Chapter Twelve
Flynn
The atmosphere was tense, to say the least. Everyone stuck to their own corner, harboring different feelings and thoughts about what was about to happen.
We were in Barrister Fletcher’s office. If you were an important member of the Jefferson family, you were expected to be there.
Mother had called for the meeting—our second family gathering since my father’s funeral. The first hadn’t gone smoothly, so it had been adjourned.
Only a small portion of the will had been read at that time, enough for us to learn that my father had set a condition for inheriting his shares.
There was one reason everyone had shown up: the piece of paper held by the man in the crisp gray suit—Mr. Fletcher. His gaze swept over us, picking up on our collective tension.
That paper in his hand contained my father’s final words, his will. As the firstborn son of my grandfather, my father had been put in charge of the company and the majority of our family’s properties.
Although his younger siblings had gradually been allowed to oversee certain aspects of the business, they still had to report to my father for a very long time.
Eventually, what was due to them had been handed over—but they still held stakes in J-KINGS Holdings. Now that my father was gone, they wanted more than a stake; they wanted control.
I perched on the edge of the cushion, my mother on my right and Heather on hers. We were bracing ourselves to hear our father’s last words. The others, meanwhile, looked ready to learn what share of the family’s wealth they would each receive.
Mr. Fletcher cleared his throat just as heavy knocks sounded on the door.
I stood to open it, expecting to find Uncle Will—he was the only one missing. Sure enough, he stood there, fist raised to knock again, and stormed inside as soon as I opened the door.
All eyes turned to him.
“Whose idea was it to leave me out of such an important family meeting?” he barked.
I glanced at my mother, startled. Uncle Will had refused to speak to either of us since he’d made his motives clear.
We had invited Aunt Tasha, believing she would pass along the memo, as they were still on speaking terms.
My mother silently mouthed, “Let him be.”
I stepped aside to let him in, swallowing the retort that nearly slipped out. He found himself a spot on the couch and turned to Mr. Fletcher.
“What’s taking so long, Fletcher?” he demanded. “Let’s get on with this. I have a company to get back to.”
My mother looked up, noticing his subtle jab. She had been melancholy since we gathered—it was an emotional moment for her.
Heather and I were the only ones who seemed concerned about her well-being; the others had come to stake their claims.
I returned to my seat and signaled for Mr. Fletcher to proceed. He cleared his throat, reviewing the will one last time before placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose to read.
“As the executor of the estate of the late Harrison Grant Jefferson, it’s my duty to read out his last will.” He paused, adjusting his glasses. “Please note that this will was drafted and signed by Mr. Jefferson on February 10th, witnessed by two individuals as required by law.”
Mr. Fletcher’s gaze locked onto each face in the room.“Article I: Appointment of Executor. Mr. Jefferson appoints me, Fletcher Smith, as the executor of his estate.”
He continued, his voice steady. “Article II: Distribution of Assets. Mr. Jefferson leaves his entire estate—including real property, investments, and personal effects—to be divided as follows:‘My wife, Khalan Jefferson, shall receive 50% of my personal estate, including the family home in New York. Thank you for always standing by me. I love you dearly.’”
Mother burst into fresh sobs, and I squeezed her shoulders gently to offer comfort.
Mr. Fletcher paused, giving everyone time to process this. “Article III: Distribution of Shares in J-Kings Holdings. Mr. Jefferson leaves his shares in the company—totaling 40%—to his son, Flynn Jefferson, on the condition that he is married or engaged to be married at the time of the transfer. Failure to fulfill this requirement will result in 20% of the shares being transferred to his brother, Will Jefferson, and the remaining 20% to his wife, Khalan Jefferson.”
Uncle Will’s face darkened. “What kind of nonsense is this?” he blurted out.
Mr. Fletcher held up a hand. “Please, let me continue. Article IV: Appointment of CEO. Mr. Jefferson appoints his son, Flynn Jefferson, as the CEO of J-Kings Holdings, effective immediately. However, if Flynn proves incompetent, the board members reserve the right to elect a new CEO, based on the majority of shares and the highest votes.”
A low murmur rippled through the room, but Mr. Fletcher carried on.“Article V: Distribution of Subsidiary Companies. Mr. Jefferson leaves his various subsidiary companies to be divided equally among Flynn Jefferson, Will Jefferson, and Tasha Jefferson. Each shall receive a third of subsidiaries—including Kings Renewable Energy, Kings Technology, Kings Healthcare, and others. Mr. Jefferson requests that Will Jefferson and Flynn Jefferson work together to oversee their respective subsidiaries, ensuring continued growth and success for J-Kings Holdings. He also leaves his daughter, Heather Jefferson, a lifetime modeling contract with Kings Fashion, a subsidiary of J-Kings Holdings, to support her career. Additionally, he bequeaths his private yacht to Heather, in the hope that it will bring her joy and comfort.”
