"NO."

That's it.

No, that's literally it. 

The first word to cut through the suffocating silence was me just saying 'no' with my eyes blown wide. All eyes were now on me. 

"He left everything to her?" Skye's voice was shrill enough to break through my stupor. "Why?" Gone was the woman who'd mused about my sister's and my astrological sign and regaled me with tales of her sons and lovers. This Skye looked like she could kill someone. Literally.

My grip on Avery's hand tightened. My eyes narrowed into a sharp look. My initial shock was replaced by only the urge to take my sisters and leave. And maybe give little Miss Blue Skye a good punch. I help them both back for obvious reasons.

"Who the hell is she?" Zara's voice was knife-edged and clear as a bell.

"There must be some mistake," Grayson spoke like a person used to dealing with mistakes.

"There is," I spoke, turning a blind eye to Libby's look. "Either there has been a mix-up with some chick exactly named Arlene Amira Grambs and some girl named Avery Kylie Grambs. Or the old man just was out of it."

Ah, the delightful feeling of everyone looking at you as if they're just dying to see you in a wooden box six feet under. Peachy.

"You dare—!"

"I assure you, there is no mistake." Mr. Ortega met my gaze, "and that Mr. Hawthorne was in perfectly stable mental condition during the making of this will," then turned his attention to the others. "And I assure the rest of you, Tobias Hawthorne's last will and testament is utterly unbreakable. Since the majority of the remaining details concern only Arlene, we'll cease with the dramatics. But let me make one thing very clear: Per the terms of the will, any heir who challenges Arlene's inheritance will forfeit their share of the estate entirely."

I stood up and in front of Avery and Libby. All of these people wanted me and Ave gone. Libby was a target too, "So can't we?" I said, my voice sharp as a blade, unwavering. What I was going to propose would be the solution to their problem and ours. But it would be one thing Ave and Lib would never let me live down.

"Can't I, Arlene Amira Grambs, on behalf of myself and Avery Kylie Grambs, forfeit our share of the estate?"

A heavy silence filled the tense atmosphere of the Great Room. Wide-eyed expressions and looks of disbelief abounded. It seemed unimaginable to them that I would give up such a large sum of wealth so quickly. Yet, I would do it all over again, no hesitation.

The worst kind of sick.

After an eternity of no words—which turned out only to be a few seconds—Mr. Ortega spoke, "Afraid not." he cleared his throat, "Your possession is ultimate."

My teeth ground against each other so tight they started to hurt. What the hell? What did this old man want?

"No will is that ironclad," Zara's husband said, his voice acidic. "Not when there's this kind of money at stake."

"Spoken," Nash Hawthorne interjected, "like someone who didn't truly know the old man."

"Traps upon traps," Jameson murmured. "And riddles upon riddles." I could see his dark green eyes on Avery, then me.

"I think you should leave," Grayson told me curtly. Not a request. An order.

"I think we should." I took my sisters by the hand, looking anywhere but their eyes. Only before I could move a step a wrinkly set of fingers wrapped around my wrist. Nan?

"Technically..." Alisa Ortega sounded like she'd just swallowed arsenic. "It's her house."

My snapped head towards her, "What?"

"My daughter is correct." Mr. Ortega kept his tone neutral. "Avery owns the foundation and you own it all, Ms. Grambs. Not just the fortune, but all of Mr. Hawthorne's properties, including Hawthorne House. Per the terms of your inheritance, which I will gladly go over with you, the current occupants have been granted tenancy unless—and until—they give you cause for removal." He let those words hang in the air. "Under no circumstances," he continued gravely, his words rife with warning, "can those tenants attempt to remove you."

Money is a curse. A poison. It makes you sick.

The worst kind of sick.

I wanted to argue. I tried to deny it. But then I felt three squeezes on my hands. Two from Libby and Avery. One from the Old Hag. I tried to convince myself that this was for their safety. That I was saving my Lib and Ave from a terrible fate. But I couldn't ignore the fact that they wanted the money. I was being selfish and stripping away a golden opportunity from them. A life that they deserve. Full of luxury. I wouldn't have to work at the diner for so late. Ave would get a proper education. Lib would be away from that asshole.

Money is a curse.

The man I'd pegged as a former military strode to stand between me and Tobias Hawthorne's family. He said nothing, crossing his arms over his chest, keeping me behind him and the rest of them in his sight.

"Oren!" Zara sounded shocked. "You work for this family."

