LIVING ON YOUR OWN IS NEVER EASY.

More so if you don't have much money, live in a car with your half-sister and work in a low-pay diner to get by the night. But to me, that never mattered. I quite enjoyed my life. Simple, a little rough but I had my Ave and Lib with me.

I washed the plate gently, careful not to damage it, as my gloved hands scrubbed with a sponge. The bubbles foamed up and popped, causing me to smile.

"Yo, Leena," Jerry, a friend from the diner grinned as he walked by me, "we got good orders tonight, take a break." He sat down on a stool, going through his phone.

"Yeah right," I grinned back, "And who's gonna do these dishes, then? I get paid for this, ya know." I placed the plate into the drier, wiping my hand on a cloth and turning towards the man, "I doubt good orders alone have gotten you in such a mood. What's up?"

Jerry waved his hand dismissively, "Oh pssh," his lips twitched up at the corners, "nothing much, just a measly little lottery ticket."

"A lottery ticket?" I raised my brows. Jerry went on to tell me how he found it on the side of the road and it had a ninety-percent chance of winning and so on. And I nodded as I listened. I always found money not to be as divine as portrayed.

Don't get me wrong, money is needed. But not so much so that you forget the basic things you need to survive. I listened to Jerry going on and on about being wealthy and making a golden toilet with platinum toilet paper. I couldn't help but think of him as an idiot. Money could buy you a lot of stuff, and get you power and respect. But no amount of money could bring you back the time you waste upon daydreaming. No amount of money can give you a true friend. And certainly, no amount of money can give you a life.

Not all rich are kind. Not all poor are blind.

But of course, I am no saint to be preaching all of this to Jerry so I just gave him my lazy grin as I let him paint his dreams. Dreams that weren't destined to be our reality.

Midway through his yapping about buying Germany, my phone rang. Principle Altman? "Uh, one sec Jerry, I gotta take this," I put the phone to my ears, "Hello?"

"Ms. Grambs, you are requested immediately at school," the man's gruff voice sounded different... more excited, nervous, and almost scared, "This is regarding Ms. Avery."

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The moment I entered the Principle's office, I could practically feel the tension radiating off of everyone. My eyes scanned the room. Libby stood clawing at her nails. She was wearing skull-print scrubs and no makeup, both of which suggested she'd come straight from work. In the middle of a shift. Orderlies at assisted living facilities couldn't just walk out in the middle of shifts. Not unless something was wrong.

Even Principle Altman looked more queasy than he sounded on the phone minutes ago. My eyes caught a glimpse of gray. I couldn't put much thought into that because Avery entered the room.

"Libby?" She asked, "Leena? What...?" A solemn look went over her face, "Is dad....?" Before I could answer, a smooth and almost entrancingly powerful voice beat me to it. It made my skin crawl.

"Your father is fine." The voice that issued that statement didn't belong to Libby or Principal Altman. My head whipped up, and I looked past my sister. The chair behind the principal's desk was occupied-by a guy not much older looking than Avery. The boy wore a crisp, neat suit, so gray and pristine, it felt unholy for me to even glance at it. Also, it felt ridiculous for a suit to be made this perfect.

"As of yesterday," he continued, his low, rich voice measured and precise, "Ricky Grambs was alive, well, and safely passed out in a motel room in Michigan, an hour outside of Detroit." I kept it in me to call him a creep for knowing so much about someone's whereabouts.

"How could you possibly know that?" Avery glared. She was right. We ourselves did know not where our deadbeat father was half of the time. Much less a stranger. So either this guy was a stalker or maybe someone who has some reason to keep tabs on people.

The boy in the suit didn't answer Ave's question. Instead, he arched an eyebrow. "Principal Altman?" he said. "If you could give us a moment."

The principal opened his mouth, presumably to object to being removed from his own office, but the boy's eyebrow lifted higher."I believe we had an agreement."

Altman cleared his throat. "Of course." And just like that, he turned and walked out the door. It closed behind him, and Ave resumed openly staring at the boy who'd banished him. I had mixed feelings, however. Cocky Bastard was a way to describe him, in my view.

