?”
“I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m tempted by the idea of restoring the priceless old master collection,” I say. “But it’s not enough to rush into getting pregnant. I want kids, but not before I fall in love and get married first.”
“So that’s it? You’ll walk away from billions of dollars just like that?” Serena asks, always one to get right to the point.
I blow out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know.
I’m too confused to think right now. I just got the news.
Plus, I kind of feel so sorry for Sheldon.
Poor guy, he tried to put on a brave face, but he was crushed.
It feels really unfair that he should be given so much less than Axel and me.
If I got my inheritance, I could make sure he gets more.
Even Axel looked utterly stunned… he didn’t expect these wacky stipulations either.
None of us did. For me, it’s not that big a deal.
I can walk back into my old life and not suffer any feeling of deprivation.
But for Axel, running the Manswell empire is everything.
His life. Unless he is willing to give it all up and start fresh somewhere else, he has no choice but to play the game. ”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I guess I feel a little guilty, like I should at least try. Then again, having a baby just to fulfill a condition in a will feels instinctively dishonest and wrong.”
There’s a pause, then Jenny speaks up. “You’re right, of course.
It’s the wrong reason to have a baby, but the baby would still be loved.
Sometimes I think life throws opportunities at us, and instead of overthinking it, we should just be courageous and grateful and grab them with both hands.
When are you ever going to get a chance like this again?
Think of all the good you can do in the world with your inheritance… ”
I glance down at the polished floor again, my fingers drumming a rhythm on the glass surface.
Hearing my friends’ voices makes me crave home in a way that makes my chest ache, but even as I feel the whirl of homesickness wash over me and the thought of leaving beckons, part of me is still fascinated by the idea of what’s in that house.
The paintings. The masterpieces. The old masters I’ve spent my life dreaming about, the chance to work on them, to restore them to their former glory tugs at me, a lure I can’t quite ignore.
What a delight it would be to work on such works of genius.
The door rattles faintly, and I glance up and see Gavin coming back in. I press the cell phone to my ear.
“Guys, I have to go. The solicitor is back.”
I hear Olivia telling me to keep them updated as I end the call and slip my phone back into my purse, which is now plopped on the chair Sheldon vacated.
“Miss Button,” Gavin’s voice is smooth and measured as he sits back down. “Are you ready to proceed?”
I hesitate, swallowing the lump in my throat. Then, in a flash of clarity, I decide. My heart hammers, but my voice is firm. I know I am making the right choice.
“Gavin, I’m sorry, but I’ve made up my mind. I want to go home. Back to the UK. I’m not doing this challenge. It’s absurd to say the least.”
There’s a pause, a subtle shift in his tone.
“That is, of course, your right, and if you are sure, then a flight will be arranged for you whenever you are ready to leave. But I must ask one more thing of you first. Before you make your final decision, your father requested that you see his art collection first. He wanted you to be acquainted with the paintings before you take any action. It was very important to him.”
I grit my teeth. The truth is, I am reluctant to see them because it’s just killing time and now my decision is made. I just want to leave, and I am afraid seeing the collection will only make me question my decision and leave a sense of regret.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll see them.”
The drive back to the estate with Gavin is silent except for the soft purr of the car engine. Gavin doesn’t speak, and I don’t know what there is left to say, so I don’t either. My mind spins with apprehension, curiosity, anticipation, and dread all tangled together into a hard vibrating knot.