The Ruthless Heir

“You cut him off, Judge. You can’t do that.”

“Why not? He was blackmailing grandfather.”

I can almost hear her displeasure in the pause before she speaks. “He was protecting himself after your grandfather threatened to take everything away.”

“And why did he do that, mother?”

Silence.

“Selective memory?”

“What he did was wrong.”

“He almost killed me.”

“And he’ll apologize.”Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

I snort. “An apology when my life almost ended… I’m not sure that goes far enough.”

“What do you want from him?”

“I want him to face the consequences of his actions.”

“What? Do you want him to stand before The Tribunal? Imagine the shame it will bring to our family.”

“That was grandfather’s area. I don’t care about appearances.”

“Besides, they’ll lock him up, and you know it.”

“Maybe he deserves to be locked up.” My grandfather kept tabs on him over the five years he’s been MIA. I know what Theron’s been up to, and it’s no good.

“Your grandfather wanted to punish him for my mistake.”

“For your extramarital affair, you mean?”

“Watch your mouth.”

“What did I say? The truth?”

“He already punished me. You stood witness. Or have you forgotten? Selective memory, Judge?”

Fuck.

I don’t have anything to say about that. I wish I’d never seen it. I wish I’d never learned what my grandfather, a man I loved and looked up to, was capable of. But then again, I loved Theron too. We were close, but he turned on me and stabbed me in the back. Literally.

“Theron didn’t choose his parents,” my mother continues. I missed whatever else she said before. “It’s not quite fair to punish him for that, is it? And besides, after what I’ve been through, don’t I have a right to say where some of the money goes?”

“It doesn’t work that way. Not for us. We’ve discussed this. Even if father was alive, the inheritance would have gone to me.”

“You and your brother.”

“I’m firstborn.”

“Well, la-di-da for you.”

“Mother, I don’t have time for this.”

“No, I guess you don’t with your new plaything in the house. In a hurry to get back to her?”

I grit my teeth. She found out about Erica although it’s not like I could keep that a secret. But the circumstances of her presence at my house? The plaything comment? What can she know?

“If Theron wants to return, he knows how to get in touch with me. In the meantime, if I find him on the grounds, he will be arrested. Understood?”

“My cottage is on the grounds.”

“Exactly. Goodbye, Mother.”

She mutters something, then hangs up. I put the phone down. It doesn’t bother me anymore, my mother hates it. Did she always hate me? She favored Theron, and for a long time, I assumed it was because he was the youngest. I know the truth now, though.

The thought of my brother brings me back to my conversation with Erica this morning. She isn’t going to drop her questions. And she has a point. I want to know about her scars. She wants to know about mine. Except she can’t know about this one. Ever. Not she. Not Santiago. Not anyone.

What do I want with my brother? What would I do if he came home?

I take a deep breath in and push the thought of Theron aside. He’s too much of a coward to face me. Because only a coward would stab a man in the back.

I get up, pack my things, and put my jacket on. I want to go home. And there’s only one reason for it. My little monster.

I’m not in my study at home twenty minutes before I hear a knock on my door, and Miriam enters, looking irritated.

“Miriam, how can I help you?” What did the little monster do now? The thought is amusing. Erica will find every button to push with this woman. And part of me can’t blame her. Miriam used to work for my mother, but she moved into the house a few months ago. I wonder if that’s where my mother learned about Erica. If that’s where the plaything comment came in.

“Sir, if I’m supposed to be in charge of Ms. De La Rosa, you need to tell Lois that she is to do as I say.”

“Do as you say?” I raise both eyebrows.

She clears her throat, realizing her mistake, but collects herself quickly. “It’s just those dogs are still in her room!” She doesn’t like dogs. And they don’t like her.

“Well, I did give my permission. That’s on me, Miriam.”

“I’m certain she fed them her food.”

“Mmm. I’m certain you’re right.” Pestilence would scarf down old bacon in a heartbeat. I guess they all would. “I’m sure she’s hungry. I’d better go see to her.”