"You asked how I know where your father is." His eyes were the same color as his suit-gray, bordering on silver. "It would be best, for the moment, for you to just assume that I know everything."

"A guy who thinks he knows everything," Avery muttered, nodding to me while I rolled my eyes. "That's new."

"Girls with razor-sharp tongues," he returned, silver eyes focused on hers then landed on mine, the ends of his lips ticking upward.

"Well, isn't that refreshing?" I sigh. Why was this man here? He looked like the type to be sipping thirty thousand dollar water in his forty thousand dollar cup, then mingling with a low family of three like us. More so over, what does he want with Ave? A sudden protectiveness came over me. I controlled my urge to pull Ave and Lib closer to me and looked at the gray storm the man had for eyes.

"Who are you?" I asked. "And what do you want with us?"

"All I want," he said, "is to deliver a message." Message? "One that has proven rather difficult to send via traditional means."

"That might be my fault," Libby volunteered sheepishly beside me. Oh.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, "Good lords, Lib. I told you to at least read it properly." All I got in return was another sheepish little grin. Avery looked confused so Lib explained to her that there had been letters bombarding our house.

"The letters," the boy in the suit said, his voice wrapping around the room, "that my grandfather's attorneys have been sending, certified mail, to your residence for the better part of three weeks."

"which-in fact-were not letters from Hogwarts." I leaned onto the wall, my arms crossing over my chest.

"I thought they were a scam," Libby told me.

"I assure you," the boy replied silkily, "they are not."

"And who are you to assure us, again?" I wasn't usually this feisty or rude around people (I was) but something about that guy... The confidence he had in him as if the world would bend to his will... made me wanna give him a good cold splash of water.

His eyes narrowed for a moment before he folded his hands on the desk between us, the thumb of his right hand lightly circling the cuff link on his left wrist. "My name is Grayson Hawthorne. I'm here on behalf of McNamara, Ortega, and Jones, a Dallas-based law firm representing my grandfather's estate."

"My grandfather passed away earlier this month." A weighty pause. "His name was Tobias Hawthorne." Grayson studied Ave's reaction-or, more accurately, the lack thereof. "Does that name mean anything to you?"

"No," Avery said. "Should it?"

"My grandfather was a very wealthy man, Ms. Grambs. And it appears that, along with our family and people who worked for him for years, you and your sister," his eyes met mine, his gaze lingering longer than it should, as if studying me, "have been named in his will."

Suddenly a weird sort of knot was tied in my chest. I didn't like this. Something in me was clawing to take my sisters by the hand and drag them away from the boy. From what the boy was taking them to. A wealthy man? Avery and me in his will? Tobias Hawthorne? A sudden ache in my head was present. Tobias Hawthorne... that name... there was something I knew about him but I couldn't place my finger on it.

I must have zoned out, cause the next thing I heard was from Grayson, "I've taken the liberty of making travel arrangements on your behalf." Was that Greek or Japanese? No! It was me questioning my hearing capability.

This wasn't an invitation. It was a summons. "What makes you think-" I started to say, but Libby cut me off. "Great!" she said, giving me a healthy side-eye. Grayson smirked. "I'll give you two a moment." His eyes lingered on mine too long for comfort, and then, without another word, he strode out the door.

That guy is trouble...

I couldn't focus on Lib and Ave. My mind was busy reeling with reasons why some random rich guy, a philanthropist, according to Libby, would want to give me or Ave something. When I was sure that I never met anybody named Hawthorne ever. So why? Why did that name give me a pounding feeling in my head? Who was he?

"Come on, Ave, Leena! Wouldn't it be nice to take a trip, just you and me?" Libby's voice snapped me out of my little daze. I was worried about the trip. About Grayson Hawthorne. But then I thought about my sisters. Lib with that... asshole Drake and Avery with her dreams of travel. I may not value money or need it for my happiness. But that didn't mean they didn't. It's just a little trip. Then you won't be anywhere near those rich guys.

I took my sisters' hands. They squeezed mine. After a moment, I squeezed back. "Where exactly is the reading of the will?"

"Texas!" Libby grinned. "And they didn't just book our tickets. They booked them first class."

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a/n: aaaand first chapter!!