all the money sits,” he says.
“But you won’t. Right?”
“No. And he can’t remove me. But son, I’m eighty-two. I’m not going to be here forever. And he’ll have complete discretion to pick the next trustee,” he says, and I feel a surge of worry.
Each word stings like they’re wrapped in shards of glass. My stomach dropped when they read the will yesterday. I didn’t expect to become chairman right away. I’m only fourteen. But to have no say—at all—over anything completely surprised me. What was I going to do for the next sixteen years?
“Okay, so what happens now?” I ask.
“Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about. Your father made plans right before he died.” His voice is grave, and he stops and watches me while his words sink in.
“What plans?”
“You’re going to live with your aunt Gigi. In Positano,” he says.
“Who?” I ask sharply, sure I hadn’t heard him correctly.
“Your father has an older sister, Georgiana, but everyone calls her Gigi,” he says again, and I sit back. A cold weight spreads in my core as I look at Swish with eyes that go from wide with shock to narrowed in suspicion.
“No, he doesn’t,” I insist.
“Yes, Hayes, he does,” he says softly. He watches me solemnly, and I realize, with real horror building in my chest, that he’s telling the truth. But … my father wouldn’t hide his sister. Would he?
“How come I’ve never even heard her name before?” I ask, the demand in my voice softened by the quaver in it. My entire body is shaking. My mind is whirling. I don’t understand.
“She was disinherited before you were born,” he says, and I blanch at the idea.
“Are you serious?” I ask rhetorically—the answer is obvious from the look on his face.
He just nods.
“But-why?” I stutter on my question because I can’t imagine that there’s an answer that would help me understand.
“She chose a man over her family, and that was that. Your grandfather wrote her out of the will, out of the family Bible, out of the family tree, and for him, she hasn’t existed in almost sixteen years,” he says.
“His own daughter?” I ask. My grandfather was not a kind or loving man, but he behaved like family was paramount to everything. And he liked control. Over everything. I can’t imagine him having a child out in the world whom he couldn’t rule over with his iron fist.
“It was her choice. Your father stayed in touch with her—secretly. The week before he died, he asked her to be your guardian,” he says.
“He did?” I ask dumbly. But I’ve stopped thinking. What else don’t I know about my family? About my father? Part of me wants to know. The other part hopes I never find out.
“I would have rather he’d let me be your guardian, but he insisted. He wants you to live with her. And she agreed. So, she’s coming to get you, Hayes.” His big body heaves with his sigh like he’s relieved to have said it.
“Coming from … where’d you say? Post what?” I ask. My head is spinning; I don’t even recognize my own voice.
“Positano,” he says with a weird accent.
“Where the hell is that?” I ask.
“Italy,” he says.
“What’s she doing there?”
“She lives there,” he says slowly, his face contorted like he’s bracing for a strong gust of wind.
“In Italy?” I ask.
“Yes. She got married and moved there with her husband. They’re not married anymore, and she stayed after they got divorced.”
“Is she moving here?” I ask hopefully.
“No,” he says that and nothing else.
“You’ll leave with her in two days. And you will take care of yourself and your name,” he says.
I look at him, confused and in denial about what he’s saying and shake my head as it starts to settle.
“But—I live here. I just made the JV team. I have a girlfriend,” I say and my life flashes past my eyes like a movie. But the reel is withered, burned, incomplete. My heart races as panic starts to set in.
I scramble to my feet. The chair scrapes against the floor as I push out of it.
“I’m in the middle of my freshman year. I just—”
“There are no options for you to stay here.” He cuts me off brutally.
“But …” I shake my head helplessly. How, in the span of two days, can my life go from one thing to something completely different? “I don’t even know her. We’ve never even met,” I say.
“You will get to know her. She’s already