“Well, that’s the thing. Lois sent up food! A banquet! All her favorites.”

It takes all I have to keep my mouth in a displeased flat line, although I find this so amusing. So typical for Erica, my spoiled little monster. My charming little monster. When she wants to be, that is. And she has charmed Lois.

“I’ll discuss it with her. Let’s remember this isn’t a prison. She won’t be fed bread and water.” I walk her to the door. “And I assure you you’re in charge of my houseguest. Why don’t you take the night off? Go on.”

“Sir, I don’t need the night off.”

“Take it anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Bright and early. Good night, Miriam.”

I leave her in the hallway and head upstairs, smiling as I go.

I change into riding clothes, then unlock Erica’s door and enter.

“You could knock,” she says from where she’s sitting on her bed like a fucking queen surrounded by all four hounds. They’re lying with their heads on her lap as she holds a magazine in one hand and eats a macaron from a plate of colorful macarons at her side.

“Well, look at you,” I say as the dogs come to greet me. I pet them, taking time for each of them. I love these dogs. Have even before Theron abandoned them. I protected them from my grandfather when he would have drowned them. Theron had only brought the dogs into the house to get under his skin. But I wouldn’t give them up.

“What?” Erica says from her place as she selects another macaron. “You didn’t say I wasn’t allowed food. Just that I had to finish my tray.”

“And I’m sure it was you who finished it.”

She grins like the cat who swallowed the canary and shoves an entire macaron into her mouth. “These are delicious. Lois has outdone herself,” she says around her mouthful.

“You’re going to spoil your appetite for dinner.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been starved, remember?”

“Starved is quite the stretch.” I walk over to her, the dogs on my heels, and pick up a macaron.

“Not that one. Pistachio is my favorite. Take the vanilla. Those are boring.”

I raise my eyebrows and swallow the pistachio macaron, not missing the look she gives me. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Thank you.”

“Most people would not take that as a compliment.”

“I’m not most people.” She grins up at me, and it’s as if the woman I left here this morning is a distant memory. She’s distracting herself. The dogs. The food. The magazine. I won’t have that.

“Why are you here, Erica?”

Her expression falters momentarily but then her eyes narrow. “What? Can’t stand to see me happy?”

“Are you happy?”

She shrugs a shoulder.

“Why are you here?”

She wraps an arm around her middle and looks away. In her profile, I see the vulnerable girl she hides beneath her armor. The damaged one. The frightened one.

“Erica.” I touch her cheek and brush her hair away. “I’m not asking to hurt you.”

She looks down at her lap, and Pestilence jumps up onto the bed as if sensing this shift. He whines and lays his head in her hands. I wouldn’t normally allow them on the bed, but I think she needs this. She pets him, leans down to kiss the top of his head, then straightens back up.

“I’m dangerous,” she says, swiping the back of her hand across her face.

I remain silent, watching her. Waiting.

“What I did to that woman.” More tears. She still won’t look at me. “I didn’t mean to. But maybe, in a way, I did. I’m no good.”

“Silly little monster.” I tilt her face up. “You wanted to protect your family. You thought you were.”

She shakes her head. “And then there’s Ivy. I hate her. I hate her for taking Santi away from me.”

“Well, that you’re going to need to get over. She is your brother’s wife.”

The tears in her eyes freeze into ice. “Only for a limited time. Nine months. If he can stomach the idea of impregnating a Moreno. And that’s a big if.”

“Mercedes-”

“Can I get out of here now?”

“What if it happens? What if there’s a baby? Will you hate your brother’s child?”

She scrubs her face and pushes off the bed to the other side. “I need to get out of this room.” She turns to me. “Please, just for a little bit. Then you can lock me up again.”

She’s wearing yoga pants again. And another sweater. “Change into jeans and a warm, close-fitting jacket. We’re going to go for a ride.”