by Corri Lee
“The upstairs office is ready for the reading. If you’ll follow me...”
“See you in a bit.” I kissed Blaze’s cheek and stepped away from him, just to be overruled by the lawyer.
“You’ll be coming with us, Miss Tudor. At Mrs. Valentine’s request.”
“Excuse me?”
“There’s a message for you from her. And a gift.” Panicked, I looked between the equally baffled people around me. A message? And a gift? What the actual fuck? “If you’ll please follow me.”
Feet like deadweights, I allowed myself to be led through the house and up the stairs I’d once sat and cried on. Nothing could have prepared me for this kind of surprise. Just like nothing could prepare me for what came next.
“If you’ll all take a seat. Thank you.”
Since I seemed to be in a paralysed stupor, Blaze lowered me down into an armchair in the mostly unused first floor office, and balanced on it’s arm next to me. Patrice took up two seats of a three seat couch, leaving one for her mother, Mona, who trapped me with a death stare when she entered the room after us.
“What is she doing here?”
I honestly have no fucking idea. The lawyer turned his back on us and the raging hostility hovering in the air to recover some documents from his briefcase. “Miss Tudor is here at Natasha’s request, Mona. She was quite implicit about it when we last spoke.”
“When was this?” Mona hissed.
Sighing softly, Blaze slung an arm around my shoulders and urged me to lean back with him. With him sat just a little higher than me, I could comfortably lean my head against his chest and hear his heart beating within.
It was racing. With frustration, I thought. Mona was out for blood, and it was clear that she was going to be difficult and argumentative.
“When did you speak to my daughter?”
“Roughly two weeks ago, Mona. While Blaze was in New York. She made some minor alterations to the will.”
Blaze’s pulse leapt for a few seconds. I didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d have told Natasha about his plans to propose and from her previous actions, I could guess with some certainty that she’d have egged him on to look like the dutiful declining wife who wanted nothing but his happiness. Any idiot could tell that was as genuine as cubic zirconium and if her recent alterations involved me, what was the gift she’d for left me? Poison?
“So, are we ready?”
The general murmur of assent pushed the lawyer into a low, bellicose ramble.
“I, Natasha Evelyn Valentine nee Smythe, being of sound mind and judgement do hereby declare this my final will and testament, to be read allowed by my lawyer and executor, William Sargent, on the day of my funeral. As per promises I have made in the past, in the event of my death, I make these final demands.
“My collection of vintage dresses is to be auctioned and the proceeds donated to a charity for multiple sclerosis. They are no good to me now and I would not wish this ungodly disease on anyone. Please support this decision and see that they are sold for a good price.
“To my husband, Blaze Valentine, I bequeath the majority of my estate and the letter enclosed with this will. I was a horrible burden on you and caused you many years of pain. Truth be told, I was knowingly selfish and my letter will explain to you why. I only hope that Emmeline loved you enough to wait for you, and that your lives can now be bound without restriction. I wish you both nothing more than the happiness you deserve and apologise for having kept you apart.”
The lawyer, William, passed Blaze the aforementioned letter. It was in an antique looking papyrus envelope and held shut with a lavish wax seal. Without delay, he broke the crest free and scanned the letter quickly. Every sentence he read, his left eyebrow rose a little higher until he reached the end, blinked and said, “Well then. Carry on.”
“What does it say?”
He shot an icy look across the room and tightened his arm around me. “None of your god damn business, Mona. Carry on, Bill.”
Flustered, William skimmed through to refind his place and coughed to even out his voice.
“In addition to my estate, I entrust Blaze with the management of the remaining assets outlined in this will. All that I own is now under his jurisdiction. I emphasise that this means everything, from the light bulbs to that beloved piano he reveres. You’ve earned this, my love.”
“The following codicil was written earlier this month. It addresses you, Miss Tudor.” Numb, I nodded and twisted my hands in my lap. What could possibly have been important enough to leave in such a monumental document?
“To Emmeline Tudor, in the company of my family and husband, I leave you my sincerest apologies and my wedding ring. Of course, I don’t expect you to wear it. However, it was never rightfully mine and it seems only fair to pass it on to the woman who loves my husband enough to wait. You’re an incredibly patient, noble and beautiful creature. Your heart is far purer than mine. Take care of him. He deserves happiness far more than you could understand.”
Her ring was platinum and engraved with Arabic script too small to read. Made for such slim fingers, it was unusually heavy to hold in my hand. I suspected nobody else would feel that weight, and that I detected it only because I knew what luring Blaze into a dishonest marriage had really cost her.
“The next part is...” William hesitated and lowered the document slowly. “It’s a little personal. I feel I should warn you that—”
“Get on with it, Sargent.”
He bristled and squared his shoulders to continue.
“To my mother and sister, Mona and Patrice Smythe, you know your lack of faith in me earns you nothing, though you undoubtedly thought I was too spineless to carry through with my side of our wager. You never believed that Blaze would stay with me to the bitter end and now you’ve been proven wrong, I hope you regret under-estimating me.
