Tristan #2
When I can’t delay the inevitable any longer, I leave the house and climb into my car.
For the same reason, I rejected my driver’s offer to take me to the will reading. I need to be behind the wheel myself. I can’t be a passenger—not so soon after the crash.
The will reading is scheduled to take place at Thorne Enterprises. My father would’ve preferred it that way. His will may be dividing his assets among his next of kin, but we all know it has nothing to do with family.
He’s stipulating the future of his company. This, like everything else, is business.
That shouldn’t surprise me, nor upset me. My father was always a focused, practical man. But the twinge I feel in my gut is inevitable.
When I arrive at the building, an assistant takes me up to a conference room on the tenth floor.
Most of my brothers are already there. Reid paces up and down in front of the large windows. Gabriel is seated at the table, looking as solemn as ever, and next to him, Beckett. Only Dominic and my mother are missing.
A few of our family’s lawyers are seated opposite Gabriel and Beckett, going through files. I take a seat next to my brothers, exchanging a glance with Reid, still pacing restlessly in front of the windows.
There’s silence in the room as we wait for my mother and Dominic to arrive. None of us seem to want to talk. We haven’t been all that close since we were kids, and my father’s death certainly hasn’t brought us closer.
After what feels like an eternity, my mother and Dominic come through the door and take their seats at the table. My mother’s eyes are red-rimmed, like she was recently crying. Dominic places a gentle hand on her shoulder briefly before sitting down.
I expect the lawyers to get started, but they don’t. Confused, I turn to Beckett. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“Apparently, this isn’t everyone named in the will.” He shrugs, looking just as lost as I am. “Can’t get started until we’re all here.”
I frown. I can’t imagine who else my father would’ve named. I have no aunts or uncles, no cousins from his side of the family. Maybe it’s someone from my mother’s side.
Reid wanders over to sit down beside me. He leans in close. “How are you holding up?”
I shrug. “Not too bad, considering. You?”
He just shakes his head. Then he gestures over at Gabriel, who’s staring out the windows, his gaze glassy.
“I think this is fucking with his head,” Reid says. “He doesn’t look so good.”
Taking in my eldest brother’s distant stare and the dark circles under his eyes, I can’t help but agree.
It’s been five years since Gabriel lost his wife in a freak accident. Losing someone else in such a similar, sudden way… it can’t be good for him mentally.
Peyton isn’t in the room today. She must be with her nanny.
“What do you think he put in there?” Reid asks, nodding toward the folders in front of the lawyers.
“I’d assume that he put Tristan down as CEO,” Beckett chimes in from my other side.
“Naturally,” Reid agrees quietly. “But—”
“I don’t know,” I cut in, keeping my voice down like the other two. “I don’t know if he left us any controlling interest.”
“What makes you say that?” Reid sounds taken aback, like the thought had never occurred to him.
“I’m not sure he trusted any of us enough to take over for him.” My father was a closed-off, detached man, focused solely on his own work. Nothing was ever right by his standards. I wouldn’t be surprised if none of us became CEO.
“It should be you,” Reid says decisively. Gabriel, listening in, nods, as does Beckett. I look over at Dominic, but he doesn’t seem to have heard us.
“It’s always been you,” Beckett says. “From day one.”
I shake my head and run a hand through my hair restlessly, unable to share their confidence.
The door opens again, sparing me from having to respond. I thought we were the only ones who were going to be present for the will reading. I frown as I turn in my seat.
To my instant confusion and dismay, Chloe Dawson walks into the room, her head held high. She takes the seat at the table opposite me, her cold, gray stare meeting mine for an instant.
“What’s she doing here?” I demand. The lawyers ignore me, talking together in quiet voices.
Chloe’s parents, Vincent and Annabelle Dawson, file into the room after their daughter and take seats to either side of her.
Vincent Dawson, the CEO of MediaSphere, looks far more like his daughter than her mother does.
He has the same dark brown hair, the same sharp jawline.
Vincent’s hair is thinning at the temples, and his eyes are a dark brown rather than the cool gray of Chloe’s, but other than that, it’s easy to tell that she’s his daughter.
Her mother looks less like her, but I can still see traces of Annabelle in Chloe’s features and in the touches of auburn in her hair.
“What are they doing here?” I repeat, agitated.
It’s my mother who answers me. She doesn’t look up as she rummages in her purse. “They’re supposed to be here, Tristan.”
“But I thought—”
Before I can finish my sentence, one of the lawyers clears his throat. I fall silent, confused and fuming. Why the hell would the Dawsons be here for this? Are they somehow named in the will? It makes no sense.
One of the lawyers folds his hands on the table. “Let’s begin, shall we?”
Everyone assembled nods, sitting up straighter. I force myself to tear my gaze away from Chloe.
“We’re gathered for the reading of the last will and testament of the late Julian Thorne,” says the lawyer. “To begin with, it was the deceased’s wishes that his estate go to his widow, Mrs. Camille Thorne.”
Dominic lays a hand on my mother’s shoulder as she dabs her eyes gently with a handkerchief.
We all saw this coming. The deed to my parents’ city apartment, as well as their estate outside of the confines of downtown, belonged to my father.
It only makes sense that it should be transferred to my mother now, so that she can continue living there.
“His collection of automobiles will be divided amongst his sons,” the lawyer continues. “His vacation properties in Anguilla and Grand Cayman are bequeathed to Gabriel and Dominic, respectively.”
I see Dominic blink in surprise at that. Of all of us, he had the hardest time getting along with our father when he was alive. I’m sure he didn’t expect to receive much in the will, let alone a vacation home.
“In the matter of Mr. Thorne’s shares in his company, Thorne Enterprises, they will be divided evenly among his five sons, with Tristan stepping into the role of CEO.”
I let out a breath as Reid reaches out to pat me on the shoulder. Finally, the question that has burned in the back of my head for years is answered. My father trusted me with his company. He thought I was fit to follow in his footsteps. All of my fears—all of my doubts—were wrong.
I’ll get the chance to lead Thorne Enterprises.
Despite the hollow feeling in my chest and my uncertainty over the Dawsons’ presence, relief creeps through me. Whatever else happens in here, I can handle it.
But before I can settle into the warm feeling, and before my brothers can finish their murmured congratulations, the lawyer keeps talking. We all fall silent.
“That is to say, the position of CEO of Thorne Enterprises will be handed down to Tristan Thorne… if the beneficiary agrees to legally wed Ms. Chloe Dawson.”