Apparently, that had been another lie.
“How much?”
“Twenty million,” Flynn said.
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the absurdity was almost impressive.
“You want Bellweather as collateral.”
“We want to consolidate family assets.”
“It isn’t a family asset.”
Flynn’s face darkened.
“We’re married.”
“My grandfather’s trust says otherwise.”
Cordelia rose.
“You have enjoyed our name, our connections, our lifestyle—”
“My inheritance is larger than Flynn’s net worth.”
Silence.
Cordelia’s eyes flashed.
I regretted the sentence immediately.
Not because it wasn’t true.
Because I had finally said aloud the thing everyone had politely avoided.
Flynn’s family looked wealthy.
My grandfather had actually been wealthy.
There was a difference.
Cordelia stepped closer.
“You always thought you were better than us.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I thought Grandfather’s house belonged to me.”
“Your grandfather was a manipulative bastard.”
My entire body went still.
