by Gemma Weir
“Hello Mr. Worth, I appreciate you making time to see me,” I answer politely, shaking his hand when he offers it.
“Well if you don’t mind me saying, you have grown into an absolute vision of beauty, I’m sure your great-grandfather would be immensely proud of you,” Mr. Worth gushes.
I smile noncommittally as I think that given how I spent my morning, I’m confident my great-grandfather is turning in his grave in horror.
“Please take a seat, can I get you a drink, coffee, tea, soda?” he offers, circling back behind his desk and lowering himself into his huge leather library chair.
“I’m fine thank you. I’d rather just get straight to business if that’s okay?”
His laugh is condescending and indulgent, like I’m an amusing child, and I have to clench my teeth together to stop myself from calling him on his obnoxious behavior.
“Of course, will your parents be joining us?” he asks, his gaze moving to the door as if he expects my parents to enter.
“No, my parents will not be joining us, I’m eighteen now and what I came to discuss has nothing to do with them,” I say crisply.
To the lawyer’s credit, he straightens in his chair, his body language instantly becoming professional. “Of course. My apologies, how can I be of help.”
My hand trembles slightly as I reach into my purse and pull out the envelope containing the doctor’s examination report. “Mr. Worth, as I’m sure you’re aware, my great-grandfather’s will had a lot of clauses and stipulations that I was required to adhere to in order to inherit.”
“Yes,” he says clearing his throat. “It was an unusual bequest, but those were Harold’s wishes.”
“I understand,” I say patiently. “As my great-grandfather’s lawyers and the executors of his will I’m here to make you aware that I am no longer in a position to inherit.”
Mr. Worth’s eyebrows shoot up so quickly that it’s almost comical. “I see,” he says, clearing his throat again.
“Here is a letter from my doctor, confirming my ineligibility to inherit,” I say, placing the envelope on the desk; watching as he pulls it the rest of the distance toward him, removes the letter, and reads it.
Folding my hands together in my lap, I wait silently as he reads the paperwork that confirms I’m no longer a virgin. I can’t look at him, so I scan the wall behind him, staring at the frames that hold degree certificates and other qualifications, until he clears his throat yet again and I’m forced to divert my attention back to him.
“Miss Archibald, are you sure—” he begins.
“Mr. Worth,” I say interrupting him. “My great-grandfather’s will is the most toxic thing that has ever happened to my family. I’m not entirely sure what his hope was when he wrote it, but I can confidently say that it didn’t do what he intended it would. His stipulations didn’t make me an honorable person of upstanding moral fortitude like he said it would. All his rules did was destroy my family and make me justify mine and my parents’ appalling behavior if it was in line with his wishes and in pursuit of this inheritance.”
The older man’s eyes widen but I keep speaking, needing him to understand, at least a little, why I’m here.
“If there was the option to walk away from this money I would have taken it, but he forced me into a position where he tied me to this life for another seven years. I’m confident when I say that if I continue to live for the next seven years the way I have been for the last four, there will be nothing redeemable about me left. I want to break this will. I want to be free to try to put my life back together again in some semblance of a way where I can live with myself, and I can’t do that until this money is as far away from me as physically possible. That letter is real and I have more proof should I need it, but I’m hoping that I won’t.”
Mr. Worth’s lips are downturned, his expression sad. Lifting his phone from his desk he brings it to his ear, his eyes not leaving mine as he speaks into it. “Could you ask Neville to come to my office please, I need something notarized.”
9
Carrigan
Sliding the key card into my newly acquired hotel room door lock, I push inside and close the door behind me.
It’s done.
It’s over.
Dropping my purse to the sofa I fall down after it, my legs giving way as the bravado and adrenaline I’ve been running on all day starts to dissolve. The cushions are soft and almost warm to the touch beneath me, but I can barely focus on it as my body starts to convulse.
What did I do?
What the hell did I just do?
They’ll never forgive me, or maybe they will. Maybe my parents are as disgusted by everything as I have become.
No. That’s nothing but wishful thinking, because the truth is what I did today had to happen, but the fall out is going to destroy me, my parents, and maybe even Tallulah too. I just changed all of our lives, the same way that envelope full of papers did all those years ago.
A single tear slides from eyes, rolling down my cheek and falling to my knees. With shaking fingers I touch it, rubbing the moisture between my thumb and forefinger, focusing everything on the simple movement and hoping that it might hold me together.
I made this choice and it was the right one. The first right decision I’ve made in a really long time. Now I need to wash my face, get dressed, and go to my sister’s engagement party. I just hope that she gets at least a few happy moments with her fiancé before everything goes to hell.
Smoothing the fabric of my dress down, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the long mirrors that adorn the walls. My dress is black, floor length with cap sleeves, heavily beaded, and clinging to what little curves I have. It’s probably more suited to a funeral than a party, but the color black makes me feel powerful and I need all the confidence I can get right now.