"I worked for Mr. Hawthorne." John Oren paused and held up a piece of paper. It took me a moment to realize that it was his letter. "It was his last request that I continue in the employment of Ms. Arlene Amira Grambs." He glanced at me. "Security. You'll need it."

"And not just to protect you from us!" Xander added to my left.

"Take a step back, please," Oren ordered.

Xander held his hands up. "Peace," he declared. "I make dire predictions in peace!"

"Xan's right." Jameson smiled like this was all a game. "The entire world's going to want a piece of you and Mystery Girl."

I looked at the setting sun. Nan had left my wrist a while back. But I didn't leave Lib or Ave's. I also chose to happily ignore how Jameson Hawthorne had a nickname for Avery.

I knew what I was doing. I knew what I was going to do, and it terrified me. The thought of accepting, the thought of willingly giving in, despite all my body and soul pulling me away.
One breath, two breaths, three.

I started to fall.
How far down? I couldn't have guessed. But one thing I knew for sure. 

This was just the beginning.

The only thing I could say to the eyes boring into me was something I myself never intended to let out. 

"Forgive me, old man, for I am now the cursed."

········•✦•········

The next few minutes—maybe seconds—were fuzzy for me. I must have let my hands slip from my sisters. I must have let my body go on autopilot because the next thing I knew, aside from the fact that I just willingly let someone put billions of dollars on my head and make me a target for society, was that I was alone.

Alone with my thoughts and the cold wind.

I closed my eyes. The stupid ringing never stopped. 

Too much. Everything was too much.

········•✦•········

"I want you to repeat with me, okay?" said the elder man.

His hair was combed back neat, his suit perfectly tailored. Yet his eyes betrayed mischief. As if he was playing a little game. Mischief and fondness. As if he adored this little game so much it was a game no more.

He pulled a tiny form onto his lap. The chair rocked back and forth. The sun was bright and warm. The shadows, comforting and mysterious. The books were old and wise.

Yet the child's smile was brighter and warmer, their eyes more comforting and mysterious, the man more older and wiser.

"Ati sarvatra varjayet." He said. Then he said again.

The little child tried, but her words were broken and mispronounced. Yet the old man didn't mind at all. Instead, he let out a hearty laugh and praised her for giving it a shot.

"What does it mean?" Innocent eyes asked ancient ones.

"One day," the man held the girl to his chest and rocked the chair in a soft, lulling pace, "one day, you will know better than all,"

"Arina."

········•✦•········

I was brought back to reality with arms around me and voices calling my name.

I let my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight. Ave's grip tightened as Lib gave me a small smack, "Leena!"

"Ow, woman!" I swatted her hands away. For one moment I felt light as a feather. As if all that happened was a little dream. A terrible fantasy. That I was just a waitress in a low-pay diner and I lived in a car with my sister with barely a hundred dollars.

And it all came back crashing down when the cow-boy Hawthorne was in my sight. 

Ah, back to the real world, where everything is just peachy and absolutely not brain-wracking at all.

I stood up straight, trying to blink out the dark spots in my eyes. I have no idea how many chapters I missed, but the very next thing I see is that the oldest Hawthorne, the cowboy, Nash-something-with-west-I-forgot Hawthorne, was slow-smiling at my older sister.

Oh hell no.

I, not so subtly, stepped in between him and Lib.

"You take care, darlin'," Nash told my sister. He ambled toward his motorcycle, then put on his helmet, and a moment later, he was gone.

Libby stared after the motorcycle. "I take back what I said about Grayson. Maybe he's God."

"You thought Grayson is God?" I arched a brow.

"Was." Avery corrected.

"And still might be. Who knows?" Libby shrugged.

Right now, we had bigger issues than which of the Hawthorne brothers was divine. "We can't stay here. I doubt the rest of the family is as blasé about the will as Nash is. We need to go." Avery said, looking right into my eyes. 

"I'm going with you," a deep voice said. I turned. John Oren stood next to the front door. I hadn't heard him open it.

"We don't need security," Avery told him. "We just need to get out of here."

"We're gonna need security for the rest of our lives." I deadpanned as John Oren agreed with me. A little part of me hoped he would fuel Avery's delulu. Not in the job description, I guess.

"But look on the bright side...." He nodded to the car that had picked us up at the airport. "I also drive."

········•✦•········

I asked Oren to take us to a motel. Instead, he drove us to the fanciest hotel I'd ever seen, and he must have taken the scenic route because Alisa Ortega was waiting for us in the lobby.

