𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐑 ⋆━━⋆ 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘏𝘢𝘸𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦

𝐢𝐢. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

I WOULD HAVE APPRECIATED THE FIRST CLASS if I wasn't so busy clutching my aching ears and squeezing my eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the stinging ring in my head.

Like my sisters, I had never flown before. Unlike my sisters, I wasn't so chill about it.

"Lib, my loveable little ball of gothic sunshine, stop clicking photos of everything in existence." I gave her a mock glare half pleading look, "The flashes are giving me a migraine on top of the already going on headache!"

Libby grinned and rolled her eyes, "Fine, but just one more," she declared. "Smoosh in and hold up your warm nuts."

On the other side of the aisle, a lady shot Libby a disapproving look. I wasn't sure whether the target of her disapproval was Libby's hair, the camo-print jacket she'd changed into when she'd ditched her scrubs, her metal-studded choker, the selfie she was attempting to take, or the volume with which she'd just said the phrase warm nuts. I couldn't help but snort.

Adopting her haughtiest look, Avery leaned toward our sister and raised her warmnuts high. I gave my signature lazy grin. Usually, it would be me who'd be the rowdy, chaotic, and excited one. But I guess the plane and the whole ordeal had taken a little toll on me. My mind just wouldn't stop thinking.

Who was Tobias Hawthorne?
Why does he know me and Ave?
HOW does he know me and Ave?
Have we ever met him?
What have we done for him to give us something?

Soon my sisters were on both of their phones. I grinned and said in an old lady's voice, "Oh this generation kids! Always on their phones." I got a few grins and 'shut up's. Then, like the hypocrite I was, I stuck my nose into my phone. Obsessively reading on and on about Tobias Hawthorne.

He'd made his money in oil, then diversified. I'd expected, based on the way Grayson had said his grandfather was a "wealthy" man and the newspaper's use of the word philanthropist, that he was some kind of millionaire.

I was wrong.

Tobias Hawthorne wasn't just "wealthy" or "well-off." There weren't any polite terms for what Tobias Hawthorne was, other than really fucking filthy rich. Billions. Capital B-billions. He was the ninth richest person in the United States and the richest man in the state of Texas.

I had excellent control over my facial expressions. That's why I used to win so much against the players in my and Avery's poker matches. But right now... seeing the numbers, I'm sure my eyebrows went to the moon.

Forty-six-point-two billion dollars?!

My already nagging little headache got even worse when I realized there were as many zeros in that figure as the fingers on my hand. Both of my hands. I put my phone down and stared at the cloudy bed outside the window. The ringing, still in my ears, but my mind, too occupied to register. My sisters were excited about the possibilities. I, on the other hand... was worried.

A man so rich can not be good news. What are we getting ourselves into? I closed my eyes and was taken back to an old memory.

········•✦•········

The man in front of me was anything but good.
He was quippy and sarcastic. Rude and quite blunt. Honest. And a damn good chess player.

"You're so cheating!" I was a kid, I had cute round cheeks once. I puffed them out, trying to look angered at the man as I glared at him. All I did was look pouty.