The ballroom is full of people as I march through the doorway, eyeing the crowds from left to right searching for Tallulah or Arlo or even one of their friends, Watson, Oliver. Or Carson. But I can’t spot them and instead I find my mother. The moment she sees me she pushes her way through the crowd toward me, an expression of pure rage hardening her already cosmetically altered face until she appears to be almost like an angry porcelain doll.
Sighing as silently as I can muster, I school my expression, twisting my lips into an enigmatic smile, the one my mother helped me perfect. It feels almost poetic to be using the skills she helped me perfect against her now, although I doubt she’ll see the irony of it.
“Carrigan,” she snarls, as her fingers wrap tightly around my wrist, her nails digging into my skin just hard enough for her to exert some control.
“Mother,” I reply cordially. “You look lovely as always.”
“Where the hell have you been? What happened last night? The video wasn’t there.”
Inhaling slowly, I let my eyelids fall shut and try to consider who I’d be now if I’d just ignored them and refused to do all the fucked up things they’ve had me do since the will was read. Maybe if I had, I’d just be a normal teenager instead of the calculated, conniving bitch I am now.
“Carrigan,” Mom hisses, her nails digging further into my skin.
“Do you ever sit back and consider your actions?” I ask quietly.
“What?”
“Do you ever wonder who you’d be, who we’d all be if the money had just been left to grandfather like it should have been.”
“What are you talking about? Have you been drinking? Really, it’s completely unacceptable for you to put me in this position,” Mom chirps, her tone disapproving like I’m inconveniencing her.
“I haven’t been drinking mother.”
“Then I expect an explanation as to why you did not do as you were told last night?” she demands.
“You mean why didn’t I drug and rape my sister’s fiancé?” I ask a little too casually.
Her lips curl into a menacing smile and she tips her head slightly to the side. “Dear, how dramatic a description
that is. All we’re doing is correcting a mistake, Arlo was always intended to be yours and yesterday you should have rectified that problem. Now where is the video?”
“There isn’t a video mother,” I say with a smirk. I know I shouldn’t be provoking her like this, but I just don’t seem to be able to help myself.
“What did you do?” she hisses.
“Do you consider yourself evil?”
Mom’s lips part and I think she tries to narrow her eyes at me, but the plastic surgery and Botox stops any real expression from forming.
“Because I do,” I tell her, watching her, waiting for some sign of recognition, like somehow she sees how despicable we’ve become.
She blinks slowly, sighing lightly as her mouth curves back into a smirk. “I’m not evil child, I’m motivated. I’m doing what any mother would do to secure her daughter’s future.”
I laugh, the sound cold and harsh falling from my lips. “It’s over Mother.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s over, it’s all over,” I say, yanking my arm from her grip and escaping into the crowd of people that are all turning to the stage as my sister and Arlo make their entrance.
Tallulah looks stunning in a deep red gown and Arlo looks as handsome as ever in a classic fitted suit, but it’s the way they’re looking at each other that makes an ache start in my chest. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on between them, I know they’re having sex, but until the other day I honestly thought it was all just an act. Looking at them tonight, it’s obvious it’s not.
Arlo’s arm is around her waist, holding her close like he’s terrified she might leave and he can’t bear to be without her. He keeps looking down at her, like she’s the only thing keeping him sane, and that look is filled with more love than I thought it was possible to give another person. But it’s not all him, she’s smiling too, leaning her back against his chest, knowing that he’s there, that he wouldn’t let her go. There’s a contentment in her expression that I’ve never seen before.
I’ve known for years that my sister was nothing like me, but I’ve never seen it be more evident than it is right now. She’s full of light, her smile is only for him and even though she’s clinging to his jacket she’s not holding him to her or tying him down, she just wants to be close to him because she loves him.
This isn’t an intimate moment, it’s just an innocent touch between two people who are so in love they can’t help but show it to the world. Logically I can recognize the emotion, but it doesn’t make any sense to me, I can’t understand it. Why does she love him? Why does he love her? How do they know?
I don’t think I’m capable of an emotion with as much depth as love, in fact I’m pretty sure I’m not. But if that’s true why am I jealous?
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Archibald says, calling everyone’s attention as he speaks into a microphone at the front of the stage. “I’m sure you’ll all agree that love is a truly wonderful thing. Tonight, is all about celebrating the love between my son and my beautiful soon to be daughter-in-law. Please raise your glasses and join me in congratulating the future Mr. and Mrs. Arlo and Tallulah Lexington.”
Taking a champagne flute from a passing waiter, I raise my glass and toast my sister and her not-so-fake fiancé, alongside the other couple of hundred people in the room. The envelope folded inside my clutch suddenly feels heavy and weighted, and I know I’ve done the right thing. The first right thing in far too long.
“Carrigan, we have not finished talking about your behavior,” my mother says from behind me, her voice laced with barely restrained anger.
Sighing, I spin around to face her, my glass of champagne held aloft in one hand, my clutch with the envelope held tightly in the other. “I agree, we’re not finished. But I think this is a family matter, so perhaps, you, Dad, Tallulah, Arlo and I should discuss this together.”
