Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Ispent all morning in the office, setting up for what I hope will bring down the first family on my list. A slight doubt seeps in.
Brad’s been one of my closest friends. We’ve known each other since we were in diapers.
Our parents hung out a lot together. That didn’t stop the Levines from voting to target my mom and dad.
I don’t know how much Brad is mixed up in this, but he’s not innocent. None of us are. I don’t believe it was a coincidence that those men turned up at the estate when they did. If I hadn’t already taken Jazzy into the panic room to talk…
Well, I hate to imagine what would have happened to her.
I’m tempted to reach out to Brad and find out if he does know anything. I just don’t trust him. There is one person I trust. Jazzy. She’s the only one I know would never go against me. Even though she has every reason to. I’ve been an asshole to her.
I’ve been researching the stock market, particularly what stocks the Levines invest in the most. It’s not going to be hard to make all those companies take a temporary dip.
I can easily log in, throw a bunch of cash into them from the Levine accounts, and then once they increase again, sell off their stock at a higher profit margin.
It’s simple shit. Happens daily. But with a few targeted sales, I know that once it happens, once they dip, the Levines’ broker will buy like he’s shopping at Costco.
In bulk. It’s the reason for the drop in the first place that matters.
That level of growth will be investigated.
And when I send the right authorities an anonymous tip about insider trading with evidence that can’t be rebuked, that’s when shit will hit the fan.
All these families are wealthy, but none of them are as well off as the Westmeads. I pick up the phone and place a call to a broker friend I met in college.
“Westmead, it’s been a while,” Aaron answers.
“It has. How you been?”
“Good. Sorry to hear about your parents,” he says.
“Thanks. I need a favor,” I tell him.
“For you? Anything. Hit me.”
I relay a very simplified version of what I want to happen and what part I’m going to need him to play in it. He has to send an email to his contacts, knowing that the Levines’ broker is one of them, tipping them off to an upcoming low about to hit the market.
“You do realize what you’re talking about is insider trading,” Aaron says cautiously.
“Only if you or another broker chooses to act on the shared information,” I remind him. “There’s something else…”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.” Aaron sighs.
“I want the heads of all six families tagged in the email.”
“What exactly are you planning, Jake?” Aaron asks.
“Nothing. Just doing a community service,” I lie.
“Right, because you always were the good Samaritan. I’ll do it, but just so you know, if I lose my job over this, I’m coming to work for you,” he says.
“I’ve been trying to get you to come work for me for five years.” I laugh.
“And up until today, I’ve been secure in my job,” he grumbles.
“Thanks. I’ll owe you one.”
“No, this makes us even, Westmead,” he says.
I know what he’s talking about. I got him out of shit back in college.
His parents lost everything. He was going to have to drop out because he didn’t have the funds to continue.
I made an anonymous donation towards his education.
I wasn’t about to let one of my friends not graduate because of money.
Something I have plenty of. The asshole hacked into the college computer system and found out where that donation came from.
I never would have told him, because I didn’t want him to feel like he owed me anything.
“Sure,” I agree, just to shut him up.
Cutting the call, I flick my wrist around and check the time. My dad’s old Rolex shines against my tanned skin. He gave it to me for my twenty-first birthday. It was handed to him on his twenty-first birthday by his father. I’m supposed to hand it down to my son. A child I don’t even have yet.
Will I ever get to experience that? Fatherhood? Do I even want to?
Yes, if it’s Jazzy doing the parenting thing along with me. Because as much of a fuckup I’ll no doubt be, she will be the perfect mother.
Standing, I collect my keys and wallet. I need to get to the lawyer’s office for this reading. I’m dreading every fucking minute of it, but I’m also curious as to what my parents left Jazzy. And about who else they mentioned in their will.
I’m the last to arrive. Sitting around a circular table are my uncle and aunt, my two cousins, and Jasmine. I spot the open seat next to her and head to it.
“Glad you could make it,” my aunt says, with a snideness in her tone.
Jazzy straightens in her chair. “His parents just died. Give him a break.”
“Who are you and why are you here?” my aunt asks.
“Meridith, that’s enough,” my uncle cuts in, sending his wife a scathing glare before turning to me. “Sorry.”
I have a solid relationship with my uncle. My aunt, not so much. My cousins, I like enough. I don’t really know them.
“Okay, we’re all here. We can get started,” Oliver Turnball, my father’s lawyer, says.
“Mr. and Mrs. Westmead had a combined will and testament in the instance that they happened to pass together,” he says.
“To Mr. Harris Westmead, we leave the Hampton estate, the Rolls Royce Wraith, and the collection of shotguns.”
My uncle nods. It’s everything that once belonged to my grandfather. It should go to his only remaining son.
“That’s it?” my aunt asks.
“That is correct, Mrs. Westmead,” Oliver says, remaining professional even though I see the pure disgust written on his face.
“To Miss Jasmine Bianchi, we leave the entirety of the jewelry collection, including all items in the safe deposit box, engagement and wedding bands.” Oliver looks to Jazzy. “Mrs. Westmead left you a letter as well,” he says before passing her a sealed envelope.
“Thank you.” Jazzy’s hand trembles as she reaches out to accept it. I place my palm on her leg under the table.
“Are you kidding me? That’s millions of dollars in jewels!” my aunt shouts. “Family heirlooms! And you’re giving them to a stranger?”
“Jasmine isn’t a stranger. She’s going to be my wife. I suggest you either leave or shut the fuck up,” I snap.
The entire room goes silent. And then my uncle stands, extending an arm in my direction. “Congratulations. I know your mother wanted this to happen,” he says.
“Thank you.” I return the gesture.
“Ah… it’s not… We’re not… I mean, I’m not…” Jazzy shakes her head.
“We are,” I tell her. “We’re keeping the engagement quiet, out of respect for my parents. They deserve to be mourned appropriately,” I add, sounding every bit the proper, snobbish, rich boy I was raised to be.
“Congrats.” This comes from my cousin, Angus.
His sister, Louise, smiles. “Welcome to the family, Jasmine.”
“Thank you,” Jazzy whispers, ducking her head and looking down at the table.
“Okay. To our nephew, Angus Westmead, we leave the Manhattan penthouse and a trust of fifteen million dollars, which he will receive when he’s twenty-five.
To our niece, Louise Westmead, we leave the Paris townhouse and a trust of fifteen million dollars, which she will receive when she is twenty-five. ”
I look to my cousins. Neither of them comments. They don’t need the money. It’s not as if they’re not wealthy already. All Westmeads are set for life ten times over. Probably more.
“Everything else, including Westmead Industries, is left to our son, Jacob Westmead,” Oliver says, looking to me. “There is also a letter for you, from your mother.” He hands me an envelope that matches Jazzy’s.
“Thank you.” I take the envelope and pocket it. No way am I ready to hear what my mother wants to say to me. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready. As of right now, her last words are yet to be said. But as soon as I read them, they’re out there. They’re over.