His Inheritance

Rapunzel

You watched white flakes of snow blow around your father's favorite Rolls Royce as Dyson drove you into Boston. The winter storm was just getting started in the city, a perfect reflection of the cold storm raging in your heart. The snow blanketed the city in white, making it feel serene and quiet in the shadows of the night.

It looked perfect.

Seemed the best way to get to the truth was to come see you for myself. And here you are. And you're just... Perfect.

You didn't have tears left to cry. You were heading for a life you'd never considered and certainly didn't want. You weren't perfect. You didn't want to be. And you sure didn't see yourself happy in a life as Steve's perfect and dutiful wife, giving birth to the next generation of Mafiosos.

Dyson had pleaded with you until you dressed, got ready for your captivity-disguised-as dinner with Steve. You'd dressed alright. You wore the same demure black dress you'd worn to your father's funeral, wore the same black flats, the same black coat.

You'd cared enough about the mental well-being of the maids you'd known since childhood to let them help you do your hair and makeup. The end result was you wearing a bit more makeup than you usually did. The smoky eyes you might have appreciated if you were going somewhere you wanted to go to see a man who didn't regard you as a possession. The red lip made you look older, more experienced than you truly were.

I'll teach you how to please me... I'll make you crave me.

You shuddered at the memory of those whispered words.

You didn't want to please him. You didn't want to marry him.

What could you do?

Your father's parents and brother were dead. His brother never had children that you were aware of. Your mother had family still in Maine, but you'd been told they turned their backs on her when she ran away with your father. They didn't approve of him or the life he led.

You understood that.

But you had nowhere else to go. Sure, you were a legal adult. But you had no idea what to do with your father's business, his holdings, or his money.

It was a problem that would never be yours anyway. In his will, your father stated that you'd inherit everything that was his upon your marriage to Steve.

Imagine that.

It made you wonder if your father had his will rewritten that way because Steve forced him to. Maybe once the secret was out and Steve learned you weren't a disfigured shut in, your father changed the will on his own, knowing neither you nor he could prevent Steve from taking what he wanted.

The car slowed as it drove up the ornate curved drive of a huge brick mansion, lit up by several lights quickly being covered by the snow. It was the centerpiece of a sprawling manicured landscape dotted with trees, flower beds, and topiaries enshrouded by shadows.

Dyson brought the car to a halt, grinning at you over his shoulder as he parked.

"What do you think?"

"Does it matter?" you bit back.

Dyson turned back to shut off the engine, his exhale a huff of frustration.

"It does," he said carefully. "This is your home now."

You sullenly stared out the window you were huddled against. "No, it's not."

"Listen," Dyson turned and paused until you met his gaze. "You're a good girl. You're a smart girl. And a smart girl would be looking at the big picture right now. Your father, God rest his soul, is gone now. You've got no one else."