Before she has a chance to speak, I down my champagne and deposit the glass on the tray of yet another passing waiter. Reaching for her, I grip her wrist tightly and move, dragging her along with me, my own nails digging into her skin just like she did to me earlier. Weaving in and out of people, I smile politely as I pass, towing my mother behind me until I find my sister, her eyes widening when she spots me.
Arlo’s body language instantly changes from happy and soft, to alert and on guard, his arm circles my sister’s waist, pulling her to his side and slightly behind him. The move makes me smile and his expression becomes quizzical but guarded.
Stopping when I reach them, I smile sweetly to the older man who is congratulating them, waiting quietly as he makes small talk. He leaves a moment later and Tallulah’s gaze turns to me.
“Are you okay?” she asks, not even glancing in our mother’s direction.
“I will be.”
She nods, but doesn’t speak again and we all fall silent.
“Mom, perhaps you could give Dad a call, ask him to come here so we can all have a lovely family chat,” I suggest, releasing my grip on her as I turn to the side, placing myself in the middle with my mother to my left and Tallulah and Arlo to my right
No one speaks as my mom pulls out her cell phone and taps at the screen, lifting it to her ear and asking Dad to come to us.
He appears at her side a moment later. “What’s the meaning of this?” he demands, his voice nothing but condemnation as he sneers at my sister.
Inhaling slowly, I swallow down my rising panic and try to compose myself. This is it. This is the moment it all ends, the first truly good thing I’ve done since that godforsaken will was read.
“Tallulah,” I say, my voice cracking a little as I look at my sister. “I got you guys an engagement present.”
My twin’s lips shake a little and I can see the fear and hope in her eyes. She thinks I can be good, that I’m as much a victim of our parents as she is, but she’s wrong. I’m as guilty as they are.
Opening my clutch I slide the envelope free, unfolding it as I pass it to my sister. She reaches out and takes it from me, her hands shaking a little as she does.
“What is it?” Mom demands, stepping forward as if she intends to take the envelope from her.
“Why don’t you read it aloud,” I suggest.
Tallulah slides the single sheet of notarized paper free and scans the words, her mouth splitting into a wide smile. “This letter certifies that Miss Carrigan Prudence Archibald has failed to meet the stipulations required to meet the terms of the last will and testament of Mr. Harold Archibald the third, and as such relinquishes all claim on the inheritance.”
“What?” Mom screeches, ripping the letter from Tallulah’s hands and reading, her eyes wide and horrified as the truth of it sinks in.
“It’s all real,” I say. “You can confirm it with Mr. Worth, I told him to expect your call, but he’ll only confirm what that letter says. I am no longer the beneficiary of great-grandfather’s will. It’s over.”
The sound of my mother’s open palm connecting with my cheek, combined with her yell of anger, is loud enough to draw the attention of at least twenty people. Enough of them witness her slapping me that within fifteen minutes the entire room will know.
I don’t clutch at my face, even though I can feel the sting and heat blooming in my cheek. Instead I enjoy watching the realization dawn in my mother’s eyes that not only did she just assault me in a room full of high society, but that the money she wants more than anything else in the world won’t ever be hers.
“I think it might be time for you to leave,” Arlo says, glaring at my parents as Tallulah rushes to my side, her hand sliding into mine and squeezing lightly.
My dad just shakes his head, the disgust in his eyes as he looks at me and my twin so abhorrent that I can’t hold his gaze.
“You stupid, stupid girl,” Mom sneers. “The only thing you’ve ever had going for you was that money. Now you’re nothing.”
“Goodbye mother,” Tallulah says, her voice stronger than I could ever manag
e.
I don’t look up as my parents leave, because as much as I want to hate them, as much as I do hate them, they’re all I know. I am who they decided I would be. Everything I am is the person they molded me into and even though I know it was wrong, that they’re wrong, I can’t help that a part of me wants to run after them, to beg for forgiveness.
“You did it,” my sister whispers, awe lacing each word.
Inhaling sharply, I lift my eyes and force a brittle smile onto my lips. “It’s over. Neither of us have anything either of them want anymore.”
“Thank you,” she gushes, throwing her arms around me and pulling me into a hug, holding me tight.
I freeze, not sure what to do with her affection. I’ve done nothing to deserve it.
“This is the best day ever,” she cries, releasing me to throw herself at Arlo. He catches her, lifting her easily off the ground and spinning her in a circle as she giggles.
“Let’s get a drink and celebrate,” Arlo says, smiling at me as he lowers Tallulah to the ground, holding her against his chest.
“Yes,” Tallulah cries, “Where are the guys? We need cocktails and shots.”
“I’ll go and find them,” I offer, forcing a smile onto my lips and hoping that it looks convincing.
Launching herself from Arlo, she throws her arms around me again, circling my neck, her sweet laugh against my ear. “You did it. Thank you,” she says, her voice crackling a little.
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” I reply.
Releasing me she turns back into Arlo’s arms.
“I’ll be right back with the others,” I say, turning and blending into the groups of people. Only instead of searching for her friends I make a beeline for the exit and walk straight out, not looking back as I leave the hotel, my sister, and her misplaced thanks behind me.
10
Carrigan