Chapter 8
The funeral was three days later.
It rained.
Of course it rained.
Hundreds of people came.
People Mom had never met.
People who pretended to care.
Reporters lined the street outside the cemetery.
Cameras flashed.
Microphones were pushed in our faces.
“Mrs. Whitmore, was this related to the Voss feud?”
“William, do you have any comment on your sister’s death?”
“Luna, how does it feel to be the richest orphan in America?”
I didn’t say anything.
I just walked behind Mom’s casket.
The blue ruby was around my neck.
Under my dress.
Cold against my skin.
Evelyn held my hand so tight I thought my fingers might break.
William and Margaret walked behind us.
William looked like he was at a business meeting.
Margaret was crying.
Fake tears.
Julian walked alone.
At the grave, Evelyn spoke.
“Sarah was my daughter,” she said. Her voice was strong. Steady. “She was bright. She was brave. She was the best of us. And for twenty years, I let my pride keep us apart. I will regret that for the rest of my life. But I promise you this, Sarah. I will take care of Luna. I will protect her. And I will find who did this. And they will pay.”
She looked directly at William as she said it.
He didn’t flinch.
After the service, we went back to the house.
The lawyers were waiting.
With the will.
Sarah’s will.
She had made it three days before the gala.
She had known.
Somehow, she had known she wasn’t going to make it.
“To my daughter Luna,” the lawyer read, “I leave everything. All my possessions. All my claims. All my rights. Including my fifty percent interest in the Whitmore estate and all holdings therein. And including any and all claims I may have against the Voss family, Voss Enterprises, or any member of the Voss family past or present. Everything. To her. Absolutely.”
The room went silent.
Everything.
Half of Whitmore Industries.
Half of four billion dollars.
And a claim to half of Voss Enterprises too.
Billions more.
All to me.
A nine-year-old orphan.
William stood up.
“This is absurd,” he said. “She can’t just—”
“She can and she did,” the lawyer said. “The will is properly executed. Witnessed. Notarized. It’s ironclad.”
“Luna is a child!” William shouted. “She can’t manage that kind of money!”
“Which is why Sarah named a trustee,” the lawyer said. “Evelyn Whitmore. Until Luna turns twenty-one. Evelyn has complete control. Complete authority. And if anything should happen to Evelyn… the secondary trustee is Julian Whitmore.”
Now it was Margaret’s turn to drop her glass.
“Julian?” she shrieked. “My son? You can’t be serious!”
“Sarah’s wishes are clear,” the lawyer said.
Julian looked just as shocked as everyone else.
“Me?” he whispered.
William was purple.
“This is a travesty,” he said. “I will contest this. I will spend every dollar I have to—”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Evelyn said. She stood up. She was different now. Harder. “Because if you do, I will release every document I have proving you leaked the security codes the night Sarah was killed. I have the phone records, William. I have the bank transfers. I have everything. You want war? I’ll give you war. But remember this. I started with nothing when your father died. And I built this empire. I can burn it down just as fast.”
She leaned across the table.
“Touch Luna. Even look at her wrong. And I will destroy you. Slowly. Painfully. Publicly. Do we understand each other?”
William stared at her.
For a long minute.
Then he turned and walked out.
Margaret ran after him.
Julian stayed.
He looked at me.
“Luna,” he said. “I had no idea. About any of this. I swear.”
“I know,” I said.
And I did.
I believed him.
That night, the police came back.
With new evidence.
The bank transfers Evelyn had mentioned.
Two payments.
Five hundred thousand dollars each.
From an offshore account.
To two known hitmen.
And the account?
It was tied to William Whitmore.
“He didn’t do it,” Robert said after the police left.
Evelyn looked at him.
“What?”
“The transfers look real,” he said. “Too real. Too clean. William is many things. But he’s not stupid. He wouldn’t leave a paper trail this obvious. This is a frame job.”
“By who?” Evelyn asked.
“Who benefits the most from Sarah dead and William in jail?”
I knew the answer before he said it.
“Voss,” I whispered.
Everyone looked at me.
“Christian Voss,” I said. “He wants the necklace. He wants me dead. And if William goes to jail, Whitmore Industries falls apart. No one is left to fight him. He wins. Everything.”
Robert nodded.
“Smart kid,” he said.
Evelyn walked to the window.
She looked out at the dark gardens.
“Then we do what we should have done from the beginning,” she said. “We take the fight to him. We file the claim against Voss Enterprises tomorrow. We prove Luna is Marcus Voss’s daughter. We take half his company. And while he’s busy fighting that in court… we find proof. That he killed Sarah. That he framed William. That he’s been behind everything from the start.”
She turned around.
May you like
Her eyes were on fire.
“Voss wanted a war,” she said. “Now he’s got one.”
