<h4>Chapter 231: Chapter 232 The Old Man’s Will</h4>


    ‘Of course not.’ I didn’t need to think before answering.


    If not for Yvaine and her two stalker-like suitors, I wouldn’t havee here at all.


    And... I nced at Ashton, who was treating the simple act of writing down his name on the lock with such grave solemnity, you’d think he was signing a peace treaty.


    I hadn’t said the L-word to him yet, but I didn’t want him thinking his feelings, deeper and clearer than mine, were one-sided or unnoticed.


    We hung the locks on the bridge, threw away the keys, grinned at each other.


    Ashton leaned in.


    I half-closed my eyes, waiting for the kiss.


    ‘Guys!’


    Ashton sighed.


    I hid a smirk and turned towards the culprit who’d ruined the moment.


    Yvaine walked towards us, hand in hand with Cade.


    I nced behind them.


    Cassian was gone.


    For the next three days, we followed Yvaine’s itinerary to the letter—hot springs, night market,keside shrine, psychic readings.


    Cassian never showed up again.


    ***


    The morning sun poured straight through the studio windows like someone had wiped the whole city clean overnight.


    My post-trip good moodsted until I spotted the mess on the front table.


    Dozens of flower arrangements vied for space.


    The ones on the left had started wilting, their petals shrivelled at the edges, water murky in the ss.


    ‘Priya, where the hell did all thesee from?’


    She looked up from herptop and spread out both hands. ‘You missed the circus. Daniel and Rhys have been dropping off bouquets like it’s a contest. One would show up, then half an hourter, the other one would too. I kept telling them you weren’t here, but they wouldn’t stop.’


    I dropped my bag on the bench. ‘You’re kidding.’


    ‘Wish I was. I didn’t want them tearing each other apart in here, so I told them I’d hold on to everything until you got back. Didn’t help. Yesterday they ended up fighting, again. Not in the studio this time, though, thank God. They took it to the pavement outside.’


    ‘Jesus Christ.’


    ‘Dan’s the one who started it, I think. He hasn’t even recovered from thest round. Probably escaped the hospital just to throw another punch. But now he has to go back to his ward. Rhys didn’t look much better. EMTs had to scrape him off the concrete.’


    I stared at the flowers again and visualised punching both infantile men’s faces until they resembled those wilted petals.


    They were still knee-deep in the inheritance fight.


    Every move was about scoring points.


    Neither one gave a shit about flowers, or me, probably.


    ‘Chuck them. All of it. Don’t even bring the next batch inside. Just leave a bin by the door.’


    Priya gave me a tight grin. ‘You got it.’


    I nced around the studio.


    Nothing was broken.


    No smashed disy cases, no blood on the tile.


    For once, Daniel and Rhys had managed to beat each other senseless without wrecking the ce.


    Maybe that psychic visit actually did something.


    At six, Ashton pulled up outside.


    I climbed in.


    ‘We’ll stop by the hospital on the way,’ he said.


    ‘What, are you sick?’ I scanned him from head to toe.


    Everything appeared to be in order.


    ‘No. It’s Edouard. His lungs are going again. He called the familywyer to the ward, drafting a new will.’


    We reached the private wing in twenty minutes.


    The nurse at reception nodded like she recognised Ashton.


    She probably did.


    Outside the room, I could see through the ss: some man in a grey pinstripe suit stood at the foot of the bed, flipping through paperwork.


    Edouard was upright, awake, alert enough to scowl.


    Ashton watched for a bit, then turned to me. ‘Give me a moment. I won’t take long.’


    ‘Okay. Try not to get disowned.’


    He pushed the door open.


    Edouard jolted upright and immediately started choking on his own saliva.


    ‘You—what the hell are you doing here?’


    Ashton strode in ‘Just checking if you’re still breathing. What, nervous?’


    Edouard red past him, signalling frantically at thewyer with wide eyes and a twitchy neck.


    The guy either didn’t notice or pretended not to.


    Ashton plucked the folder out of thewyer’s hand. ‘Let me guess. New will? Let’s see how generous you’re feeling today.’


    ‘Put that down!’ Edouard shouted at thewyer, ‘Marlow, do something! That’s confidential!’


    Ashton flipped a page. ‘You know Marlowe’s been working for me this whole time, right?’


    ‘What?’ Edouard’s eyes widened.


    His face dropped a shade.


    The veins along his temple pulsed.


    ‘That’s not possible. He’s been with me for twenty years. I trusted him...’


    Marlowe’s silence said it all.


    Edouard’s hand twitched, then fell limp beside him.


    He sank against the pillows. ‘You nned this.’


    ‘You nned it first.’ Ashton kept flipping pages. ‘You’ve been hiding half your assets like you thought I wouldn’t notice. The earlier drafts left out most of it. This one’s got the full haul.’


    He turned a page with one hand, held the file up to the light with the other.


    ‘Property in Nice, a trust in Zurich, equity in half a dozen start-ups. Plus that offshore ount in Belize. Altogether, what—ten billion? Maybe more if I get the art appraised.’


    Edouard wheezed. ‘You used him to get information out of me.’


    ‘Obviously,’ Ashton said, shrugging. ‘Took long enough, but you finally showed your hand. Let me guess, you called in thewyer because your lungs feel like shit and you know you’ve run out of time?’


    Edouard grabbed the cane from his bedside, swung it at Ashton’s shoulder, and missed by half a metre.


    It ttered to the floor.


    ‘You ungrateful bastard. Are you going to change my will?’


    Ashton shut the folder. ‘I saved LGH from bankruptcy. You handed everything to Reginald and Den, and left me with nothing but yourst name. If you think I’m walking away empty-handed, you’re sicker than I thought.’