Page 142 of Threaded Lies

“Miss Rothschild.” Henry picks up on the second ring.

“You actually answered.”

“Yes. Well, you caught me in a rare moment. It is way too late to be entertaining calls from clients. You can call back in the morn—”

“You lied,” I grit into the phone. “You lied and I have all the paperwork to prove it. To get you disbarred. To sue you for fucking fraud.”

I’m met with dead silence on the other end. The clearing of his throat. A soft “Excuse me, I need to take this” to whoever is with him.

“Ready to talk now?” I ask.

“Miss—Rowan, I simply don’t know what you’re speaking of.”

“Yes, you do. She never signed the addendum. She never signed it because she sent an email to you, and I was with her every day from there on after.”

“She came into my office—”

“That’s bullshit and you and I both know it.”

“You can’t prove anything.”

I chuckle and it is unforgiving. “But I can.” His silence speaks volumes. “Here’s what you’re going to do, Henry. You’re going to void my gran’s addendum. The one you signed for her so you could receive whatever it is you conned her into leaving you. And if you void that addendum, I will not get you disbarred.”

“What is it you want out of this, Rowan?”

Forgive me, Gran, for going against your wishes but sometimes you have to play dirty to win.

“I want my inheritance parameters reverted back to the original version of the trust—that it’s to be received thirty days after I’m married. The only one that Gran signed. Then I want you to remember this phone call, this moment, and remember at all times that you owe me. And when I call in a favor to Westmore’s esteemed Henry Williams, I want you to do what I ask without batting a fucking eyelash.” Holy shit. “Is that understood?”

He clears his throat but doesn’t speak.

And then I lie. “Louder, please, so the recording can pick it up.”

“Yes. That’s clear.”

“Good to hear.”

SIXTY

Rowan

I pace back and forth.

I have been for hours.

My adrenaline was high. Then it crashed. And now my wheels are turning and I can’t stop thinking.

There’s only one feasible answer.

One right answer.

Get the $30 million and try to buy back what Holden is going to sell off.

Beat him at his own game. TinSpirits still matters to me, even now.

I grab my phone and dial.

Ring.