Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
He’s in pain.
He’s hurting.
Hailey is still married to Trent. The job isn’t done. As long as she’s Mrs. Trent Waterford, Oliver can’t be around her. Not really. Not how they both want.
How long will this last? It’s a question no one has the answer to, because the most important thing in a long con is…patience.
I leave my brothers to hurriedly push through the crowds. They gather around a tall sturdy oak tree tied with a white ribbon. In lieu of a funeral for Varrick, the beneficiary of the Wolfe trust has chosen a memorial service to celebrate the entire Wolfe family. Seeing the amount of people coming out for Rocky’s family—it pushes emotion into me.
I try to keep it together, especially when I find Hailey sitting on the fountain, a book in hand. Her husband stands beside her, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone. I’d like to say Trent is doing his best impersonation of being a complete douchebag, but it’s just who he is in his soul.
“Hails, there you are.” I capture Hailey’s attention. She glances up from her book as I dig out a pill bottle from my crossbody bag. “I have your prescription.”
Trent gawks at me. “Could you be any less discreet, Phoebe?”
Hailey quickly takes the pills from me and shoves them in her purse. She mouths a Thanks.
I glare at Trent. “Just helping a girl out, Trent.”
The morning after the Fourth, Hailey confessed to Trent that she had an outbreak of herpes, and she’d need at least a few weeks before it cleared up so they could have sex.
By the disgusted look on his face, I’d say he’ll let her take as long as she needs. We’ve got to thank Carter for the prescription. It only sucks that this is another dent in Hailey’s reputation. But she’s made it clear she’s willing to run it over with a Mack Truck to get this done.
“Can you give us a minute?” I ask Trent.
He sighs in annoyance. “Sure. I need to find Collin anyway.” He’s promoted his childhood best friend back to the number one position.
I plop down on the fountain ledge beside Hailey. She has on a chain-link necklace and her usual snakebite lip piercings. “The godmothers left,” I whisper.
She looks up from her book, and I see the puffiness around her eyes. “I know.”
I suck in a tight breath. “Your mom called you?”
She nods, her eyes misting over. “I wish they could have stayed for us…but I think they were okay leaving, knowing we have each other.”
I sniff back emotion and nudge her shoulder. “Dynamic duo. Like Thelma and Louise.”
Her nose crinkles. “They die at the end.”
I think harder. “Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy?” Nova would be proud of that comic book pull.
Hailey’s lips lift. “That actually kinda fits.”
Katherine Rhodes walks over, clipboard and scissors in her arms, and interrupts us. “Hailey,” she says. “As the beneficiary of the Wolfe trust, would you like to cut the ribbon?”
Hailey closes her book. I give her a smile of encouragement, even as my throat dries.
Before his death, Varrick had filed paperwork naming Hailey Thornhall as the sole beneficiary of the Wolfe trust. She’s set to receive the entire estate in a couple weeks.
She’ll own Stonehaven, Baubles & Bookends, dozens of other properties in town, and have amassed a multibillion-dollar fortune.
But she’ll still be married to Trent fucking Waterford, and no one is safe until he’s gone for good.
Three Months Later
FORTY-SIX
Jake
THE HEIR OF NOTHING
Victoria, Connecticut
“I want to get this done today. Your lawyers said before the end of the summer, and now we’re in October. Do any of them own a calendar?” Trent complains over the phone. “If I have to sit through another earnings call, I might blow my brains out.”
Oh, that couldn’t happen soon enough.
Three months. I haven’t been talking to Hailey in three months. We see each other sparsely, only when she’s on Trent’s arm. And I try not to make this any harder on her by stirring up a conversation that lasts more than a hello and goodbye.
Most of the time, she’s holed up on her side of the Koning estate like Belle from Beauty and the Beast, only the Beast is my soulless brother.
“If you would let me talk,” I say, exasperated. “I only have one more paper for you to sign. Then it’s finalized.” Trent had a breakthrough four weeks ago when he realized he’d rather be flying to Malta on a private jet than stuck in a boardroom dealing with investors and managing his stake in Koning. The Wolfe fortune he inherited by marriage is worth double what he has tied up in the beer company, all without the corporate politics and headaches.
He has convinced himself—or someone has slowly, surreptitiously planted the seeds—that transferring his stake to me, making me the majority owner, is the equivalent of settling me with the world’s worst case of gangrene.