The Glass Ballerina Who Danced On Knives

You own this...and that too

"Besides which," Alisa continued, "the will is now in probate. It may besome time before the money and properties are out of escrow, but in the meantime, McNamara, Ortega, and Jones will be picking up the tab for anything you need."

Libby frowned, crinkling her brow. "Is that a thing that law firms do?"

"You have probably gathered that Mr. Hawthorne was one of our most important clients," Alisa said delicately. "It would be more precise to say that hewas our only client. And now..."

"Now," I said, the truth sinking in, "that client is me." It took me almost an hour to read and reread and re-reread the will. Tobias Hawthorne had put only one condition on my inheritance.

"You're to live in Hawthorne House for one year, commencing no more thant hree days from now." Alisa had made that point at least twice already, but Icouldn't get my brain to accept it.

"The only string attached to my inheriting billions of dollars is that I must move into a mansion."

"Correct."

"A mansion where a large number of the people who were expecting to inherit this money still live. And I can't kick them out."

"Barring extraordinary circumstances, also correct. If it's any consolation, it is a very large house."

"And if I refuse?" I asked. "Or if the Hawthorne family has me killed?"

"No one is going to have you killed," Alisa said calmly.

"I know you grew up around these people and everything," Libby told Alisa,trying to be diplomatic, "but they are totally, one hundred percent going to go all Lizzie Borden on my sister."

"Really would prefer not to be ax-murdered," I emphasized.

"Risk assessment: low," Oren rumbled. "At least insofar as axes are concerned ."

It took me a second to figure out that he was joking. "This is serious!"

"Believe me," he returned, "I know. But I also know the Hawthorne family. The boys would never harm a woman, and the women will come for you in the courtroom , no axes involved."

"Besides," Alisa added, "in the state of Texas, if an heir dies while a will is in probate, the inheritance doesn't revert to the original estate—it becomes part of the heir's estate."I have an estate? I thought dully.

"And if I refuse to move in with them?"

Max promised. "And in the meantime: Open. The. Letter."She hung up. I hung up. I put my thumb underneath the lip of the envelope—but a ding from my phone saved me from following through.

Message from: Unknown Sender

Gray's on his way. Wishing you luck-you'll need it.

-TKH

(end message)

Would you like to add "TKH" to your contacts?

Back in the suite, I found Oren positioned at the door. "Who is it?" I asked him.

"Grayson Hawthorne," Oren replied. I stared at the door, and Oren elaborated. "If my men considered him a threat, he never would have made it to our floor. I trust Grayson. But if you don't want to see him..."

"No," I said. What am I doing? It was late, and I doubted American royalty took kindly to being dethroned. But there was something about the way Grayson had looked at me, from the first time we'd met...."Open the door," I told Oren.

He did, and then he stepped back."Aren't you going to invite me in?" Grayson wasn't the heir anymore, but you wouldn't have known it from his tone.

"You shouldn't be here," I told him, pulling my robe tighter around me.

"I've spent the past hour telling myself much the same thing, and yet, here I am." His eyes were pools of gray, his hair unkempt, like I wasn't the only one who hadn't been able to sleep. He'd lost everything today.

"Grayson—" I said.

"I don't know how you did this." He cut me off, his voice dangerous and soft. "I don't know what hold you had over my grandfather, or what kind of con you're running here."

"I'm not—"

"I'm talking right now, Ms. Grambs." He placed his hand flat on the door. I'd been wrong about his eyes. They weren't pools. They were ice. "I haven't a clue how you pulled this off, but I will find out. I see you now. I know what you are and what you're capable of, and there is nothing I wouldn't do to protect my family. Whatever game you're playing here-no matter how long the con, I will find the truth, and God help you when I do." Oren stepped into my peripheral vision, but I didn't wait for him to act. I pushed the door forward, hard enough to send Grayson back, then slammed it closed . Heart pounding, I waited for him to knock again, to shout through the door. Nothing. Slowly, my head bowed, my eyes drawn like magnet to metal by the envelope in my hands.With one last glance at Oren, I retreated to my bedroom. Open it. And this time, I did it, removing a card from the envelope. The body of the message

consisted of two words:

Dear Avery,

I'm sorry.

-T.T.H.

Sorry? No explanation, just sorry. Sorry for what? The question was still ringing in my mind the next morning. For once in my life, I'd slept late. I found Oren and Alisa in our suites kitchen talking softly. Too softly for me to hear.

"Avery." Oren noticed me first. I wondered if he'd told Alisa about Grayson."There are some security protocols I'd like to go over with you."

Like not opening doors to Grayson Hawthorne?

"You're a target now," Alisa told me crisply.

Given that she'd been so insistent that the Hawthornes weren't a threat, I had to ask: "A target for what?"

"Paparazzi, of course. The firm is keeping a lid on the story for the time being, but that won't last, and there are other concerns."

"Kidnapping." Oren didn't put any particular emphasis on that word. "Stalking. People will make threats—they always do. You're young, and you're female, and that will make it worse. With your sister's permission, I'll arrange a detail for her as well, as soon as she gets back."

Kidnapping. Stalking. Threats. I couldn't even wrap my mind around thewords. "Where is Libby?" I asked, since he'd made reference to her coming back.

"On a plane," Alisa answered. "Specifically, your plane."

"I have a plane?" I was never going to get used to this.

"You have several," Alisa told me. "And a helicopter, I believe, but that's neither here nor there. Your sister is en route to retrieve your things, as well as her own. Given the deadline for your move into Hawthorne House—and the stakes—we thought it best that you remain here. Ideally, we'll have you moved in no later than tonight."

"The second this news gets out," Oren said seriously, "you will be on the cover of every newspaper. You'll be the leading story on every newscast, the number one trending topic on all social media. To some people, you'll be Cinderella, to others, Marie Annoniette."

Triple updates! Bc I'm bored and its spring break!

<3