Chapter 11: Terms

The lawsuit was twenty pages long, and Imogen read the important part to me over the phone from her car.

"The director in the grey suit says Beckett gave you the shares while impaired by guilt and grief. He wants the transfer voided."

"Can he do that?"

"He can ask. He's also asked for a hearing on your fitness to hold a board seat, and for every medical record from your hospital stay."

I was sitting on a stool in my brother's bakery with a cup of coffee going cold between my hands.

"All of them?"

"All of them. He says the board is entitled to know how injured its newest director is."

I didn't say anything.

"Cora?"

"I'll call you back."

I hung up.

Nate was kneading dough at the long steel table with flour up to his elbows.

He didn't look up.

"You've gone white," he said. "You've gone the color of this."

"It's nothing."

"You're a terrible liar."

Beckett came in through the back door at eight, because Nate had called him.

I had not known that, and I glared at my brother.

"What?" Nate said. "He's your business partner. Feed him."

My brother lived above the bakery, in the duplex we had grown up in, with a table that wobbled and four mismatched chairs.

Beckett Lowry, who owned nine towers, sat on a chair with a cracked seat and ate bread and soup out of a chipped blue bowl.

He ate all of it.

Keep reading free with an account. Start His Guilt Made Me A Billionaire from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.