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“This way, then,” Iris said. Simon started to follow us, but she stopped him with a look. “This is a family matter,” she said.

“And they’re my family,” he said, plainly but firmly.

“Simon.” Mom put a restraining hand on his arm. “It’ll be all right. Wait for us here.”

When Mom said it, he didn’t object. He squeezed her hand once for support, and then hung back as we trudged after Iris, Caleb following in our wake. She led us to a study, the walls covered in sturdy shelves, a huge oak desk at the center. An ashtray sat on the desk, a single half-spent cigarette balanced on its edge. I imagined it pinched in Leopold’s fingers, smoke curling from its end.

“What is all this about, Mother?” Mom asked as soon as the door closed behind us. “What more do you want from me?”

Iris didn’t answer at first. She crossed to a deep leather armchair and sank into it with a sigh. Her face was lined and weary. “Believe it or not, this isn’t about you, Rachel. Not everything is,” she said. Caleb frowned, but he didn’t intervene. Iris’s gaze shifted to me. “Helen. Helen Vaughan. You only have that name because you’re a bastard.”

“Don’t talk to her that way,” Mom snapped.

“I’m merely stating facts,” Iris said, waving a hand. “If you had married, she would have another name. But she is a Vaughan. Helen, this house is held in trust. The terms of that trust state that only a Vaughan can inherit.”

“Why does that matter?” I asked. “It’s not like I’m in line for the throne, or whatever.”

“It matters, as it turns out, a great deal,” Iris said. “Leopold altered his will shortly before his death. I have been granted a generous share of Leopold’s monetary assets. But because of the trust and because I do not have Vaughan blood, I own nothing of the house. Nor, as tradition would normally dictate, does Caleb.”

“Who does?” Mom asked, confusion written on her face.

“Your daughter,” Iris said flatly.

For a moment, I couldn’t process what she’d said. Then I gave a choked laugh. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it doesn’t, does it?” Iris asked. “And yet it is so. The house and a sizable portion of Leopold’s assets are yours.”

“But why?” I asked, my mind trying to pick up the information and put it together in a way that was anything but completely absurd. “I don’t even remember this place.”

“This is a joke,” Mom said.

“It isn’t,” Caleb said. He leaned against the edge of the desk, his arms folded loosely. “Rachel, he wanted to make things right. But he didn’t know how to reach out. This must have been his way of fixing things.”

“His way of controlling me,” Mom spat back.

“Your father is dead. Whatever his motivations were, they hardly matter now,” Iris replied. “What matters is that Harrow belongs to the Vaughans, and the Vaughans belong to Harrow. And that means you and your daughter.”

“Helen. We’re talking about millions of dollars, even aside from the house,” Caleb said, leaning toward me with an earnest expression.

“I know.” Did I? A million dollars wasn’t even a real number in my head, just an image of Scrooge McDuck diving into his coins. “How much, exactly?”

Caleb looked at Iris. Her lips pursed briefly. “You are to receive Harrowstone Hall and assets equivalent to approximately forty million dollars,” Iris said, almost reluctantly.

I rocked back. Forty. Million. That was forty Scrooge McDucks diving into forty swimming pool vaults of gold.

Forty million dollars, and this house.

Not for the first time since driving through the gates, I had the sense of a trap beginning to close around me.

“Tell her the rest,” Mom said, voice tight. “Tell her what it means to inherit this house.”

Iris looked at her for a long moment, then turned her unflinching gaze on me. “You are not merely inheriting a house. You would be Master—Mistress, in your case—of Harrow. And that comes with certain conditions.”

“What conditions?” I asked, certain I wasn’t going to like them.

“According to the traditions of Harrow, as codified in the trust, in order to become the Mistress of Harrow, you must remain in residence at Harrowstone Hall for a period of one year,” Iris said. “Once you accept, you cannot leave the grounds for any reason until the year is up.”

“Ayear?” I asked. Any fleeting excitement curdled at her words.