The Heir – Part One
The Kings & Queens of St Augustus #3
Gemma Weir
The Spare - Part One
Copyright © 2020 by Gemma Weir
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover design by Pink Elephant Designs
Interior design by Rebel Ink Co
Contents
1. Carrigan
2. Carrigan
3. Carson
4. Carrigan
5. Carson
6. Carrigan
7. Carson
8. Carrigan
9. Carrigan
10. Carrigan
11. Carson
12. Carrigan
13. Carson
14. Carrigan
15. Carson
16. Carrigan
17. Carson
18. Carrigan
19. Carson
20. Carrigan
21. Carson
22. Carrigan
23. Carson
24. Carrigan
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Also by Gemma Weir
Other Works from Hudson Indie Ink
Because villains need to tell their stories too.
Carrigan
Three and a half years ago
“Mr. and Mrs. Archibald, Miss Carrigan, please come in,” the lawyer says, his greying hair styled into a combover that does nothing to disguise his bald head beneath.
Standing and following behind my parents I glance back at the waiting area and my sister, who is sitting playing games on her cell phone, and wish that I could stay out there with her. Since the moment I woke up this morning I’ve been filled with nausea over this meeting. I don’t know why I’m here, I’m only fourteen, just a kid, what could a lawyer possibly need to talk to me about?
My great-grandfather died three weeks ago, but I’m not really sad. Tallulah and I went to the funeral, Mom made us wear matching black dresses and heels, but no one cried like they do in the movies. It was weird; there was hundreds of people there, a sea of black suits and huge sunglasses, but no one really seemed upset.
I didn’t know him that well. I know he lived in the city not too far from our house, but apart from once or twice at Christmas when I was little, I don’t actually remember spending any time with him. He sent Tallulah and I cheques on our birthday and Christmas, but other than that he’s never been a part of our lives.
Mom and Dad are pissy about me being at this meeting but I don’t know why. I overheard them talking about how ridiculous it is that they have to bring me, but neither of them has actually spoken to me about why I’m here. I don’t think they know either.
Both Tallulah and I should be at school today, we’ve only been at St Augustus for a couple of weeks, and not long enough to make any friends yet. I don’t like it there; the classes are really hard and it’s strange being in a real school when we’ve been home schooled until now.
When we enter the office, the lawyer motions for us to sit down, and I move to a chair off to the side, behind my parents. No one’s taking any notice of me, but I still brush down the back of my skirt and sit demurely in the cool leather chair, placing my hands in my lap just like my etiquette coach taught me. I’m not sure why any of this stuff matters but Miss Phillips is constantly telling me that a young lady should always behave appropriately.
“Thank you so much for coming in today. Firstly, please accept my sincere condolences, Harold and I have been associates for many years and he will be sorely missed,” the lawyer says.
I stay silent because I don’t think he was talking to me. He’s looking at Dad and it was his grandfather that died, so it makes more sense that he was talking to my dad rather than him offering me condolences over a man I barely knew.
“As you’re aware Harold’s estate is currently valued at a little over twenty billion dollars, including his many businesses and property. I have his last will and testament here and if you’re happy for me to proceed I’ll go ahead and read it for you,” the lawyer says.
“Mr. Worth, shouldn’t my father be here for this?” Dad asks.
The lawyer’s face turns an odd shade of pink and his lips droop into a frown that makes him look a little like he’s going to cry. “Its customary that only the beneficiaries of the will be present at the reading. If you would like to invite Mr. Archibald to be present, we can delay until he is available.”
From my seat I watch as Mom glances at Dad, her red polished fingers reaching out to lay a palm across his leg.
“My father isn’t named in the will?” Dad asks, his voice shocked.
“Perhaps I should continue to read the contents of the document, hopefully that should answer any questions you might have,” Mr. Worth says, his voice calm and monotone.
“Of course,” Mom says, in her sickly-sweet tone that she only uses on men. “Please go ahead.”
Mr. Worth clears his throat, then opens the sealed envelope from in front of him and pulls out the contents. Methodically he places the envelope back down on his desk and clears his throat again before lifting the pile of papers in front of him. “I Harold James Archibald, resident of New York City in the state of New York, being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, do hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be
