Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Of course, my father couldn’t give two fucks about my emotional recovery or anything resembling my well-being. “Elaborate,” I order softly. “And do so quickly.”
He slides a piece of paper in front of me. “Your mother split the cash in the bank with you for the sum of five hundred million each. I’ll need you to fill out a wire transfer form.” He slides the paperwork in front of me.
I fill out the form. The money isn’t unexpected, though I have my own. I’ve invested well. I’ve prepared to be cut out of the family fortune. I complete the document and hand it back to the other man and do so with no sense of relief. There is a heaviness in the air, a seemingly illogical expectation I read in Withers that a man that just inherited five hundred million dollars is about to be an unhappy one.
He studies the document I’ve handed him and then glances at me. “The wire will go out today. This sum of money will take some time.”
“I understand. Move on.”
“Yes. Moving on. Your mother is out at Hawk Legal, which she agreed to in advance. You’re the sole inheritor of your father’s stock and therefore the controlling financial partner, with a few conditions. These conditions must be met within fourteen months of his death. He felt you needed a full year after the reading of the will to enact his demands.”
Demands. The word says it all.
This is going to be another mind fuck by my father. I know this all too well without one extra detail, but I still provide the expected response. “What conditions?”
“It’s spelled out in the documents in the folder. Let me leave you to look it over and digest the details. After which, I’ll return and make myself available to answer questions.” He stands up, exits the room, and shuts the door. It’s fairly obvious he didn’t want to take the brunt of my reaction. He wants me to cool down before he deals with my “questions.”
My cellphone rings and I snake it from my pocket to find Dierk’s number on caller ID. I answer the call because what’s in the folder can’t be changed. The outcome of Dash’s Hollywood deal still has hope. “What do you have for me?” I ask.
“That new CEO has a reputation for killing deals. What existed before he takes over never survives. If you don’t want his deal to die, leverage him, or take it elsewhere.”
“Leverage him with what?”
“There’s a cloak-and-dagger situation related to why he left his last studio. I’m digging. What I do know is that there was one exception to his kill program for existing projects. He hates to lose a bid and he held onto one script to keep it from going to another studio.”
“Did he make the project?”
“Yes. It was Starlight.”
One of last year’s biggest films. “At least he knows how to go big. Get me that cloak and dagger data.”
“More soon,” he says, and he disconnects.
I return my attention to the folder and like all bad things, I don’t wait and see. I rip the Band-Aid off. I open the folder and stare at the envelope sitting on top of a document, that reads “Tyler” in my father’s print.
Tyler–
Here is how this plays out.
You inherit my stock and become controlling partner, but there’s a catch. If you do not meet the guidelines of my will, the stock will revert evenly to all partners, excluding you. To secure your stock, and solidify it as yours and yours alone, you must marry within a year of this letter. On the eve of your wedding, my legal team will officially transfer your inheritance in full.
Additionally, you must put on a show and carry on an extended engagement in the public eye. At least six months to look respectable. You better make it look good, boy. My logic is sound. At this point, Hawk Legal needs stability and a family man as a leader. It will not survive my departure without a moral leader, which I have not been. No need for details. You know enough. You’ll discover the rest. Make this work. Or don’t. I’m dead. You are the one who has to live with my consequences now, not me. I told you to marry long ago, to establish a certain reputation, and you ignored me. Now you will not.
Goodbye, Tyler.
Oh, one more thing...
If you fail, you get one million, not five hundred million. The rest goes to a charity of your choice, but of course, without any connection to you at all.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tyler
I’m reeling with my father’s words.
I grab the form I’d filled out where it still rests on the table. Withers has not filled in the transfer amount.
The door opens and I pop to my feet, expecting Withers, but instead, it’s his secretary, Tabitha, a middle-aged brunette with a no-nonsense attitude. “Mr. Withers had an emergency and he realized he forgot to give you a document. He believes it’s quite important.” She hands it to me and hurries away. In a blink, the door is shut again.