Page 92 of Fight Or Flight

“That’s correct, Ms. Monroe. My clients are prepared to sever the land they have inherited into three lots. The lot with the manor will be Ms. Davenport’s, the lot to the west of the manor with the waterfall will be Ms. Alvarez’s, and the remaining lot to the east of the manor will be deeded to you.”

“But why?” Emily asked.

“Because they believe it is fairer this way. You were a granddaughter of Elizabeth, so you, too, should inherit some of the property.”

Emily shook her head. “I wasn’t . . . I mean, I’m not . . .”

Victor’s eyes narrowed in on Emily, and he leaned forward with interest.

“Is this not agreeable, Ms. Monroe?” Speeler asked

“Well, yes. I mean, it would be great to own land. But . . .” She took a breath to steady herself. “I’m not —”

“Emily!” Anne snapped, cutting her off. “Quiet.” She turned to address the rest of them. “She won’t accept this. You’re clearly using her as a pawn to get in my way. You think I won’t contest the will if Emily gets part of the inheritance. I’m not naive. I’ll see you all in court.”

She stood and reached for Emily, but Victor’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“You’re not what, Emily?” he asked in a bitter voice.

Emily withered.

She glanced at her mother, then back at Victor, then closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She was just about to speakwhen Anne grabbed her arm and started pulling her out of her chair. “We’re leaving.”

“I knew it,” Victor said.

Anne and Victor locked into a terrifying staring match, as Emily started gibbering in panic.

“What the hell is going on?” Natalie asked. She looked at Chelsea, who shrugged and turned back to watch the drama unfold.

Emily’s eyes dropped. “Elizabeth wasn’t my grandmother,” she said. She looked at Natalie and Chelsea. “I thought you knew.”

Natalie gaped at her as the words and all their implications sank in. If Emily wasn’t Elizabeth’s granddaughter, then she wasn’t Robert’s daughter, which meant Anne cheated on Robert.

“Shut up, Emily! She’s lying,” Anne said.

“No, mother,” Emily said, squaring her shoulders. “I won’t keep doing this.”

“Who?” Victor asked Anne.

She shook her head.

“Andrew?” he asked, looking between Anne and Emily.

Andrew . . .

Natalie scoured her brain for the familiar name. She’d met an Andrew at the manor one day when he came to collect his inheritance.

“The tomato seed guy?” Natalie asked.

“Tomato seed guy?” Chelsea repeated. She looked clueless.

Emily nodded. “Yes,” she said, silencing them. “Andrew, the tomato seed guy, is my father. Harold is my grandfather.”

Anne dropped into her seat, rubbed her eyes with her fingers as Victor stared her down with a murderous look.

They all sat in silence for a moment before Chelsea broke it.

“Who the hell is Andrew?!”

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