"I've had a chance to read the will in full." Apparently, that was her version of hello. "I brought a copy for you. I suggest we retire to your rooms and go over the details."

"Our rooms?" Ave repeated. The doormen were wearing tuxedos. There were six chandeliers in the lobby. Nearby, a woman was playing a five-foot-tall harp. "We can't afford rooms here."

Alisa gave her an almost pitying look. "Oh, honey," she said, then recovered her professionalism. "Your sister owns this hotel."

Of course, I own a luxury hotel now. Silly me.

"Besides which," Alisa continued, "the will is now in probate. It may be some time before the money and properties are out of escrow but in the meantime, McNamara, Ortega, and Jones will be picking up the tab for anything you need."

Libby frowned, crinkling her brow. "Is that a thing that law firms do?"

"You have probably gathered that Mr. Hawthorne was one of our most important clients," Alisa said delicately. "It would be more precise to say that he was our only client. And now..."

"Now," I said, the truth sinking in, "that client is little ole me."

·······•✦•········

It took me almost an hour to read and reread and re-reread the will. Tobias Hawthorne had put only one condition on my and Ave's inheritance. And one on me alone.

"You two are to live in Hawthorne House for one year, commencing no more than three days from now." Alisa had made that point at least twice already, but I couldn't get my brain to accept it. And then she turned to me, again, "And you are to not refuse or try to get free of the money in any way possible."

"Bullshit." I crossed my arms, leaning back against the window, "utter-fucking-bullshit."

"The only string attached to our inheriting of a foundation and billions of dollars is that we must move into a mansion." Ave blinked.

"Correct."

"A mansion where a large number of the people who were expecting to inherit this money still live. And I can't kick them out." I grumbled bitterly.

"Barring extraordinary circumstances, also correct. If it's any consolation, it is a very large house."

"And if we refuse?" Ave asked, and I answered with a dejected, "Been there, done that."

Then she asked. "Or if the Hawthorne family has us killed?" That was my biggest motivation to get rid of this curse aside from the random voices and flashbacks. But now I had my leg in deep. And Libby for sure as hell wasn't going to let me pull out. (That sounded so wrong-)

"No one is going to have you killed," Alisa said calmly.

"Look, I know you grew up around these people and everything," Libby told Alisa, trying to be diplomatic, "but they are totally, one hundred percent  going to go all Lizzie Borden on my sisters."

"Really would prefer not to be ax-murdered," Avery emphasized.

"Really would prefer not to be murdered at all." I smiled sweetly.

"Risk assessment: low," Oren rumbled. "At least insofar as axes are concerned."  

I let out a little giggle at that, "What about poison or blades? Ever heard of chainsaws?"

Oren gave me a grin, "Low. On the poison and chainsaws."

It took Avery a second to figure out that we were joking. "This is serious!"

"Believe me," he returned, "I know. But I also know the Hawthorne family. The boys would never harm a woman, and the women will come for you in the courtroom, no axes, poison, or chainsaws involved."

"Besides," Alisa added, "in the state of Texas, if an heir dies while a will is in probate, the inheritance doesn't revert to the original estate—it becomes part of the heir's estate."

I have an estate? I thought dully. "And if Avery refuses to move in with them?" I asked, owning that asking about myself would be pointless due to the second condition.

"She's not going to refuse." Libby shot laser eyes in my direction.

"Her choice," I shrugged.

"If you fail to move into Hawthorne House in three days' time," Alisa told Aver, "your portion of the estate will be dispersed to charity."

"Not to Tobias Hawthorne's family?" Ave asked.

"No." Alisa's neutral mask slipped slightly. She'd known the Hawthornes for years. She might work for me now, but she couldn't be happy about that. Could she?

"Your father wrote the will, right?" I said, trying to wrap my head around the insane situation I was in.

"In consultation with the other partners at the firm," Alisa confirmed.

"Did he tell you..." I tried to find a better way to phrase what I wanted to ask, then gave up. "Did he tell you why?"

Why had Tobias Hawthorne disinherited his family? Why leave everything to me? And why so adamant to keep everything with me?

"I don't think my father knows why," Alisa said. She peered at me, the neutral mask slipping once more. "Do you?"

I looked up at the freakishly detailed and intricate fan, probably worth more than my six months savings alone, and thought about it. 

Money is a curse.
The worst kind of sick
Ati sarvatra varjayet.

I let my eyes welcome the darkness. "Not a clue."

········•✦•········