When aristocratic Eddie inherits the family estate, he discovers that it's home to an enormous weed empire - and its proprietors aren't going anywhere.
Will he continue his father's business or will he leave. How would his family react, will he be...
The car sat parked in front of Sticky Pete's pristine townhouse, its sleek exterior a stark contrast to the run-down houses down the street. Edward Horniman sat in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on the grand building. The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting long, warm shadows on the cobblestone pavement. Susie, sitting behind the wheel, was absorbed in her phone, unfazed by the tension that lingered in the air.
"Does the name Stanley Johnston ring a bell?" Edward asked, breaking the silence.
Susie didn't look up from her phone. "No. Why?"
Edward leaned back in his seat, his fingers tapping restlessly on his knee. "He's the chap I just sold the wine to. Very interested in buying the estate. The kind of money he was offering suggested he might know something about the operation."
Susie's fingers paused briefly on the phone, her eyes narrowing slightly as she shifted her attention to him. "What did you say his name was?"
"Stanley Johnston. With a 'T'," Edward replied, his gaze still fixed on the townhouse.
Susie returned her focus to her phone, tapping away at it again. "What did you say to him?"
"I said it wasn't for sale," Edward answered, his tone almost defensive.
Susie gave a small nod of approval. "Well done. That's the correct answer."
Edward exhaled, trying to relax. The street outside was quiet, but the air seemed charged, heavy with the weight of what was coming. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he knew it wouldn't be simple.
Without a word, Susie turned off the car and they both stepped out. As they approached the townhouse, the elegant stone steps creaked under their weight. When they reached the front door, it swung open, revealing Mary.
"Take a look at this," Mary said, handing Edward a folded piece of paper. there was something in the way her eyes held his-steady, calculated. She didn't need to say anything else.
Edward unfolded the paper, scanning it with curiosity. "What is it?"
Mary's posture remained flawless, arms crossed lightly as she observed him. "The lyrics to a song Freddy's got to sing when he hands over the money."
Edward blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. "A song?"
"And he's got to dance," Mary continued. "Like a chicken."
