Chapter 4

The next day, Dad called out of nowhere. "Your grandpa left you a wooden box before he died. Come get it or don't. I'm not holding onto it."

I knew it was a trap, but I went anyway. Anything Grandpa left behind was something I couldn't afford to lose.

In the main room of the family estate, Wyatt sat between our parents with one side of his face wrapped in bandages. Tamara was there too.

The moment I walked in, Mom grabbed the switch off the table and cracked it across my shoulder. "You had the nerve to lay your hands on your own brother. Get on your knees!"

The blow sent me staggering, but I didn't kneel. "Did Wyatt tell you why he got hit?"

Wyatt grabbed Mom's arm. "It's okay, Mom. He was just upset that I moved into the Kelton residence. I'm fine. Please don't hurt him because of me."

Dad pulled him into a protective hold. "He did that to your face, and you're still defending him! Your whole life, you've given him everything, and he still wants to destroy you."

I actually laughed at that. My bedroom, my watch, my parents, and my wife had all been taken by Wyatt, and somehow in Dad's version, Wyatt was the one who'd been making sacrifices for me.

"He touched my things, so I hit him." I looked straight at Wyatt. "If it happens again, I'll do the same thing."

Mom was livid. She raised the switch again, but I stepped to the side, caught the other end, and yanked it back. She nearly fell over, and two bodyguards rushed in.

I kicked one away and turned to grab the wooden box from behind Dad, but the other bodyguard grabbed me by the shoulders from behind and slammed me into the ground. My injured right hand caught the corner of the table. The pain hit so hard I nearly blacked out.

My vision went dark, but I kept dragging myself forward. "Give it to me!"

Dad opened the box. Inside was the rosary Grandpa had worn for decades and a small good luck pouch he had put together for me by hand. The stitching had worn with age.

Every time my parents left me behind as a kid, Grandpa would press it into my hands and tell me not to be scared.

Dad held the pouch over the burning candle. "Get on your knees and apologize to Wyatt. Otherwise, I'm burning it right now."

"Don't you dare!"

I wrenched one hand free and grabbed Dad's arm, but the bodyguard dragged me back. Mom kicked me behind the knees, dropping me onto the hard tile floor.

"He was my father. What I do with his things is none of your business."

The switch came down again and again across my shoulders, my back, my arms, until everything burned. I gritted my teeth and refused to give in.

Wyatt hid beside Tamara and whispered, "Just tell him to give in, Tamara."

Tamara finally walked over and crouched down in front of me. "It's just an apology. Say it once, and you can take the box and leave."

There was a time when I wouldn't take my medicine during a fever, and she would hold me and coax me for half the afternoon. Now she was watching my mother beat me until I couldn't straighten my back, and all she thought was that I was being stubborn.

I looked up at her. "You want me to apologize to a thief? He doesn't deserve it, and Grandpa would never want me to be a pushover."

Tamara's face hardened, and she pressed down on my shoulder. "Emmett, I'm trying to help you. Stop making this harder than it has to be."

The switch came down again. She held me in place and I had nowhere to go. On the seventh strike, the pouch in Dad's hand caught fire, and the flame swallowed the edges in seconds.

"No!"

I shoved Tamara out of the way and threw myself at it, grabbing the burning pouch with my bare hand. The fire seared into my palm, and I squeezed it shut, rolling on the ground until the flames went out.

Wyatt stumbled backward in a show of panic and knocked over the side table. The wooden box hit the floor, and the rosary snapped apart, beads scattering everywhere.

I forgot about the burn on my left hand and dropped to my knees to pick them up one by one. Wyatt's shoe came down on the last bead. He acted like he didn't notice and ground his foot on it, and the bead split down the middle.

I raised my hand to hit him, but Tamara grabbed my wrist first and threw me aside. "You're going to hit him again?"

My back slammed into the display table. I couldn't get up for a long time, not until Dad threw the charred remains of the pouch onto me.

"Take your junk and get out! Show up on time for the memorial service. That's the day your brother officially takes over the family. If you cause any trouble, we won't go easy on you."

I gathered every broken bead and every scrap of the ruined pouch with shaking hands. When I passed Wyatt on my way out, I stopped. "You'd better remember this, because I will."

I didn't unclench my left fist until I was outside the estate. My palm was covered in blisters from the burn.

Leonard's car was parked out front. He saw the welts on my back and his expression went cold. "Do you want to call the police?"

I straightened my collar. "Did you get all of it on camera?"

"Every second."

…

On the day of the memorial, the Ashcroft Grand Hotel had no memorial setup at all. The banquet hall was carpeted in red, and the entrance was lined with congratulatory flower arrangements celebrating Wyatt's succession.

Grandpa's memorial photo had been shoved into the farthest corner, while the seat of honor at the front displayed a nameplate with Wyatt's name.

He was wearing the suit Grandpa had custom-made for me, the watch he'd taken from me when we were 18 on his wrist, and the signet ring Grandpa had promised to leave me on his finger.

My parents told everyone the memorial service would be kept simple. What really mattered, they said, was fulfilling Grandpa's greatest wish, which was for Wyatt to officially take over the Ashcroft family.

In the corner of the banquet hall sat a single chair, and on the table in front of it were three documents.

The first was a written apology from me, admitting to disrupting the funeral and striking Wyatt. The second was another confirmation that I was giving up all claims to the Ashcroft family assets. The third was a divorce agreement already signed by Tamara.

The livestream cameras were all pointed at the chair. Mom had it all arranged so that the moment I showed up, I would be forced to sit in that chair in front of Grandpa's photo and apologize on camera.

Wyatt checked the camera angles himself. "He still has marks on his back, so tell the bodyguards to go easy on him later. We don't want people thinking we're bullying him."

Dad straightened Wyatt's suit for him. "You're too kind. That's why he keeps walking all over you."

Tamara sat at the main table with a pen beside her.

The ceremony began at 7:00 pm. Mom handed the hotel's registration documents to Wyatt. Then Dad announced that from today forward, he was the sole heir to the Ashcroft family.

Wyatt took Tamara's arm and accepted congratulations from the guests and the press. Someone asked with a grin whether there might be a wedding between the two families soon. Tamara didn't deny it, though she kept glancing at the banquet hall doors.

The emcee called my name three times, but the chair in the corner stayed empty. Dad tried calling me and found out his number had been blocked. Mom's face darkened, and she took the microphone.

"We'll wait ten more minutes. If he doesn't show, he forfeits everything his grandfather left behind."

Ten minutes passed, and the doors stayed shut. Tamara tapped her fingers on the table. Her assistant leaned in and asked if they should keep waiting.

"No." She closed the divorce agreement. "He has nowhere else to go. He'll come back eventually."

Mom took the microphone again. "From this day forward, the Ashcroft family has one son, and his name is Wyatt Ashcroft."

Applause filled the banquet hall. Wyatt picked up the inheritance documents. His pen was just about to touch the page when the doors swung open from the outside.

I stood in the entrance of the banquet hall dressed in all black, holding the wooden box with the broken rosary and the charred pouch inside.

Leonard and a notary followed behind me. My parents ordered me to sit, and Tamara pulled out the divorce agreement and demanded I sign.

Instead, I walked straight past them and set the wooden box down in front of Grandpa's memorial photo, then took the remote from Leonard's hand.

The large screen behind the stage lit up with footage of Wyatt posing for photos at Grandpa's hospital bed.

I pressed play. "Everything you owe Grandpa and everything you owe me, we're settling all of it tonight."