Debra Merkel, my mom, was known as a cut-throat businesswoman. She was cold, calculating, and assertive. She knew that marrying William would be the best move of her career and would benefit her company. My father was hard to catch. A lot harder than she anticipated.
She played all her cards until she found herself desperate and—she thought a baby would convince him to take the ultimate step. Mommy dearest swore she had everything under control until she found herself pregnant with the child of a man who wasn’t interested in marriage—at least not with her.
Sure, he bought her a penthouse across from Central Park and pretended to be a hard worker and devoted boyfriend. He was never with us.
I was around eight when she found out that he had played her. He already had a wife and two children from that marriage. But there was more. He had seven children in total. Debra’s son, Henry Lloyd Merkel Aldridge, was one of the bastards—me.
Well played, William.
“You can’t trust anyone, Henry. The only person you can count on is you,” Grandpa would repeat. “The day I die, you will own everything my grandfather built and I’ve procured. The day your father dies make sure to claim your part and build an empire.”
Cyril Merkel died four years ago, and I became the sole owner of Merkel Hotels and Spas. I continue his legacy and keep building a bigger empire. Every year, I make sure Merkel adapts to the needs of our guests and the world.
I didn’t think much about William nor was I expecting him to leave me anything when he passed away.
It feels like an eternity since I heard the news that he died, when it was only a few weeks ago when it happened. I never had a good relationship with him. He was a difficult man and a terrible father. Every person who did business with him swore that he never lost. Every move he made was well planned, and whoever tried to cross him paid for it.
There was never a way around him. If he set his eye on something, it always got done the way he strategized it.
After his death, I thought it was the end of him. How foolish of me. It was just the beginning. All of a sudden, the brothers I barely acknowledged came back into my life. The money I don’t want is waiting for me.
Here is where things get interesting though. In order to get my cut of this giant inheritance, I have to move from New York City to his hometown. Thanks to the Merkel fortune, I don’t need to stick around.
It’s not that easy. While my father might’ve been a fucking asshole, the man was brilliant.
And he always played to win.
There’s more at stake than just his money. If any of his sons walk away, he destroys the livelihoods of thousands of people. William wasn’t only heartless but vindictive. I’m still wondering what it is that we did to him.
He had seven children. None of us asked to come into this world. We only wanted his attention, and we only got his rejection and now his punishment.
I tried to be heartless, to say fuck him and everyone else. My brother, Hayes, worked hard to convince me to stay. That guy cares too much. He spent weeks talking to each of us, trying to persuade us to take a leap of faith. So here I am moving to the middle of nowhere Oregon, in a town called Baker’s Creek where I have to live for the next eighteen months with my brothers so I can claim an inheritance I don’t want and save a town I don’t give a fuck about.
For years I lived by myself. Now, I share a house with my brothers, Beacon, Vance, Mills, his son Arden, Pierce, his wife Leyla, Hayes, and his fiancée Blaire. Daddy dearest stipulated that we should be there with our significant others too. Thank fuck I’m not emotionally attached, or this would be a circus.
While I’m at it, I have to save my father’s businesses and play nice with my brothers. We can barely stand each other.
I have no fucking clue how these eighteen months are going to play out. I tried everything within my power to make this go away. There’s nothing I can do. I already tried disputing the will, paying his lawyers to change it, and ignoring the situation and everyone who is involved with this mess.
Nothing worked.
Sophia
I busted my ass my entire school career, including graduate school, so I could be the delivery girl for fucking Henry Aldridge. I am two minutes from giving up everything and…well, I don’t even have a plan b.
What happened to chase your dreams and don’t stop believing?
When I finished high school, I swore that I’d find my passion. A career that wasn’t solely rooted in gaining money. One of my biggest goals was to create a path that would fuel my inspiration. Poor young me. I was naïve, filled with hopes and dreams, and wore a pair of rose-colored glasses.
Confession time. I studied hospitality and business because I wanted to earn money and travel around the world. By the time I was declaring my major, money had become important. I now work for the biggest hotel conglomerate in the world, but instead of traveling somewhere in the Caribbean, Europe, or even Fiji to ensure our employees follow the operational standards that corporate sets, I run errands for my boss and now his brothers.
For the past four weeks, I’ve commuted from Manhattan to Baker’s Creek. Some weekends I stop in Atlanta, Denver, San Francisco, Seattle, or Vancouver before I arrive in Portland. Because everyone forgot to bring something important from home.
My friends and family wonder why I haven’t quit my job. It’s not as simple as handing in my letter of resignation. I can’t afford to just quit. I have too many expenses. My debt is just as big as the national deficit.
Have I tried to leave Merkle? Several times.
I find jobs that are a shoo-in for me. Places where I can make a difference. This is how it usually goes—I pass the first two phone interviews. The final interview is either a videoconference or in person. Whoever interviews me almost hires me on the spot. They promise to call me soon. A few days later, they either call to apologize that they filled the position internally, or they just never call back.
If by some miracle they grant me the position, Henry gives me a bonus to persuade me from quitting and then reminds me that no one will pay me as well as he does. My checking account agrees with him. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be declaring bankruptcy and selling my organs to get by.
Just because he pays what I need and then some, it doesn’t mean I don’t loathe the man. He drives me crazy. No one should be surprised that while I’m on the phone with him, I’m doodling stick men and stabbing them with my pen a million times while he says...
“Did you get everything?”
I mumble a yes. How could I not when it’s the third time he repeated the list of things I need to pack from his brownstone. Now, here’s something that drives me insane. Couldn’t we hire a company that could pack and move everything he needs?
Nope. Every week, he has something new to request.
“Anything else?”
“That’s all, unless… No, that’s all for now,” he responds, and if it wasn’t so early in the morning, I’d be either snapping at him or giving him one of my favorite sarcastic remarks. “Will you be able to arrive at the airport on time?”
“It’s six in the morning,” I answer, biting the frustration. “I’m pretty sure I can manage to get this done in less than four hours.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you in Portland when you land,” he concludes.