Chapter 20: Day Thirty

Preston's POV

My mother's lawyers withdrew the filing at seven the next morning.

They did it by email, in two lines, without an apology.

I read it standing at the window of the villa library with a cup of coffee going cold in my hand.

It was the thirtieth day.

I had counted every one of them, and I hadn't told Hannah that I was counting.

My security chief appeared at the door.

"Your mother is at the gate, sir."

"I told you she wasn't to come in."

"She isn't coming in. She asked for five minutes at the gate."

I looked at the clock.

I could have said no.

I'd said no to her twice that week, and it had cost me nothing but sleep.

But I had learned something at the dinner that I hadn't expected to learn.

I wanted to see her face when she had nothing left.

I walked down the drive.

She stood on the far side of the iron bars in yesterday's white suit, with no pearls.

Her hair had come loose on one side.

Her driver waited at the curb, looking at his shoes.

She had never let her hair come loose in front of me in thirty-six years.

"Preston."

"Mother."

"They've taken the chair," she said. "The foundation. The board met at midnight in the hotel bar. Twenty years, gone in forty minutes."

"I know."

"The Southampton house is in your name. My cards don't work. I slept in a hotel I could not pay for until the manager recognized me."

"Then I'm sorry about the manager."

Her mouth twitched.

For a moment I thought she might laugh, and I'd have liked to see it.

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