Preston slapped a document on his desk, pacing back and forth in the office.
Brandon and Lyra were watching him.
"What's wrong?" the younger brother asked.
Preston paused. "Take a look at the documents."
The person who picked it up was Lyra. They read through it, and upon seeing not just two signatures, but three, they blinked, pausing in confusion.
"What is this?" Lyra questioned.
"That bitch! That right there is her signature," Preston ground out, frustrated. "She'd lied that she knew nothing about this, that she didn't know our dad was going to write his will. None of us knew, but her signature is in there. And that chameleon Geralt was hiding it, so that I wouldn't see. I had to force it out of him."
Brandon scowled. "So, what you're saying is that Evelyn knew that Dad was writing his will?"
"What do you think?" Preston's anger-filled eyes shifted to the documents. "She knew. That document was signed last year before she left and that was during the time our father wrote his will according to Geralt. Father wanted her signature agreeing to marry Zayne Mancini."
"Are…you trying to say that father already decided to give the corporation to her a year ago?" Lyra asked. "That makes no sense."
"Nothing makes sense in any of this," Bradon agreed, shaking his head.
"I was trained for this since I was what? Ten!" Preston spat, burning in uncontrolled anger. "I've been working my ass off, day and night, being more competent than everyone else, doing everything our father ever wanted, even the ones I do not agree with. I did all this, pleased father twenty four seven to be worthy of TDG, and now… you're telling me he would give the corporation to her? Evelyn?"
Brandon shook his head. "That's impossible."
"Dad didn't like Evelyn, never has, I mean you can see the kind of person she is. Reckless, careless, incompetent, talentless. She has no clue or two of what it takes to handle a corporation. Why would father ever hand his entire empire to her? Risk the corporation he's worked so hard for?"
"Unless…" Lyra mumbled.
Preston flashed a look at her. "Unless, somehow, Evelyn and Geralt made father do it."
"What if they had something on him…I don't know, something big enough that it gave him no choice but to write down such a Will?"
"That would make sense because Geralt has always been fond of Evelyn. He would help her do anything and I don't doubt it."
"What do we do?" Lyra asked. "You're not going to let her have the corporation, are you?"
Preston shot her a withering glare. "Have what? Are you kidding me? TDG is mine! I've worked for it my whole life and no ingrate who hasn't put a thing down for it can have it not even if father wrote that damn Will."
"Then how are you going to get it back?" Brandon asked, brows furrowed in apprehension. "The documents are legit, which means that even if we take her to court, we can't win. And you heard that old man. The only way the corporation can be transferred to another is if she's dead."
All three siblings glanced at each other.
There were thoughts behind their eyes, but not a single one of them was saying a word.
"Preston…?"
Lyran stared at him.
Preston didn't say a word.
And neither did Brandon. If anything, their hands balled into fists, face hardening.
————
"Open your mouth."
Eveyln said to Zayne whose eyes were glossy from having received one too many drinks from her.
Whiskey was strong, and it didn't matter that he wasn't human. It was still eventually going to get him drunk, not to even mention the amount of shots he'd had.
She was feeding him back and forth, and he'd gladly admit he was enjoying it
"I should've kicked him in the balls, don't you think?" Evelyn asked, gulping down her shot as well.
She was seated on his lap, facing him, and the man hummed in agreement, arms folded with his head thrown back. "Mhm, yes, you should have. He was playing around with you."
She sniffled dramatically, pouring another shot. "It hurts… I mean, it's only been one month, but…still. He was my type. Totally. I thought we might eventually become something more…"
"Your type, huh?" His hands fell to her waist. "Why?"
She shrugged. "I can't… think of anything right now."
"What about me, then? Aren't I your type?" he asked, curious.
Evelyn stared at him and then slowly smiled widely at him. She poked a polished nail into his chest, lolling her head from side to side. "You're very handsome, maybe even beautiful, but…you look dangerous, Mr. Mancini."
"How so?"
She fed another shot of whiskey into his mouth and he gladly took it. "Like no one can mess with you."
Her response made him laugh, genuinely, eyes slitted in amusement. "Is that so?"
"Yes."
Zayne skimmed his fingers through her hair, sucking his teeth as he stared into the green of her eyes. "You're a funny human, Evelyn," he mumbled.
"Human? You sound like a robot."
"Do I?" He raised a genuine questioning brow.
That made Evelyn break into a chuckle at his words, shutting her eyes. "I have a question, Zayne Mancini."
"Shoot."
"Why are you so hell bent on making me marry you?"
"Because you're mine."
"Huh..?" She blinked her heavy lashes. "What…?"
"You're my mate."
"I don't know what that means." She shook her head. "Never heard that before."
"Well then—"
She slapped a palm over his mouth saying,
"I won't marry you."
"Why not?" Zayne asked, regarding her with a questioning expression.
"Depends." She climbed off him, standing to her feet with arms akimbo. "It depends if you can convince me, Mr. Mancini."
"And how exactly do I do that? What do you want? I can give you anything you desire."
"I don't want anything from you," she held her head high, scoffing. "You're the one who won't taken a no for an answer, so figure out how to con—"
Something whirled past her sharply with a piercing sound and the next she knew it, she was grabbed, flipped and pinned under Zayne, against the booth.
The sound of gunshot had blasted through the air, erupting screams from everyone within that club.
People were running about, everywhere chaotic.
She didn't even have the time to register what exactly was going on because Zayne had lifted her frame with ease, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
He reached for the pistol in the holster strapped around him inside his coat and began firing without a second thought.
Evelyn didn't think she'd ever been so afraid. Shots were being fired from every angle.
She grabbed tighter onto him, digging her fingers into the material of his coat, but then she felt something.
Something liquid coating her fingers in a mess.
That was when she properly looked down to the back of his shoulder.
Nausea rushed to her throat, her face gone pale white.
"You…you're…"
She swallowed the thick lump in her throat.
The panic began to set in, her breathing growing heavy.
"You're bleeding! Zayne, you're bleeding!!"