Cathy flinched at his words. A woman I didn’t recognize sat to the man’s right, sorting through the papers in front of her, ignoring the exchange.
“Your job, Mrs. DeWeese,” the man continued, “as her co-guardian, is over. And your husband’s guardianship was over the second he made contact with Sandra Whitmeyer.”
Beside me, Dean Fisher cleared his throat. Cathy straightened up, and her face softened when she saw me. “Lexi, darling.”
I raised a single brow and simply stared. Who was she kidding with this multiple personality stuff?
“So nice to see you,” she continued. “I hope you’re rested. How was the Halloween party last night?” She spoke as if we’d had a children’s costume party, complete with bobbing apples and zombie cupcakes.
“It was fine.” I glanced sideways at Dean Fisher, who smiled in return.
The man who had just been receiving the earful from Cathy stood and made his way over to me. “Lexi, I’m David Finland.”
The unknown woman followed. “And I’m Patricia Long. We were attorneys to your father.”
I shook both of their hands, but remained silent. I was surrounded by four people: two lawyers I’d never met, Cathy DeWeese—who crossed both arms and pursed her lips until they disappeared—and Dean Fisher, who most likely knew more about my life than I did up until about six weeks ago.
“Lexi, these attorneys are here to read your father’s final will,” Cathy said. She reached a hand out and smoothed my hair as if I were a Golden Retriever. “I’d like to be here for you, sweetie. Can I get—”
“Sorry I’m late.”
We all turned to find Coach Williams entering the boardroom. Jonas was at his back. “Me too.” He winked at me.
“The two of you cannot be here,” Cathy insisted. “This is a matter to be discussed with Lexi by her attorneys and her legal guardian. You were not invited.”
I faced Cathy. “Um… actually, I invited them.”
“But—”
“Mr. Finland, Ms. Long, I have no idea what you’re about to reveal to me. Maybe you can tell me who should be present.”
Mr. Finland looked from Cathy to me without so much as a twitch in his facial expression. “The only person that is required for this reading is you, Miss Matthews. But you may ask anyone you wish to be present—or not be present, as the case may be.” He paused for a moment, throwing a quick side glance at Cathy before adding, “At least for part of it. Your father made it perfectly clear that you were fully capable of handling what happens next.”
Cathy flashed an uneasy smile at me. “Darling, you need me here. I can help you make sense of the many secrets your father kept from you all these years.”
My hands clenched into fists. I was sure my fingernails were leaving deep indentations in my palms. “Cathy, while I appreciate your tenacity…”—out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jonas mouthing the word “tenacity” and counting the syllables on his fingers—“…this is something I need to do on my own.” Or with people I trust one hundred percent. “I’m sure you can understand. This has been a hard time—”
Before I could even finish my sentence, Cathy growled a heavy sigh and stormed past us all and out the door. Jonas chuckled. The attorneys remained expressionless, which was starting to freak me out a little.
The dean touched my arm lightly. “Lexi, I’ll be in my office. I only know what your father wanted me to know. I am happy to share those things with you once you’ve heard everything these lovely people have to tell you.”
“Thank you, Dean Fisher,” I said.
“And Lexi…” The dean’s face softened. “I’m sincerely sorry that you had to learn about your creation from anyone other than your father. It was always his desire to share everything with you himself. He just… waited too long. I do know this, though: your father was unbelievably proud of you, and the last time he and I spoke, I assured him that you were ready.”
While the dean’s words would normally have made me cry for my late father, today my eyes remained dry. I was ready to know everything.
After Dean Fisher exited, I stared at the empty doorway a moment longer, hoping Jack would appear. When he didn’t, I swallowed hard and faced the two lawyers. “I would like Mr. Williams and Mr. Whitmeyer to stay.”
Ms. Long’s eyes widened. “Did you say ‘Whitmeyer’?”
“That’s right. Jonas stays.”
Without another word, Ms. Long closed the door, then returned to the other end of the table, motioning for us all to have a seat. I took the chair next to Mr. Finland, and Jonas sat next to me.
“Lexi, this is a copy of your father’s—Peter Roslin’s—Last Will and Testament.” I took the folder holding the thin document with a shaky hand. “And these”—he held up a second bound document, the thickness of two Harry Potter books—“are copies of trusts and other notarized documents that support and substantiate what’s written in Mr. Roslin’s will.”
Jonas and I traded wide-eyed looks. My leg was shaking uncontrollably under the table, and I drilled my fingers into the spot over my wildly beating heart. “Mr. Finland…” My voice cracked. Jonas pressed a gentle hand to my knee to stop my bobbing leg. “Before we go any further, can you give me the short version of what you’re about to tell me? I’m freaking out here.” I slid my hand into Jonas’s and squeezed, as if bracing for a major medical procedure.
Mr. Finland sat back. With his elbows on the arms of the chair, he steepled his fingers to his chin. “Miss Matthews, I’m here to tell you that you have inherited Wellington Boarding School… among other things.”
Jonas and I gasped at the same time.
“Come again?” I sat up straighter.
“The fact that you have inherited Wellington Boarding School is only the beginning. Ms. Long is here to explain the rest.”