“When Father left his fortune to me, I know you thought you’d somehow inveigle it from me. I subsided your expensive tastes and provided you both comfortable lives while you contested his decision to sign the house to my name. You never understood that he knew I was the most trustworthy of the three of us, and that he knew you’d fritter away the fruits of his labour on extravagance. You’d have bankrupted us. Marrying Blaze was the only way to ensure that you’d never find a way to prise a single penny from my cold, dead hands.
“You took him for granted. You placed too much value on breeding and failed to see how utterly wonderful he is. You shallow, impertinent fools. Every day, I’ve regretted how I had to win him over. Every day, I’ve lamented how I had to keep him tied down. For suffering that fate, he deserves it all and I sincerely pray he doesn’t continue to make your lives as easy as I have. You’re in for a shock, now reality is about to slap you in the face.
“To my nephew, Thomas, I bequeath a half-a-million pound trust fund to be released to him on his eighteenth birthday. On that day, he will receive a letter from me, explaining how manipulative you really are. He will be offered a choice; loyalty to an evil family or the reward of masses of cash to permanently disown you. I’ll assure his decision is legally binding. Bear in mind he’ll be a rebellious pisshead student. Good luck with that.
“However, I’m not enough of a cow to leave you with nothing to remember me by. With this will, you each have an envelope containing the details of bank accounts I have set up in your names. I’d love to say it’s as simple as handing them over and sending you off with a wad of cash each, but it’s not.
“As the main beneficiary of my estate, it is no longer my money to give away. Your access to those accounts will be decided by Blaze—”
“What?!” William and Blaze smirked at each other as he continued to read.
“—though given what he’s just read, I doubt he feels too generous. Armed with the truth, he’d be well within his rights to deny your pleas and ignore my suggestion. If you convince him otherwise, only he knows how much sits in those accounts for you.
“I’m sure he’ll d
istribute the wealth fairly. If he doesn’t, it’s no longer my problem. From my perpetual position off your mortal coil, I leave five words of wisdom. ‘You reap what you sow’.”
“And that’s the lot.” Oh so casually, William turned to pull an envelope from his briefcase and produced a fountain pen from his breast pocket. “Blaze, if you will, this is everything you need to sign to take over her estate. She was most insistent that everything is turned over as quickly as possible.”
“Hold on.” Mona shot up to her feet and started tapping one restlessly on the thin carpet. I’d never seen so much violent yet so strictly contained rage encapsulated in a single person. “Are you actually telling me that this tramp gets more from my daughter than I do?”
“Well, like the ring wasn’t already enough...” Blaze took the pen and started to scrawl his signature across the stack of papers. “Once we’re married, she’ll share everything I do. So... yeah.” He nodded and jutted out his bottom lip. “I guess you could say she’s getting everything and you’re getting sweet F.A.”
“We’ll contest it.” Patrice hauled up to stand by her mother. “We’ll contest the will. This house, at the very least, should be given to us. We fought for it once before.”
“I don’t want the fucking house. You can have it.”
“Really?”
“Sure.” He grinned wickedly and picked up the two remaining envelopes left by Natasha. “At a price. Knowing how much is in these bank accounts, I’d gladly sell you the house for the entire sum of both. Of course, you’d have to get jobs to pay the bills and sacrifice the high-lives Natasha gave you.”
The frisson of alarm from the two women was lightning-fast but super charged. I’d assumed that Natasha came from a background of wealth but it seemed as though I’d misjudged how it had come about.
Until her father’s death, she and her sisters had been kept. Mona had most likely gone from a home with her rich parents straight into a marriage with a rich husband and had never had to work a day in her life. Her daughters were an extension of that lifestyle.
“Of course, you could take the money and continue to live in the manner you’re accustomed to for as long as possible.”
Mona took a daring step towards us and eyed the envelopes. “There’s enough in these accounts to buy the house?”
Blaze smiled sharply. “Enough to satisfy me, yes. I left my mother behind in Wales to move here; I wouldn’t undervalue it. So I suppose what it comes down to is what means more to you: sentimentality or Natasha’s monetary value.”
It didn’t seem possible that he could have so swiftly negotiated the transfer of assets, but he had. Without even really thinking about it, Mona and Patrice snatched their envelopes up from the desk and sealed their decision to favour money over whatever of Natasha’s residual energy was living within the walls of the house.
My heart sank a little, having done my best to consider their feelings since the moment I stood over Natasha’s dead body. I’d been careful to stand back as much as possible through what should have been a time of incredible misery and loss.
Just to find out they didn’t really care. Not at all.
“I believe my wife-to-be has something to tell you.” Pinching my leg, Blaze tapped the pen on the newly signed deed for the house to draw my attention there and, with his eyes, pierced a message into me that was impossible to misinterpret. This is mine now. They’re not welcome. Make them leave. Telling them himself would leave them seething but having me deliver the dismissal packed an extra punch.
For the massive injustice done to him, I was happy to straighten myself out and train my gaze between their heads, not dignifying them with eye contact while I said, “This is private property. You’re trespassing. Get out of my house before I have you forcibly removed.”