“Article VI: Bequests. Mr. Jefferson leaves his collection of rare artifacts to his brother, Will Jefferson. As a final request, Mr. Jefferson asks that his brother, Will Jefferson, provide Flynn Jefferson with all necessary support and guidance in his new role as CEO. He trusts that Will will help Flynn navigate the challenges of leading the company and ensure its continued growth and success.”
Uncle Will looked eager to speak. He straightened his unbuttoned suit jacket and leaned forward on the couch, but for the moment, he kept quiet.
“Furthermore,” Mr. Fletcher went on, “Mr. Jefferson emphasizes the importance of continuing the company’s charitable endeavors, particularly in education, healthcare, and environmental conservation. He requests that the company maintain and expand its philanthropic efforts, in line with its core values and mission.”
Aunt Tasha smiled while Uncle Will’s expression grew more calculating. Finally, Mr. Fletcher finished, folded the document, and looked around the room. “That concludes the reading of Mr. Harrison Grant Jefferson’s last will. I will now answer any questions you may have and guide you through the next steps in settling the estate.”
Chaos erupted as everyone started talking at once. Mr. Fletcher rapped his gavel on the desk, restoring order. “One at a time, please. Let’s maintain decorum.”
Uncle Will stood, his face red with anger. “This is ridiculous! Harrison must have been out of his mind to leave the company to Flynn!”
I rose to meet his glare. “I think my father knew exactly what he was doing, Uncle Will.”
“Leaving the company in the hands of a child?” Would you have been a better choice? So you can run it into the ground? I wanted to retort, but I bit my tongue.
Mr. Fletcher spoke firmly before we could escalate further. “Gentlemen, please. We’re here to settle Mr. Jefferson’s estate, not to air personal grievances.”
I turned back to Uncle Will. “Sorry to disappoint you, but my father left it in my care. If you genuinely support the brother you claim to love, maybe you could start by calling off your ridiculous coup.”
“It isn’t a coup if my blood, sweat, and tears went into building that company. I’m not scheming behind your back, but I’m also not going to stand by and let Harrison leave me with nothing.”
“He hasn’t left you with nothing,” my mother interjected. “You own the second-highest shares in the company, plus control of some subsidiaries, and he bequeathed his artifacts to you. Isn’t that enough?”
“No, it isn’t. I’m done being pushed aside. I worked twice as hard as he did. Now that he’s dead, he still wants to run my life?”
“I believe that’s how wills work,” Heather chimed in.
“That man is your brother,” my mother said, her voice cracking.
“Your crying act won’t sway me,” Uncle Will retorted. “I’ll do what must be done.”
He turned to me. “Don’t think you stand a chance against me. I’ve been around a lot longer than you have.” Then he stormed out.
His words echoed in my mind. What did he mean by that last statement? Or had I misheard him?
Aunt Tasha said little, only informing Mr. Fletcher that she would return with her lawyer to sort out her share. She said her goodbyes and left.
Aside from Mr. Fletcher, only Heather, my mother, and I remained. Mother turned to Mr. Fletcher. “Thank you for your time. Is there anything we should worry about? Will was obviously unhappy with the will.”
Mr. Fletcher sighed. “Not if Flynn stays engaged and gets married. Will won’t get those shares otherwise.”
While they continued talking, I drifted into my own thoughts, replaying Uncle Will’s parting words. A heavy suspicion crept in—was it possible he had something to do with my father’s death? His brazen attitude made it hard to dismiss.
“What do you think about the idea, Flynn?” Mother’s voice yanked me out of my reverie.
“What idea?” I asked.
“Mr. Fletcher mentioned you might want to prepare your fiancée,” Mother explained. “She needs to understand how our life works. Considering how sudden the engagement was, she may need some time to adjust.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?” I asked.
Heather chimed in. “It might be best if you took some time off with your fiancée—like a vacation.”
“As tempting as that sounds, there’s too much going on at the company,” I countered. “I’m not sure I can spare the time.”
“Don’t worry about the company,” Mother said. “I can handle things while you’re gone. You’ll get daily updates, and any major meetings can be done over conference calls.”
“Think of it as part of your work,” Heather added. “Cedar needs to face these people eventually.”
It was actually a good idea. Cedar was naive about the scheming and plotting in my world—she needed a crash course in what it meant to be a Jefferson. Besides, I could use a break to clear my head.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll talk to her.”
I stood and headed outside to the parking lot, where I could get some privacy. Pulling out my phone, I scrolled through my contacts until I found Cedar’s number. My mind raced with possible destinations, finally settling on one.
The screen lit up when the call connected.
“Hey, fiancé,” she teased in a cheesy tone.
“Good day to you too,” I said, clearing my throat. “How would you like to take a vacation with me…to Zanzibar? ”