Chapter Six
“I can’t run a boarding school.” And I didn’t want to. “This is crazy.” My voice cracked.
Jonas and I stood just outside the boardroom. After an hour, we had taken a break from the lawyerly meeting so that I could make sense of what I had learned so far and gather my wits before I heard more. Mr. Finland had read the will. In the midst of all the legalese was the basic message that I was now sole heir to everything my dad owned. That included Wellington Boarding School, several houses around the world, half of a house here in Kentucky, and, of course, money.
A cold sweat broke out across my neck as I stared up at Jonas’s calm expression. I held up my two shaking hands.
“Look at me. Do I look like I’m capable of what they just told me? I’m a kid.” I didn’t want to be responsible for teaching cloned humans to use unnatural abilities—to mindread, mindspeak, control actions, or whatever else they could do. Not to mention the responsibility of honing the medical healing capabilities these clones might have. And what if these clones turned out to be more like Sandra? I couldn’t even think about that right now.
After allowing me to rant for several minutes, Jonas rubbed my arms in an apparent attempt to get some circulation going. “I’ve seen you in action, remember? You are capable of anything you set that mind to.” He tapped a finger to my temple.
“Did you listen to the rest of that will? I’ve been left some kind of trust fund that I’m in charge of. What was my dad thinking?”
“He was thinking he would be alive long enough to make sure you knew what to do, but in the event that he wasn’t, he made sure there were people around to advise you.”
“Like who? Who are we talking about? Those attorneys I just met? Cathy DeWeese? Dad left Dr. John DeWeese as my co-guardian, for crying out loud. My father may have loved me, but he obviously didn’t know who he could trust any more than I do.”
“That’s not why he chose John as your guardian. In fact, he never expected John to advise you or take care of you.” Coach Williams’s voice startled me. I hadn’t heard him return.
“What makes you say that?”
“Your father met with me the
day after he spoke at the Association of International Physicians dinner. He thought someone was following him, and he wanted me to know that if anything happened to him, he had arranged for John DeWeese to be your legal guardian. But he warned me that if that were ever to happen, I would need to watch over you more closely than ever before.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your father believed in the old adage, ‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.’ He thought that by bringing John DeWeese into the fold—by making him your co-guardian, a gesture of trust—that John would hang himself, so to speak. Your father knew John had been meeting with Sandra. I don’t know how he knew, but he knew. Your dad just didn’t count on dying before your eighteenth birthday. I’m sure he hoped to catch John in his secrets.”
“So you’re saying he gambled with my life?”
“Maybe a little, but I was watching. You were seventeen years old, after all—not a child. And Jack was looking out for you. He might not have known to keep an eye on his own father, but he was keeping an eye out for anyone who might harm you.”
A knot formed in my stomach at the mention of Jack. “What are you saying?”
“Jack came to me shortly after your father died, and after you had discovered that you were a clone of Sandra Whitmeyer. He figured out that I was ex-FBI and questioned what I was doing there. I knew, then, that he would let nothing happen to you, no matter who the threat turned out to be.”
I drilled two fingers into my temple. “What about Cathy DeWeese?”
“Your father believed that Cathy and her brother, Roger Wellington, had always had different agendas. And from what I’ve seen, they definitely have unique motives for being at Wellington. But I don’t think they want to do experiments on you. Your father would have told me, or removed them himself, if he ever thought they meant you harm. I think they just want to be a part of using the school and the clones for the betterment of medicine.”
I wasn’t convinced. Dad’s track record spoke for itself. But for now, I would keep Roger and Cathy “closer.” “You say they have unique motives?”
Jonas rubbed the spot on the back of his neck where I had recently removed the tracker from the base of his skull. He was taking in Coach’s and my words, but he remained quiet.
“I’m only speculating here, but instead of keeping your medical healing abilities a secret, I think Cathy and Roger want to exploit them—to use them for financial gain.”
This didn’t surprise me. Cathy DeWeese was a walking advertisement for Coco Chanel and Valentino Garavani. She screamed wealth, and that takes a lot of money.
Jonas tapped his lips before finally speaking. “Roger Wellington is the current president of the boarding school. The school bears his name. Does Lexi’s inheritance change this?”
“That’s up to Lexi. I think that once she hears about the rest of what she’s inherited, she’ll know that she has the power to do what she wishes with the school, and so much more.”
Tight muscles were slowly taking up residence in my neck and between my shoulder blades. “I guess I need to hear the rest, then.” Could I handle hearing more?
Jonas’s hands drifted up to my shoulders and began to rub. I’m here. I’ll help you. We’ll get through this together.
I nodded. But as much as I appreciated Jonas being there—and I did—the person I really wanted was Jack.
Jonas and I took our seats while Coach informed the attorneys we were ready to proceed.
Mr. Finland returned to the head of the table and sat, but Ms. Long stood across from me and wrung her hands.
“Is something wrong, Ms. Long?” I asked.
The attorney pulled a one-sheet document from her stack and handed it to Mr. Finland. “This document is an affidavit, written and signed by your father, witnessed by me, and notarized by a member of my staff. It directs you to hear what I am about to tell you… alone.” The way she said the word “alone” sent a chill down my spine. “After you hear the information, you can decide whom to share it with.”
