Chapter 42
Dixie
On my phone screen, the meeting commenced, stealing my chance to try Tyler again. Cochran set his camera up at the end of the table, giving me a clear view of the attendees. A line-up of faces that made me want to hide under the table.
Primrose and Wallace, both in black, a screen with Kane and Mila split across it, then a couple of faces I was less sure of but without doubt Marchants. Last was someone who should never have been there. Denise Harford.
Cochran called order and made introductions. When he got to the end, he paused and tapped the polished oak table. “Lastly, I am very glad to advise that Miss Darcy Marchant has been discovered after all. She is with us via phone call.”
Our grandmother’s head swung, her silver bob flying with the action.
All stared at the phone.
I shrank back, though they couldn’t see me.
Primrose spoke in a quaver. “You were having her declared dead.”
Cochran formed a polite smile. “Fortunately for us, that was unnecessary. Miss Marchant is alive and well. I confirmed it myself.”
My grandmother’s shock didn’t fade. “How can this be? Darcy?”
I stifled any sound, my heart thumping out of time. Her voice was so familiar. She’d aged but was still the woman who’d taken me shopping. Who’d loved me, invested so much in me, then threw me away.
Primrose paled. “Show your face, child. Please.”
When I didn’t, Denise snapped at the solicitor, “How do we know she’s real?”
Cochran sniffed. “Miss Marchant has confirmed her identity with me in person, including with a DNA test that I have been able to validate with the lab. Miss Marchant, please confirm your name. You need not do more.”
“Darcy Marchant,” I forced out.
Primrose flinched.
The room silenced.
I’d pictured this moment so many times. The day I had to return to the fold. Even in the safety of the skeleton crew’s warehouse, a sense of danger shook me up.
But it wasn’t just for myself. I was scared stiff for Tyler, too.
While Cochran moved the meeting on, I waved to Lovelyn and indicated for her to pass me her phone. She did, and I tapped out a note for her.
Could you please ask Arran about Tyler? He might have spoken to him.
She nodded hastily and started typing. But then my friend blanched, got up, and walked into the hallway.
Cochran waffled about the legal part of the will then tapped a stack of papers. “Now onto the provision. These are Austin Marchant’s words, given himself to me in a meeting shortly before he passed. I, Austin Marchant, being of sound mind…”
I stared after Lovelyn, wondering what had spooked her, then she appeared once more at the entrance to the hall. Something like fear held in her eyes.
“What?” I mouthed.
How could this day possibly get worse?
She held up a finger for me to wait, her phone gripped as if it were a weapon.
“Not Tyler,” I begged.
Her head shake in the negative enabled me to pull my attention back to the meeting. I caught a flash of a message notification at the top of my screen. Cassie. It was gone before I could see any words.
Cochran continued. “My estate and personal holdings go entirely to my beloved wife, Primrose.”
Wallace’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Cochran didn’t stop. “Marchant Haulage is to be split equally between Primrose and my surviving children and grandchildren. Each award falls under the same provision.” The solicitor swung his gaze around the table, capturing everyone’s attention.
“That only those who vote to continue to operate Marchant Haulage, my legacy, as an ongoing concern, are entitled to inherit. Those who abstain or vote to close it will forfeit their claim entirely. Any abstaining vote will be gifted to the power of my trusted companies with the same rules applicable.”
Wallace stared. “So I inherit nothing but the business, and only if I vote to keep the fucking thing running? Where’s my money? What about me?”
Cochran dipped his head. “Your father wrote to you personally. It’s a lengthy letter—”
“Summarise it,” Wallace griped.
“Very well. He felt that greater involvement in the world of business would do you good. He wanted the family brought together under the umbrella of his legacy.”
To the sound of Wallace’s complaining, the solicitor kept going.
“That concludes the will in full. Mrs Primrose Marchant, Wallace, Kane, Darcy, and Emilia, tomorrow, we will reconvene to carry out Austin’s wishes and the vote on the future of the company. I will send the arrangements in due course.”
I hung up the call.
I’d heard enough, and whatever Lovelyn had to say scared the life out of me.
“What did Arran say?”
She gulped. “He hasn’t seen Tyler either. He’s worried. But it isn’t that. Cassie messaged.”
The world seemed to fold in around her words.
“Your identity has been leaked online. I’m so sorry, but your name, picture, and your job are out there.”
She held out her phone.
I took it with numb fingers.
At first, it didn’t make sense. Just a blur of text and images, too many colours, too much drama. Then it sharpened.
My face.
A photo I knew next to another I didn’t even remember being taken. The first was from the club with me in hot-as-hell red leather. The other was from years ago, pulled from somewhere I didn’t want to think about. Side by side. Before and after.
