than my favorite holiday,” my grandfather started. “For over a hundred years, our two families have been at odds, and today, they become one.”
“Grayson, good to see you again.” DA Miller sidled next to me, arms crossed, a drink in one hand.
It wasn’t odd for him to be there; he was invited by my grandfather, after all.
“And you,” I said, eyes still on the stage.
“Everything is ready, the police are on standby…assuming you come through on your end of the bargain.”
I felt DA Miller turn and look at me.
Come through?
This plan was only trust.
I had to trust Lottie, my mother, three kids I’d barely spoken to. Trust that somewhere Story was alive. But if everything went right, tonight two empires would fall, and in their ashes…we would rise.
As my grandfather droned on, my mother clandestinely shooed away servants. His guards had left him—fearful of whatever the triplets had whispered in their ear.
The small window had opened, it was now or never.
I turned, looking DA Miller in the eyes. “We will.”
He raised his drink to me, and went to talk to someone across the lawn just as two of the triplets went on stage.
On fucking stage.
That’s when it started to go to shit.
I put my fingers to my temple. “What are they doing?”
“Tonight, over a decade’s worth of work is realized—” My grandfather paused mid-sentence, spotting Jo.
“Hey, Grandpa,” Jo said. She pointed down at Kell on the lawn, who held up a phone. “Check it out, we’re gonna go so viral.”
“Josephine,” my grandfather gritted.
“Ew. Please don’t call me that.”
For a moment, Jo had Lynette and my grandfather so completely distracted, they didn’t see Charles behind them.
“Okay, it’s a challenge, Gramps. Do it with me.”
My grandfather exhaled, nostrils flared. He started to turn, to look for his guards, maybe, and I was certain in that second everything was going to go to shit.
Then Jo ripped up her shirt.
Flashing our fucking grandfather.
“It’s called the Alabama challenge. Or in your case, the Hapsburg challenge.”
“Oh my—” Lynette covered her eyes, turning away.
My grandfather was stunned, fucking stunned. Then he gripped Jo and yanked her shirt down, thrusting her toward the edge of the stage. I couldn’t hear the words he spoke in her ear, but I could imagine them.
In that split second, Charles reached into his pocket, before spinning the opposite direction and disappearing off backstage.
Did he get them?
“Hashtag Hapsburg,” Jo yelled as she dashed down the stairs.
My grandfather stared after her like he wanted to burn her to ashes on the spot.
I don’t know why I expected any kind of finesse from three triplets who’d grown up semi-orphaned in a world of excess and debauchery. They were like Abigail at that age…but worse.
Lynette raised the champagne. “Kids,” she said, laughing uneasily. “Always so unpredictable…”
My grandfather continued. “As I was saying…” He droned on about legacies and dynasties, and in less than a minute, the triplets were at my side.
“What the fuck was that—”
Something heavy and weighted fell into my pocket—a coin?
No fucking way.
“That was us motherfucking slaying this donkey.” Charles opened his palm, showing the remaining three coins. “Check out deez nuts.” He stuck out his tongue just as I slammed his hand shut before anyone could see.
“Did we go viral, though?” Jo asked, slurring her words.
“I didn’t record anything,” Keller said, deadpan.
“Dammit, Kell, our parents are dead now. We have to think about our futures. I’m trying to turn this family into something respectable.” She started giggling uncontrollably. “We can’t lose the farm too.”
Fuck.
She’s high.
“Are you all high right now?”
They paused, then burst out laughing in unison.
“Are you high?” Jo lowered her voice to a baritone, apparently mimicking me.
Jesus Christ, I can’t deal with this.
Grandfather had no coins.
He had no staff.
He had no guards.
He had nothing.
Nothing but the power that had grown like a cancer inside of him and metastasized with revenge.
I pushed through the crowd, finding DA Miller standing beside the fountain, two swans splashing at his back.
Miller turned to me. “Hello again.”
I pulled out the coin from my pocket. “It’s time.”
His haughty, East Coast WASP face slipped, and he looked at the gold coin with wonder. “I always thought these were a myth.”
I glanced at the stage, my grandfather had nearly finished with his speech. “It’s time,” I repeated.
He swallowed, blinking, and pocketed it. “Right. Let’s do this.”
DA Miller disappeared toward Crowne Hall, and I searched through the crowd of diamonds and ivory tulle dresses. Lottie was at the edge of the stage, holding a glittery feathered mask to her face.
When