The added insult of insinuated possession must have been exactly what Blaze had wanted from me. He howled with a giddying kind of cackle as Mona and Patrice fled the building, not skipping a single step until their gripes and footsteps could be heard crossing the gravel driveway outside. I couldn’t decide if this new menacing side of him was something I could handle, after only ever being around the gentle, kind man who did nothing but sacrifice little pieces of himself for anyone who asked.
He had a darker persona hiding. I’d glimpsed it in his frosty words to Natasha after the evil mother was out of earshot on our first meeting. There was a lot of resentment bubbling within him and he could justify it, even if he wasn’t entirely aware of that.
A few John Hancock’s and he owned all he’d earned. The struggle I’d once imagined we’d have to endure for years—one that had been so huge it had separated us for three months—had drawn to an end. The only remnants of Natasha in our lives were her former home, her piano, and her bank account. We were free.
Yet I’d never felt like more of a prisoner.
“Come rest with me, cupcake.”
Blaze lifted my laptop from my thighs and hoisted me up from the couch, jostling me from slumber. My head had been so crammed full of confusion since we’d left Natasha’s—our—house, and I’d spent the rest of the day making good tracks towards burning myself out so I’d be too exhausted to think anything over.
My stomach had been too twisted up to eat, my body too weary to walk. Once we’d gotten back to the hotel, I’d crawled under a blanket on the couch and invented work to do.
It was all so messed up. What bothered me most was that will reading, but the altercation with Tallulah had been a head-fuck in it’s own right. The ground didn’t feel as steady under foot as it should have now there was nothing in the world making my relationship with Blaze a taboo. Maybe that had been part of the thrill.
“What’s on your mind?” He carried me to bed and perched next to me, reading me in his weird way I’d always found confounding and a little irritating. I’d always tried to be an enigma; a desensitised contradiction who had enough heart to be attractive but kept the rest so well hidden it was impossible to access my true emotions. I’d built my psyche up in a way that made it impossible for anyone to break through. He’d seen through me and found the chinks in my armour from the word ‘go’.
“Nothing,” I lied. “It’s just been one of those days, you know.”
“No bullshit between us, Emmeline. Never.”
I didn’t know why I kept trying to outwit him. It was pointless.
With a thousand questions in my mind, articulating any of them was hard work when I was tired. So I went with the one that came easiest. “Honestly? I want to know how much money was in Mona and Patrice’s bank accounts.”
“Hmm.” Blaze’s face became blank, just as it did any time he was about to avoid telling an outright lie by dodging around it. “Not as much as I might have made out.”
“What happened to ‘no bullshit’?” Pissy, I crossed my arms. “Don’t be evasive with me. I can’t stand it. I detest it.”
“All right...” Sighing, Blaze matched my pose and had the grace to look awkward. “Natasha left them five-hundred apiece. And I don’t mean five-hundred thousand.”
About halfway through that sentence, my mind quit. “What?”
“They bullied her, Emmeline. Emotionally, they made her feel an inch tall. Knowing how little they thought of her, she thought her revenge would be best served as cold as the park benches they’ll be sleeping on.”
Jesus Christ. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“I didn’t know.” Managing a little smile, Blaze reached into his back pocket and passed me the letter he’d been given at the reading. Folded up roughly in quarters, I thought it was a horrible way to treat what was basically a relic. Horrible and disrespectful. “There was a lot I didn’t know until today.”
Natasha’s final message to Blaze read like a love letter, which was enough to make me want to continue the maltreatment by tearing it up. Getting over it, I paid attention to the words rather than the tone I was imagining, and realised it was basically a written confession.
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Written on their wedding day, Natasha admitted that she wasn’t as ill as she’d made out. She admitted that her intention was to keep him chained to her and she explained why.
“They had a bet on you?”
“Yeah.” Not looking even slightly bothered, Blaze nodded and picked at his fingernails. “Mona never believed I was man enough to stick with Natasha through her illness. She thought I’d get bored of the nobility, probably. Tasha knew better. She had faith in me.”
Shaking my head, I read and reread the passage where she explained how she’d first gotten her diagnosis and been told by her supposedly loving mother that no man would ever want a disabled wife. Desperate to prove her wrong, Natasha went to Blaze with her ‘dying wish’, knowing only too well that he was the kind of man who’d make it happen for her, especially as he felt bad about their one night stand.
Disgruntled by her choice of partner, Mona and Patrice had wagered their inheritances that Blaze would leave her high and dry. Natasha had fought the divorce so vehemently to defend his honour and her money. She never counted on him falling in love with me so deeply.
“When she realised you’d found a way to detach from her, she... Her suicide was almost a mercy mission, wasn’t it?” Dying then and there was the only way to win that bet. She loved Blaze that much.
“I think she knew it was coming,” Blaze agreed. “Going to William while we were away, after I’d told her my plans to propose because you were ready for it...” He sighed heavily. “It’s possible that she may have been planning to kill herself for a while.”
“My God.” I felt sick. Even if it had only been a dream, I’d made malicious plans to murder the woman whose intentions toward my lover had only ever been sweet and overtly generous. What she’d done for him was way over the top, but it screamed out that she really had loved him.