“Okay,” I practically stuttered.
Coach and Mr. Finland immediately walked toward the door. Jonas leaned down and kissed the side of my head. It’s going to be okay.
The intimacy in his touch felt wrong, but the smoothness of his mindspeak comforted me at the same time. Jonas was giving me what Jack had refused to this morning.
I shook off the feelings of guilt. I had enough to deal with without allowing those useless feelings in.
Ms. Long settled into her chair before pushing another piece of paper across the table.
I glanced down at a list of what appeared to be names of banks and other institutions. Some I had heard of, others I hadn’t. Beside each one was a string of numbers—account numbers. “What’s this?”
“This is a list of accounts where your father accumulated funds and investments before he died. Only a select few people know how to access these accounts. They require both passwords and DNA identification.”
“‘Select’ people?”
“That’s right. I don’t know how to access the accounts. I only know who does.”
My brain began to spin out of control. Who would Dad have possibly trusted with this knowledge? I stared across the table at Ms. Long. “Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to guess?” I was suddenly unable to keep the irritation from my voice as a strength from deep inside me surfaced.
“Only one person knows how to access the accounts, but she cannot access the accounts without you.”
“Who?” I dug my fingernails into the wood of the table, bracing for what was coming.
“Alyson Roslin.”
I closed my eyes, bowing my head, and a cold sweat washed over my body. After a deep breath, I looked back up at Ms. Long. “You’re telling me the only way to access my inheritance is through my mother? And you said the accounts require a specific DNA? I’m guessing mine?”
“That is correct. She is also the owner of the other half of the property here in Kentucky.”
My mother and I now co-owned the safe house where I found her two weeks ago. Perfect.
I stared down at a list of twenty or so bank accounts. “How much?”
Ms. Long stared back at me. I studied her. Just when I thought her expression had remained unreadable during this entire reveal, I noticed a slight twitch in her jaw and the tiniest hint of sweat droplets along her hairline. I cocked my head. “How much money is in these accounts?”
Without breaking eye contact, she said, “As of nine this morning, these accounts totaled 3.2 billion dollars.”
The room began to spin. Dark spots clouded my vision. I tried to pull in air, but couldn’t. Pressure closed in around my neck. I couldn’t breathe. Jonas, I managed. Help me. I clawed at my throat.
Jonas pushed through the boardroom doors, but Ms. Long was already at my side. “Miss Matthews, are you okay?” She grabbed a pitcher of water and poured me a glass. “Here.” She tipped the glass against my lips.
I gasped, shoving the glass and her hands away. The glass hit the floor with a thunk, spilling the contents.
Jonas grabbed my shoulders, spinning my seat so that I faced him. “What did you do to her?” he yelled at the lawyer.
“Nothing. I—”
“Apparently not nothing. Lexi…” He squatted before me. “Breathe. In… out…” He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as if to show me how.
Finally, I sucked in. The air stung my throat.
“That’s it. Nice and slow.” Though his voice was calm, his brows knitted together. He sat in the chair beside me, keeping both hands on my knees as I continued to force breaths in and out. “Want to tell me what just happened?”
I inhaled and shook my head.
“You’re very pale. Have you had enough for one day?”
I shook my head again. “I’m okay,” I whispered. “Can you give me one more minute with Ms. Long? Then I think I’d like a break.”
Jonas hesitated, but sto
od to leave. “I’ll be right outside the door.”
When the doors were closed again, I turned to Ms. Long and swallowed hard. “I just want to know why,” I said in a hoarse voice. I also wanted to know how, but that seemed less important at the moment.
“Why?” Ms. Long repeated. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“Why did my father accumulate so much?”
“Oh.” The lawyer pursed her lips until they practically disappeared. “I’m simply the messenger. I would assume only your mother knows that.”
“My mother?” I stood abruptly, causing my chair to roll backward.
“That’s right. I’m told your mother and father divorced when you were young, but remained very close. Since she’s the one who knows how to access the accounts…”
I didn’t feel the need to hash out family drama in a boardroom, but apparently I was going to be forced to meet with the woman who had deserted me when I was young. I ran my tongue over my parched lips. More questions scrolled through my mind than I knew what to do with. “How many people know the size of my inheritance?”
“Two: me, and now you.” She paused a moment. “Your mother knows that the inheritance is sizable, but for her protection, your father decided it was best to tell as few people as possible until the right time.”
I glanced down at Ms. Long’s hands as she wrung them at her waist. Her pupils were dilated. “You’re scared. Why?”
I couldn’t help but think of Marci. My dad had trusted the journalist with information. How much information? I had no idea, but she had been frightened the last time I saw her here at Wellington.
Just before she was murdered on the University of Kentucky’s campus.
“Miss Matthews, my firm protects a lot of information for our clients, but the security measures surrounding this case are enough to make even the strongest a little skittish. There are instructions in place in the event something happens to me… or you.” Her hands shook as she pretended to organize the documents in front of her. She looked back up at me. “I’m worried about you. You’re young. And your reaction to the news…”
Mindsurge (Mindspeak Book 3) Page 5