Reluctantly Royal
Page 70

 Nichole Chase

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“Yes.” He moved so that he was standing just behind my chair, and my father snorted.
“Isn’t there supposed to be a witness? Someone who watched my old man lose his mind?” My father’s voice was scratchy and annoyed.
“Yes, sir.” Gerard closed the door and moved to the corner of the room. “I am present.”
“The butler.” My father chuckled darkly into his drink.
“Thank you, Gerard.” I looked at the man who had done so much to take care of our family. He nodded his head before looking back at the lawyer.
“Okay, there is a lot of legal mumbo-jumbo, but if you’d like, I can cut straight to the meat of things.” He opened his folder of papers and pulled out a piece of Thysmer letterhead. “The late Duke of Thysmer wrote this out himself, which I then translated for him into the proper legal form.”
He passed me the paper, but before I could get a good look at it, my father was across the room and snatched it out of my hands.
“I’ll take that.” He set his empty tumbler on the table and scanned the paper quickly.
I watched as his face turned pale and then bloodred. My heart managed to lodge itself in my throat as I watched the veins in his neck strain against his skin. The paper shook in his hands as he looked up at me with furious eyes.
“As you can see, your father left very specific instructions.” Mr. LeFave clasped his hands in his lap, his eyes trained on my father.
Max placed a hand on my shoulder and stepped around the chair as if he were going to shield me from my father’s anger.
“The queen accepted his terms and has agreed to them,” Rachel said quietly.
“How can he do this?” My father turned slowly to look at the woman on the couch. “He can’t do this.”
“What is he doing?” I licked my lips and scooted forward on the chair. “What are you talking about?”
“Basically, your grandfather has divided the title between the two of you, but with conditions.” Mr. LeFave explained. “For your father to retain any of what has been left to him, he must successfully complete a course of addiction rehabilitation.”
Every cell in my body froze. I wasn’t even sure if I was breathing as I stared at the lawyer across from me. In one fell swoop, my grandfather had simultaneously validated my worry about my father and then turned around and ripped my dream out from under me. How could I be a performer and a duchess?
“She can’t just take my title away because I don’t go to rehab! That’s ridiculous.” Spittle flew from my father’s mouth. “I don’t need rehab. That’s rubbish.”
“We could schedule a consultation with a specialist. They could evaluate you and determine if you needed help or not.” Rachel kept her voice cool and pleasant.
Everyone in the room was so calm. Very calm. Except for the vibrating exposed nerve that was my father.
“You expect me to trust a specialist you pick? This is some kind of ploy to take away what is rightfully mine.” He turned his glare on me. “You’re behind this, aren’t you? You’ve been trying to push me out of the way for a long time.”
“I’ve been covering for you for a long time.” Something inside my chest snapped and my own rage boiled to the surface. I stood up and clenched my fists at my sides. “You see nothing but yourself, what’s best for you! Granddad must have realized that you would hurt this town and our family. You think I want to stay here and babysit your drunk ass? Listen to you bitch and moan and abuse me or the staff? I haven’t been trying to push you out; I’ve been trying to escape you.”
My father stood there, fury running rampant across his face. The letter in his hand crinkled as his hands shook.
“We haven’t gone over everything,” Mr. LeFave offered. “The financial settlement is not based on your sobriety. Excepting the money from taxes that is used for the township, the family inheritance has been divided between Arthur, Meredith, and young Marty.”
“I’ve still got my money?” Arthur turned and looked at the lawyer.
“Yes, sir. However, if you do not complete rehab or if you begin drinking again, you lose any rights to future moneys earned by your family. You will only receive a percentage of what is currently held in the family accounts.” He flipped through papers in his folder and laid it on the table.
I glanced down briefly at the paper and then back at my father. I wasn’t worried about how much money had been left to me. My largest concern at this moment was my father.
“What if she doesn’t want to be Duchess of Thysmer?” My father’s lip curled. “What if something happens to her? What then?”
The blood in my veins froze as I stared at the man in front of me. I’d always accepted that my father hated me. But did he hate me enough to try and kill me? For a title he seemed to loathe?
“Something happens to her?” Max’s deep voice cut through the room. “What do you mean?”
“What are you worried about?” Dad sneered at Max.
“You wouldn’t be the first person to try to gain a title by removing someone else from the picture.”
“Grow up, boy. If I was going to kill my daughter I sure as hell wouldn’t suggest it.” My father shook his head and walked back over to the cabinet to replenish his scotch. “I told you she’s using you. Now she has you all riled up because she’s been shacked up with you for a few days.”