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“What is it?” Vaughn asked.
I read the words out slowly. “In the event of both my and my future wife, Miranda Kemp’s, deaths, the entirety of our estate will be split equally between Mr. Vaughn Eugene Weston and Miss Rebel Rose Kemp. This includes my business, any cash in my bank accounts, and the property I own at three hundred and five, Smeeton Range Road…”
“What?” Vaughn growled. “Our parents weren’t even properly married, and you get half his estate?”
Shock punched through me. “I…I didn’t know. It’s dated months ago. They must have had it drawn up when they got engaged…”
Vaughn got off the bed, wobbling once, but the coffee and maybe his anger had helped sober him. “Do you have any idea how much my father’s estate is worth?”
I frowned at him. “No?”
He laughed bitterly. “Yes, you do. Was this your plan all along?”
I frowned, not sure if he was still talking gibberish because he was drunk or if he was honestly serious. “Plan? What are you talking about?”
He stalked across the room to me, fury in his eyes. “Where did you go after I saw you at the hotel bar the night before their wedding?”
Anger flamed through me at his tone and the unspoken implication behind it. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”
He kept coming, his big steps eating up the distance between us. “Did you do it?”
Fear flickered through me. I put the bed between us, my fingers hovering over the drawer with my gun in it. “Do what? Kill my own mother?”
“You clearly have it in you. You just told me you were planning a second murder. Third, I guess, since you already took out two people.”
I gaped at him. “You’re drunk. And insane. I never hurt my mother!”
“Then where were you that night?”
I yanked the drawer open and pulled out the gun, pointing it at him. “Get out.”
He ignored the gun and stared me in the eye. “Did you kill my father?”
“I already told you, no! Now get out!”
He shook his head and backed toward the door. “You aren’t getting half my father’s assets, Roach. Over my dead body.”
I waved the gun in his direction. “That can be arranged!”
His jaw hardened. “This isn’t done.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I’ll be seeing you when I move into my fancy new house.” It was a dig purely to get at him, because this was what I always did. Ran my damn mouth until it got me in trouble.
But this time, it succeeded. Vaughn backed out of the apartment, and I rushed to lock the door behind him.
Trembling with adrenaline, I perched on the edge of my bed, shakily putting the gun down next to me.
I’d had no idea about Mom’s and Bart’s will. No idea I’d been named one of the two beneficiaries of a multi-million-dollar estate.
I laughed, a giddy smile breaking on my face.
Only for it to fall just as quick.
Because that would have just given the cops all the probable motive they needed to pin a double homicide squarely on my shoulders.
10
REBEL