Page 2 of Luke

"No," she said heavily.

His gut tightened. "What's happened?"

"It's your father, Luke."

"What about him?"

"I don't know how to say this without it hurting, so I'm just going to give it to you straight." She drew in a breath. "Your father is dead."

His blood roared through his veins so loud he wasn't sure he had heard her right. His dad was only sixty-seven years old, and he was always healthy, always strong, and always bigger than life. He couldn't possibly be dead.

His stomach churned. His head spun, and he had to force himself to take a breath.

"Luke, are you there?" Claire asked, worry in her voice. "I'm sorry to just dump it on you like that. I'm still in shock myself."

"I don't understand. How did it happen? When? Was it an accident?" He had a million questions, but he'd start with those.

"He passed away four days ago. It wasn't an accident; your father had cancer. It was a rare and aggressive cancer. He only got the diagnosis a month ago."

He started shaking his head in confusion. "He got diagnosed a month ago?" he echoed. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"No one knew, honey. Your dad said he was taking an extended vacation at his property in the Bahamas. He went there the day after he saw the doctor, and I didn't find out until a week ago when he called me on the phone and swore me to secrecy. He only told me because he wanted me to make sure his wishes were carried out after he passed. I thought about breaking my promise to him and calling you and your brothers, but he was quite adamant that he did not want anyone to watch him die. You know your father. He lived his life on his terms."

He let out a breath, her words jumbling together in his head. "What were his wishes?"

"He wanted to be cremated, and he wanted everything to be done before anyone was told about his death."

"That's crazy," he muttered. "You're saying none of my brothers knew he was sick? No one was there when he died? He was alone?"

"He had hired a couple of nurses on the island and the doctor checked on him each day. He said that after he spoke to me, he was going to call his lawyer, Trent Harper. Trent would take care of the logistical arrangements. But he wanted me to be the one to call you and your brothers and his other friends."

"Who else have you spoken to?"

"You're the first one I've been able to reach."

"So you're saying there's not going to be a funeral of any kind?"

"No. Your dad said he wanted to be remembered as he lived and not as he died. He didn't want some sad ceremony in his honor. He wasn't being selfish, Luke. He was trying to protect all of you."

He wasn't quite as sure of his father's motives as his aunt was. But he was still trying to process the fact that his father was gone. Colin Brannigan was a billionaire, a media industry tycoon, a celebrity, a man with a booming laugh and a love of storytelling, and who lived a fast, loud life. How could a man like that just be gone?

"I'm so sorry, Luke," Claire added. "I know this is a shock. I'm happy to tell you everything I know, but it isn't much. I do have something for you from your dad. Will you be coming home any time soon? It's something I'd like to give you in person."

"I guess," he muttered. "I'm in Norway right now. I'll get a flight tomorrow."

"Call me when you get into town, and we'll meet. Maybe we can get some of your brothers there as well."

"All right."

"I'm sorry again."

He was sorry, too. But he was also pissed. How could his dad die without telling anyone he was sick? It didn't seem that generous to him.

His phone rang again. This time it was Pete.

"I assume you made it," Pete said.

"I did. It was a great ride."

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