into a new era, as CEO of Crowne Enterprises, and Lottie will lead Du Lac Enterprises. And I’ll leave you with what you left me. Strings. Iron ones.”
Grandfather laughed. “You’ll need more than one mistress to form a company.”
“I’ll have a wife, two sisters, a mother, and three half-siblings.”
His eyes grew. “You would give it to the bastards?”
“I’ll give it to my brothers and sister. I’ll do what you couldn’t do—I’ll acknowledge our family and be stronger because of it.”
As if on cue, my half-siblings slammed into my side. “He means us,” Jo said, pointing to her chest, then she spun to me. “Destroying-Draconian-castes-and-talking-to-your-brother-and-sister-for-the-first-time-in-your-life five.”
They all lifted their hands for a high five.
I exhaled.
They were still fucking high.
Still, I pressed my hand to theirs. In that moment, something happened. Like the rotted ghost vines wrapping around Crowne Hall suddenly fell to the ground.
My grandfather’s brows drew, looking between us.
“Yup,” Charles nodded. “We only slightly hate his guts now.”
“But you still suck major dick,” Keller added.
Sirens sounded in the distance, and my grandfather turned to their direction.
“Those are for you, Gramps,” Jo said. “Hope you liked my tits. That’s the only spank bank material you’re gonna have for a while.
“It’s for killing our father,” I gritted, resisting the urge to rub my fucking head, looking away from Jo. “For killing my stepmother, for killing West, and for killing Arthur du Lac.”
He scoffed. “You don’t have proof of that.”
“It’s amazing the things you can overhear when you think no one is listening,” Story said quietly. “When you don’t pay attention to those you think are below you.”
I think that was the moment my grandfather realized he was about to lose.
His face completely changed, his smile gone.
I don’t think in a million years they expected us to work together, because even as they had worked together, they’d conspired against each other.
He reached into his pockets, looking for the coins—then froze, furiously digging in his pockets. When he realized there was nothing, he jerked his head to Story. “What did you do with it, you little bitch?”
STORY
Stolen.
I glanced at Grayson and Lottie, who subtly nodded at the triplets. They’d stolen back the coins? Which meant…I had a free wish.
I thought about what my uncle would have wanted. What I wanted.
I pulled the coin out of my pocket, and Beryl’s eyes bugged.
“Those coins were not meant for someone like—”
“Like me? Maybe, but my uncle’s dying wish was for someone like me to have one. And I wish…that someone like you didn’t have power. I wish that my daughter won’t know what it’s like to have to hide from someone like you. I wish that we were free to love, away from someone like you. I heard that these have the power to raze countries and make kings. So…” I stared at the coin between my thumb and forefinger, glinting beneath the firefly lights. “I’ll take your kingdom. I’ll take back my home. I’ll take Crowne Hall.”
He sputtered. “I’ll challenge.”
“Crowne Hall doesn’t belong to you anymore, Grandpa. You have no right to challenge.” His eyes bugged as Grayson’s meaning slowly washed over him. “That’s what happens when you put up your house as collateral.”
A slow smile spread my lips, and I turned to Lottie, handing her the gold coin.
“You don’t need to give this to me,” she said. “I’m giving you everything back.”
“I do. I really do.”
She took it, staring at it with wide eyes. I don’t think she ever expected to hold something with so much power. Yet to me, it seemed right. Giving her the coin her brother had died to give me. Just as the coins exchanged hands, two men in blue pushed their way through the crowd.
Beryl’s nostrils flared, his face growing redder and redder.
“You!” Beryl lunged for me. “I lost everything because of you.”
Before he’d even taken a step, Grayson ripped him back by the neck. “Get your hands off my wife.” Grayson shoved him to the ground, burying his nose in the grassy sand. “The only reason you’re alive is because of her. You should be thanking her.”
“I didn’t do anything, Beryl.” I looked down on him, head tilted. “I just wrote a poem.”
The restraint in Grayson was palpable, the veins on his neck and back of his hand throbbing. Then with a breath, he tore his grandfather off the ground and shoved him into the hands of the cops, who were all too ready to put him in cuffs.
“Weak,” Beryl spat at Grayson’s feet, as they led him away.