DARCY MARCHANT FOUND ALIVE – SECRET LIFE AS HOOKER EXPOSED
The headline shocked me.
Another.
MISSING HEIRESS HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT – SEX WORK SCANDAL
And another.
HALF OF DEADWATER ALREADY KNOWS DIXIE
Yeah, that fucked me up.
“They’ve got everything,” Lovelyn said, her tone pained like this was hurting her. “Name, aliases, your work. They’re linking you to the clubs.”
I scrolled, swiping faster.
Mila showed up, let in by Lovelyn. I didn’t stop reading.
It only got worse.
Comments. Threads. Speculation. Women throwing shade. Men joking. Claiming what they’d done to me.
Some of them were guessing. Some of them weren’t.
My skin crawled.
They didn’t just find me. They’d stripped me bare.
The door opened again, this time Cassie entering, a terrified-looking Molly ahead of her.
Cassie escorted the pink-haired bartender into the lounge and up to me. “Was it ye?”
Molly stared. “Was what me?”
“Shared Dixie’s identity with someone? Maybe by accident? Talk. Tell us what happened.”
“Nothing happened. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Molly swung her head to take all the women in, settling on me. “I swear it. Dixie, if you’ve got a secret identity, that’s impressive, but it’s a mystery to me.”
Cassie’s arms stayed firmly folded. “So ye didn’t see the Marchant paperwork on the table then overhear Mila talk about an uncle?”
Sweat beaded on Molly’s brow. “Yes? I mean, I did see and hear that, but if it was a clue to something, I didn’t guess it.
I’m not all that smart.” She wrung her hands together.
“You’ve gotta believe me. Whatever has happened, it isn’t on me.
I’m good at keeping secrets. I hear them all the time at the bar, but I mind my own. ”
Mila exchanged an expression of pity with Lovelyn. “I believe her.”
“They’re saying I was hiding out with my mother,” I whispered, my throat so tight. “On Torlum. No one knew that apart from a handful of people here.”
Cassie’s hostility simmered. “That’s in there?” She leaned over my shoulder to see the article then took a breath. “This has only just broken, which means whoever sold you out gave them that, too.”
Molly mock-swept her brow. “See? I have no idea what Torlum even is, apart from it sounding like a place with more sheep than people, so it can’t be me.”
Cassie sagged, then cupped the woman’s elbow. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I jumped to a conclusion.”
Molly’s expression softened, the poor woman apparently still shaken but less frozen in terror.
“Honestly? Fair. If I were you, I’d assume I’d done it, too.
I was in all the wrong places at convenient times.
” A faint, nervous smile tugged at her mouth.
“I’ll go back to pouring drinks and pretending none of this is happening, deal? ”
Cassie let her out, stomping back. “Well, that’s a mistake I’ll need to offer a big raise to make up for. I was so sure. But if not Molly, then who? It can’t have been anyone on the crew. Only we knew.”
Lovelyn lifted a hand. “And one other. The person you stayed with on that island.”
I didn’t need her to name my mother.
But of course.
A bitter taste flooded my tongue. “She keeps on finding ways to sell me. First to my grandparents, then to Denise, now to the press. She didn’t just betray me. She monetised me.”
Mila made a strangled sound behind me. “Dix—”
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t. Not even close. But I shoved it down. There wasn’t time to break.
Another alert flashed. A live clip, emblazoned across the top of the Marchant drama that was otherwise dominated by me.
I tapped it.
Wallace burst from the solicitor’s office, his tie loose, face flushed, cameras and phones shoved in his direction.
“My father’s wishes are clear. I’ll run it,” he snapped. “Marchant Haulage isn’t going anywhere. I’ll make sure of that.”
Reporters shouted over each other. Someone booed.
“Are you confirming the company will continue operations?”
In a one-eighty from his fuss in the meeting, Wallace puffed out his chest. “I am. Whatever mistakes my father made, I will resurrect Marchant Haulage from the ashes. I’ll be the one in charge.”
The clip cut. Silence filled the room.
Mila stared at the screen. “He can’t be serious.”
Except he was. In the space of minutes, he’d changed his game plan from resting back and letting the money sprinkle over him to rising up and taking it.
And something shifted inside me. Not panic or fear, but different.
I released a breath. “He thinks it’s a toy. Something to play with.”
Lovelyn folded her arms. “He’ll run it straight into the ground.”
“That isn’t why he wants it,” Mila added quietly.
I stared between them. A thought formed. Not fully shaped, but there. What if—
No. Not now.