This time, his lips only quirk when he attempts to soften the graveness of everything.
“You don’t have to smile. I don’t even try,” I say. We’re familiar bedfellows when it comes to sitting across from each other with grim sadness between us.
When my father’s brain tumor returned so aggressively—and within weeks of his surgery—it was Swish who told me it was time to get ready to say goodbye. He was dead two weeks later. In so many ways, my life feels like it’s come to a screeching halt.
I haven’t been to school. My stepmother has taken my brothers and gone to her parents’ in College Station. And my uncle Thomas and his newest future ex-wife have moved into the wing that belonged to my father. I don’t know how he can stand to be in there. The last time I walked into that part of the house, it smelled like my dad, and I couldn’t stomach being there. I can’t imagine sleeping in his old bed, breathing air that smells like him. I miss him so much.
“I was raised in a different time. And your father, God rest his soul, reminded me so much of his father,” he adds,
“They weren’t anything alike,” I interject and lean forward because I want to see his agreement with my own eyes.
Instead, all I see is pity.
“They weren’t,” I insist.
He sighs. “I know your grandfather was ruthless at times.”
“All the time,” I mumble.
“People tell all sorts of stories about him. Your father didn’t speak highly of him. Thomas only speaks of him in hushed tones of reverence. The truth of the treatment his legacy deserves is somewhere between those two. But, he did what he had to, to preserve the family’s traditions of service. As did your father. And you will, too. Remember that you’ve been raised to honor and preserve your family’s money and their name. Your grandfather was the first Rivers to serve the family’s business in a purely figurehead capacity. Your father expanded some of the roles, but they both saw to it that the family’s businesses were run by people who’d done more to prove themselves worthy than just inheriting it. So, as chairman of the board, the title your father held—and that you will hold—is still an important one because you’re in charge of the family’s personal fortune. You’ve seen the reports in Forbes?” he asks.
“Yes, I have no idea if they’re true. I mean, do we really have twenty billion dollars?” I ask.
“There is no ‘we.’ It’s just you. And it’s much more than that,” he says, and my jaw drops.
“Me?” I ask.
“Yes, you,” he says mirthlessly.
“Holy shit.” I sigh and lean back.
“A lot of that comes from your ownership in Kingdom stock. But Hayes, the trust doesn’t give you access to the any of it until you’re twenty-five. Until then, your guardian has control over it, and the trustee has control over him.
“The will says that in a case where the heir is too young to assume, a regent or guardian is appointed. It would have been your mother. But …” He purses his lips.
So, I finish his sentence for him. “But, she’s dead, too.”
“Yes, she is,” he says with a new heaviness in his voice. “Your great-great-grandfather Rivers was obsessed with the idea of establishing his own dynasty. Unfortunately for Thomas, it means his inheritance and importance to the family is much smaller. But now, as your guardian, he’ll also be the acting chairman,” he says grimly.
“So, it’s only until I’m thirty?”
“Yes, but I know he wants that chairmanship permanently. And he wants it to pass to his heirs. That useless cousin of yours would then inherit after him,” Swish warns me, and my worry spikes when I think about my cousin Jesse, who lives with his mother in Miami. We’ve never gotten along. I can’t imagine him leading our family.
“As we learned yesterday, your father’s adoption of your brothers doesn’t make them heirs as he’d hoped. So, the only way Thomas could ever take your place permanently is if you died. And you’re so young, he has no hope. But he’s going to do everything he can to find a way to undermine you. And he’ll have sixteen years to do it,” he says.
“What can I do to stop him?” I ask.
“Nothing. I think he’s going to ask me to resign as the trustee of the family foundation where all the money sits,” he says.
“But you won’t. Right?”
“No. And he can’t remove me. But son, I’m eighty-two. I’m not going to be here forever. And he’ll have complete discretion to pick the next trustee,” he says, and I feel a surge of worry.
Each word stings like they’re wrapped in shards of glass. My stomach dropped when they read the will yesterday. I didn’t expect to become chairman right away. I’m only fourteen. But to have no say—at all—over anything completely surprised me. What was I going to do for the next sixteen years?
“Okay, so what happens now?” I ask.
“Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about. Your father made plans right before he died.” His voice is grave, and he stops and watches me while his words sink in.
“What plans?”
“You’re going to live with your aunt Gigi. In Positano,” he says.
“Who?” I ask sharply, sure I hadn’t heard him correctly.
“Your father has an older sister, Georgiana, but everyone calls her Gigi,” he says again, and I sit back. A cold weight spreads in my core as I look at Swish with eyes that go from wide with shock to narrowed in suspicion.
“No, he doesn’t,” I insist.
“Yes, Hayes, he does,” he says softly. He watches me solemnly, and I realize, with real horror building in my chest, that he’s telling the truth. But … my father wouldn’t hide his sister. Would he?
“How come I’ve never even heard her name before?” I ask, the demand in my voice softened by the quaver in it. My entire body is shaking. My mind is whirling. I don’t understand.
“She was disinherited before you were born,” he says, and I blanch at the idea.
“Are you serious?” I ask rhetorically—the answer is obvious from the look on his face.
He just nods.
“But-why?” I stutter on my question because I can’t imagine that there’s an answer that would help me understand.
“She chose a man over her family, and that was that. Your grandfather wrote her out of the will, out of the family Bible, out of the family tree, and for him, she hasn’t existed in almost sixteen years,” he says.
“His own daughter?” I ask. My grandfather was not a kind or loving man, but he behaved like family was paramount to everything. And he liked control. Over everything. I can’t imagine him having a child out in the world whom he couldn’t rule over with his iron fist.
“It was her choice. Your father stayed in touch with her—secretly. The week before he died, he asked her to be your guardian,” he says.
“He did?” I ask dumbly. But I’ve stopped thinking. What else don’t I know about my family? About my father? Part of me wants to know. The other part hopes I never find out.
“I would have rather he’d let me be your guardian, but he insisted. He wants you to live with her. And she agreed. So, she’s coming to get you, Hayes.” His big body heaves with his sigh like he’s relieved to have said it.