"What the hell," Catherine whispered.

She watched Sean through the window—he was wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt but no tie. His hair gleamed in the sun, but his face was stormy. He strode toward the door and appeared in the living room moments later.

​​

"Sean," Catherine said, her voice sounding forced. "What are you doing here?"

He ignored her and turned to address Geoffrey, "Is it done?"

"Almost," Geoffrey replied. "Lawson fainted towards the end and had to be rushed to the hospital."

"I see," he said.

"It's good to see you again," Mr. Blair, Maria said. "Samuel and I are going to go grab some fresh coffee for you."

Taking Samuel by his forearm, she pulled him from the room. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, Sean waved Geoffrey away, leaving Catherine alone with him in the living room. He sat down on one of the boxy, leather sofas and crossed one long leg over the other, gesturing for her to sit next to him. Catherine sighed and took the sofa opposite.

"How much did Geoffrey tell you?" she finally asked.

Sean raised an eyebrow, "Everything."

"I figured as much," she said.

"How did you settle it?" he asked.

She shrugged, "Maria gets this house. She and Samuel will live here until he's ready to live on his own. He got the family flat in London, and I took the country house up North."

"Does that seem fair to you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"You took the worst house for yourself," he said. "From what I understand, the ceiling is practically caving in."

She shrugged, "It's not like I need a place to live."

"It's a bad investment," he said. "This house and the flat are worth at least twice as much, not to mention the art and furniture your uncle collected."

"As I said, I have a place to live," she replied. "And I don't give a damn about the art—it's bloody ugly."

Sean's lips twitched in a smile, "You don't like modern art? You know, that canvas in the corner auctioned for almost 15 million pounds."

"I don't care what it sold for," she replied. "A child could make it. I'm not going to surround myself with some ugly paint splotches so I can tell my friends and family how much money I spent on them."

A low chuckle sounded in his throat, and he stared at her intently as if he was trying to read something in her face. Feeling a self-conscious blush rise to her cheeks, she looked down at her legs. A long silence stretched between them, and she felt the sudden urge to fill it.

"Maria and Samuel are my families," she said. "It's important to me to take care of them—both for their sake and in memory of my father. They need homes and money far more than I do."

"So then, what will you do?" he asked, his face growing severe and dark again. "Will you try to move to that wreck in the North? Because I'm warning you—"

She shook her head to stop him, "No, that's not my home. Besides, your place is much less drafty."

His face cleared, like the sudden passing of a storm. He stood and offered his hand, "Well then, let's go home."

"Wait a minute," she said. "I need to talk to Maria about a few things before I leave.

He nodded, and she jogged out of the room and down the long hall to the kitchen. Maria and Samuel stood next to a tray piled with mugs, a coffee pitcher, and cream and sugar. Samuel had another croissant in his hand while Maria looked nervously at the tray and then at the kitchen door.

"Is everything okay?" Maria asked. "I wasn't sure if we should interrupt you—it just seemed like he wanted to be alone with you, and—"

"It's okay, Maria," Catherine said.

"I just worry about you," Maria said.

"Really, I'm fine," she replied, squeezing her stepmother's shoulder. "Anyway, I have to head home now, but I wanted to make sure you had the key and that you'll call me if the Stewarts give you any problems or if you need anything."

"Are you sure you have to leave?" Maria asked. "You can stay here as long as you want."

Catherine sighed, "I'm sure."

Maria pulled her into a tight hug, and Catherine embraced her back. After a moment, she felt Maria shaking in her arms, and she pulled away in concern—her stepmother was sobbing.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Though tears ran down Maria's wrinkled face, she was smiling. She wiped her eyes and pulled Catherine into another hug, "I'm just so grateful to you for doing this for us. If I hadn't been so lost in grief and so afraid of doing the wrong thing, I should have done what you had just done years ago."

"It's nothing," Catherine said. "I never should have let this happen in the first place."

"Don't blame yourself," Maria said. "You were just a child."

Catherine squeezed her stepmother in another hug and left the kitchen. Slowly, she walked down the long hall. As the adrenaline faded away, she found herself exhausted and almost dizzy. She sighed and met Sean at the front door.

In the car, she leaned back into the leather seat and closed her eyes. The car's engine hummed with the air conditioning blasted icy air in her face. She shivered, and then the cold air conditioning disappeared immediately. She opened her eyes just as Sean's hand returned to the wheel, but he didn't seem to notice her—his gaze was fixed on the road ahead.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked.

"Yes," she said. "I finally took back what's rightfully mine."

"Lawson is a cunning man," Sean said.

"In his way, I guess," she admitted. "If I'd just been a little smarter, though, he never would have deceived me."

