Novel & Cerita Hawthorne House Inheritance Games

“Then your son dies. And I still get the estate. Through probate. Margaret’s will leaves everything to ‘her heirs.’ Guess who qualifies now?” Alex lunged. Thorne hit a button. The timer sped up. 02:03:12. Reyes burst in with two agents, guns drawn. “Down! Now!” Thorne raised his hands. “Don’t shoot. I’m unarmed.” “Where’s the remote?” Reyes snapped. “In my pocket,” Thorne said calmly. “But if you touch me, it falls. And it’s pressure-sensitive.” Alex looked at Alicia. She looked at the screen. Aiden shifted in his sleep.

The moment those words came out, the livestream exploded. Comments flooded the screen so densely they were almost unreadable. [Holy crap! We're witnessing history! The Foster inheritance is being decided by a match?] [Wait, isn't Sophie only the stepdaughter? She can fight the legitimate eldest son for succession?] [I'm already laughing. I'll remember the meme loop disaster forever.] [Betting queen round two! Comeback miracle, or final collapse?] [I'm betting on a comeback. Last time was just nerves!]

The cook blinks but nods. Dorian shrugs. "I won't be leaving my room for a while." He smiles knowingly. "I'll send more soda up later, as well." "Thank you." Then Dorian heads back upstairs. A fox returning to his den, ready to spend the night solving the most dangerous puzzle he had ever encountered. Troy Summers.

They had dated for three years, but he just stood there unbothered. As the parted her lips to retort, Andrea cleared her throat and deadpanned, “Our Hodge family is already doing a lot letting the daughter of a bastard join the family.” “Since your cousin and fiancé has fallen in love, there’s nothing anyone can do about it. There’s nothing we can also do about it, as the deadline for getting married in order to claim your inheritance elapsed twenty-three minutes ago.” “But you still have your grandfather’s blood running in your veins so if you sign a document stating you will never bring up interest in the inheritance again, I will give you some money to return to the countryside.”

If he felt the same thing I did, he didn’t show it. But just as his lips parted, a cold wind swept into the hall. Followed by the loud caw of a hawk. In its claws was a white parchment that fell into the hands of my grandfather. Thanks to years of our tradition being deeply ingrained, no one in the hall, maybe except alpha Stormfang questioned what was happening. “It’s here,” I breathed My first trial.

the old man retorts, his tone cold and calculating. “Old man, it’s your birthday, right?” Hollis interrupts, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Let’s not forget my father’s last will and testament,” Hollis said, leaving me standing and walking towards the old man who was sitting in the corner, his face turning pale. “Do you need me to remind you of what is stated in the will or the conditions that must be met before any transfer of ownership can happen?” Hollis asks, his voice dripping with authority. The old man’s eyes widen in realization as Hollis leans in closer, making it clear that he holds all the cards in this high-stakes game of inheritance. “You are only the guardian of the estate u

I think as I take a swig from the glass of whiskey in my hand, letting the burn steady me. I curse under my breath, my frustration building with every second. My mother. My family. This goddamn legacy I've inherited. It's all rotten. All of it. A cancer that's eaten away at my soul for far too long. And now, knowing what I know, the full weight of it feels unbearable. The Conti brothers...their disappearance, the secrets surrounding them. It's all tied back to us, to my mother, to this cursed family.

And yet. And yet William Wolfe had a second son who could inherit instead. And William Wolfe had financial interests — Jax had learned this only recently, from the estate documents — that were structured in ways that a particular kind of inheritance transfer would optimise. Cole's inheritance model was one arrangement. Jax's, redirected and restructured, was another. Someone had done the arithmetic. "Your father had Cole's car tampered with," I said. "The letters aren't explicit," Jax said. "Haverstock's last letter is as close as it gets. But Haverstock is dead. Has been for three years."

“He believed people are their truest selves under pressure. In a game. He designed one for us.” She held up the key. “There are others. He said if we find them all before the seventy-two hours are up, we unlock the ‘true inheritance.’ Something beyond the money.” Liam felt a prickle of unease. This was exactly the kind of convoluted game Arthur had loved. A test. Always a test. “And if we don’t?” Isabelle’s gaze was steady. “Then we get the money and go our separate ways, I suppose. Having proven his point—that we couldn’t see it through together.” She pocketed the key. “But I don’t like to lose.”

"Gabriel and Ambrose drained a lot of your father’s liquid assets over the years. His money, stocks and landed properties. They moved things around, changed names on documents, made it difficult for anyone to track." Mr Hawthorne paused, then continued. "But they couldn't touch everything. Your father was smart; even he didn't trust his friend, Ambrose. Your father left a significant portion of his wealth locked in places they couldn't access. And now that you’re here, you have the legal right to reclaim every last bit of it." "How do I do that?" "I’ll have to gather documents, work through the financial trails, prepare filings if necessary," he said. "But with your authorization, I can begi