Epilogue FallNothing
Chris Magnus, ODRR Owner
“All right. Who is ready to eat?” I announced, removing the meat from the barbecue.
Minutes later, my family gathered around the picnic table and ate and talked and giggled our way through the meal.
The evening had cooled slightly with the sun making its way behind the mountains.
Another few months and snow would cover them.
So I’d hold on to this moment as long as I could.
Only a sound cut through my peaceful evening—an engine roaring up our long driveway, tires spitting gravel.
“What the hell?” I muttered, setting down my fork full of potato salad.
Nikki frowned. “Are we expecting anyone?”
“No.” Irritation pricked at the back of my neck. We lived a mile off the main road specifically for privacy. Nobody just dropped by.
The engine revved louder, more aggressive. Whoever was driving was going way too fast for our winding mountain driveway.
“Stay with the kids,” I told Nikki, already moving toward the front of the house.
I rounded the corner just as a sleek red sports car—some Italian thing that had no right being in the middle of Montana—came screaming up the drive. It skidded to a stop, throwing up a cloud of dust that settled over everything like a bad omen.
My jaw clenched. The windows were too dark to tell who it was, but I knew the type of person who drove it. Someone I could never be. I cared more about my ranches, horses, and family, and using my millions for good, as opposed to filling a garage full of shiny, useless cars.
A moment too long later, as if the driver had purposely kept me waiting, the door opened and out stepped Carter Magnus.
My half brother appeared exactly like I remembered from the last time I’d run into him in a private jet hangar a few years back, same expensive sunglasses, highlights in his hair, and that entitled air that came from never having to work for anything in his life.
Only then he’d had a few women hanging all over him, jetting off to a party in Ibiza or some shit.
“What the hell are you doing here?” The words came out harsher than I intended, but I didn’t care.
Carter pulled off his sunglasses, and I caught something in his expression I’d never seen before. Desperation.
“Good to see you, Chris. I—” He stopped, seeming to struggle for words. “I know we’re not exactly close.” His slight English accent could only carry him so far.
“Close?” I snickered. “Carter, the few times our paths crossed, you treated me like I was nothing better than the dirt under your boo—” I peered down at his feet. “Your Italian leather loafers.”
“You know I was just following Hugh and Oliver’s lead, right? I never took the time to actually get to know you. And, well, I’d like to now.”
“I believe you three called me the bastard half brother who didn’t belong.”
He flinched. Good.
“So I’ll ask again. Why the fuck are you here? And how did you even find my place?”
“Mick told me where you lived,” he admitted.
I’d have to remember to give Mick, the only half brother I cared about, a piece of my mind about this.
Carter stepped forward, removing something from the back pocket of his tan Bermuda shorts. They rode low on his hips, a polo shirt finishing his look—his damn collar upright with a polo player on the chest—that was more suited for an afternoon drink at the country club than here.
He held up a cream-colored envelope. I almost groaned; I recognized the heavy linen paper instantly.
“Chris, you won’t believe what Dad wants me to do,” he started.
My blood ran cold at the sight of that envelope.
I’d held one just like it years ago. The day that changed everything.
Our father had passed. We were all at the reading of the will.
Each brother had received an envelope, each with a different impossible task to complete before we could claim our inheritance: a billion dollars for each of us.
Mine led me to find my wife, Nikki, better known as Nicoletta, the once lost country singer.
It worked out for me, but I couldn’t care less about any of my half brothers.
“Ask me if I care.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I never invited you here, Carter. So please leave. And if you don’t mind, do it more quietly than you came.”
I turned to walk back to my family, but his voice stopped me.
“Please, Chris. You’re my only hope.”
It was the way he said it, raw and broken, that made me pause.
God help me… I turned back slowly. He stood there holding that damned envelope as if it were a lifeline. Or a noose.
For the first time, I really looked at him. Past the expensive clothes and the entitled posture. His eyes had dark circles under them. And his expression... This wasn’t the cocky middle child who’d always acted out for attention. This was someone at the end of their rope.
“What could you need my help for?” I asked, my voice flat. “Go ask your brothers for help.”
But even as I said it, my mind raced. Why would Carter come to me? We were half brothers, technically, but we’d never been brothers in any real sense. Unless—my eyes dropped to the envelope again—Harry’s challenge for Carter involved me in some way.
Carter had been living on his trust fund all these years. Partying, making the social pages. I’d heard from Mick he’d even gotten arrested twice; of course, the family lawyers paid off the right people to get him out of each one.
Basically, Carter did everything he could to get noticed by a father who never cared. Fucking Harry Magnus.
I knew that feeling. I could get no attention from him either. He didn’t ever acknowledge my existence, which made me being in his will even more astounding.
But now that envelope was in Carter’s hands, which meant it was finally his turn to do what Harry requested of him in order to get his inheritance.
If he was here, at my ranch, begging for help, whatever Harry had tasked him with, Carter couldn’t do it alone.
“The letter says my brothers aren’t allowed to help me complete my challenge. But with you—as a half brother—my lawyer says we could get away with the minor technicality.”
I glared at him, waiting, wondering what on earth Harry’s final game would demand of this broken man standing in my driveway.
And whether I was saint enough to help him.
Thank you for reading.
Xoxo, Zee