A strange expression crossed Sean's face, and he fell silent. Though the air conditioning was off, an icy tension filled the car. She closed her eyes again and rested her cheek on the smooth glass of the window.

***

Three days later, Catherine paced the soft, plush carpet of the bedroom. With her phone pressed to her ear, she listened to Maria list the updates and changes she'd made to the house. As Maria began to detail their plans to repaint one of the bathrooms, Catherine found herself growing impatient.

"And what about the Stewarts?" she asked.

There was a long pause on the line, and finally, Maria said, "What do you mean?"

"Maria," she groaned. "Don't tell me they're still staying at the house."

"They're barely here at all," Maria said, defensively. "Lawson is still in the hospital, and Madison and Melanie only come home at night to change their clothes and sometimes take a rest for an hour. I can't kick them out like this—not until Lawson is better."

"There's nothing wrong with him," Catherine said. "Just yesterday, you told me that the doctors said he was perfectly fine."

"I said his vitals are perfectly fine," Maria said. "But Madison and Melanie say he's in some sort of coma."

"That's ridiculous," Catherine snapped.

She ended the call with Maria, slipped on a pair of sandals, and jogged down the stairs. She waved a housekeeper over and asked the young woman to find Geoffrey, and then she made her way to Sean's study. She raised her hand to knock, took a deep breath, and then wrapped twice on the door.

"What is it?" Sean barked.

"It's me," she said.

His voice softened slightly, "Come in."

She pushed the door open and stared him straight in the eye, "I wanted to know if I could go to the hospital. I'll take Geoffrey, of course."

"Why?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"My uncle is still there—in some sort of a coma," she said. "I want to find out what's going on."

He raised an eyebrow and shut his laptop with a snap, "I'll go with you."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Ever since he'd gone to meet her at her childhood home, he'd been acting strangely—as if he was somehow involved in her life, as if he somehow shared her grudge against the Stewarts.

***

Catherine rushed down the long hospital corridor past door after door, dodging nurses' carts and other visitors. At the end of the hallway, she found the door she was looking for. She gripped the handle and entered the room without knocking.

Melanie and Madison sat in the bright hospital room on either side of a bed. Both women scrolled on their phones, and a TV mounted to the wall played clips from a reality show. Her uncle lay in the bed—hooked up to several machines. He looked slightly paler and skinnier than before, but otherwise fine. A machine by his side beeped steadily as it monitored his vitals.

"What are you doing here?" Madison snapped.

She looked like she wanted to say more, but Sean entered the room, and she fell silent. She glared at Catherine—hatred smoldering in her eyes—but she didn't dare say anything else.

"How's Uncle?" Catherine asked.

"Not that you'd care, but he's not doing so well," Melanie said. "He's not a young man anymore, and he worked himself sick for the company."

Catherine rolled her eyes, "What did the doctors say?"

"They said they don't know when he'll wake up," Melanie said, sniffling.

"Oh, really?" Catherine asked. "What exactly is he suffering from?"

"They don't know," Melanie answered. "Probably stress or—"

"Well, I guess that's just too bad," Catherine said with a sigh. "You see, Sean had some ideas about the investment, and he said he needed to talk about it with Uncle. But I guess, if he's unconscious, we've wasted our time coming here."

"Don't go," Melanie said hurriedly. "You know, they say hearing familiar voices can help people wake up. Maybe if you talk to him, it will work."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Catherine muttered under her breath.

Though she couldn't prove it, she suspected Lawson was faking it. While in the hospital, he could buy time—Maria wouldn't kick him out of the house, and Catherine couldn't ask him to pay back the money he owed. A coma was the perfect excuse.

"Why don't you two go get a coffee or something?" Catherine asked her aunt and cousin. "You look tired."

"We're fine," Madison snapped.

"Get a coffee," Sean said.

Melanie glanced nervously at Sean and took Madison by the arm, "Come, let's give them a minute alone with your father."

As soon as they left the room, Catherine looked down at her uncle. Though he'd lost weight, his face looked even flabbier and saggier than usual. His chest rose and fell in an even, slow rhythm and his arms laid limply at his side—he did look like a man in a coma.

"Well, Sean," she said. "I guess there's nothing else to be said. My uncle is unwell. I know you were thinking about offering him a new role at the company, but I guess that will have to wait. While he rests, you can send your people to take charge."

Sean raised an eyebrow and replied, "Of course. You can begin to learn from them, too."

"I guess if he's unconscious, he can't make any decisions for the company," Catherine said.

"No," Sean replied. "And my lawyers said that if he stays in a coma, there are ways to divest him of his shares."

Out of the corner of her eyes, Catherine saw Lawson's finger twitch. She smiled and said, "That's so interesting."