Chapter 40 Mila Convict stopped dead and stared at the portraits. "That is fucked up." I shrugged and walked on. "They've been there all my life. I'm used to them." He caught up. "They aren't of you?" I swung back and gawked at him, open-mouthed. "That's my grandmother when she was a young woman. You thought it was me? Ew." He blinked then scrubbed his face. "I need an eyebath, stat." A laugh flew from between my lips, and I peered up at the nearest photo. As a teenager, the bare breasts had felt awkward but I'd stopped seeing them. "I guess we do look alike. My grandfather loved her so much. See how he put her on a pedestal? He adored her above all things, and the pictures were taken at the point he fell in love with her. That's how he explained this to me." A sound came from somewhere in the house, directing us both to face down the hall. Adrenaline spiked my heartbeat, reminding me of my task. At last, I was here. They couldn't block me out if I was right in front of them. Still, I was scared as hell. "Hello?" I called out. No answer came. The first room, a little-used cinema, was empty and dark. Prowling further down the corridor brought us to a formal dining area, bathed in moonlight and vacant. Convict walked a step ahead of me, his hand wrapped around mine and his focus sharp. The hall opened out to a vestibule, and I pushed open the kitchen door. It made no sense that a visitor had just left, but no one was around to see him go. I called out again, but no reply followed. In the kitchen, my gaze locked on to a barometer on the wall. It had come from a ship, and my grandfather would tap it to check the rising or falling pressure and predict the weather. A wave of sadness captured me. On almost every other occasion visiting here, he'd been alive. I'd hear him before I'd see him. That's what was so odd. The silence that came after death. The lack of a man who'd been so larger than life that his energy had filled the space around him. As if he sensed my turmoil, Convict ran an arm around me from behind to hold me with my back to his chest. I turned to face him. "It's so weird. I miss him in the oddest moments." He brushed a stray lock of hair from my eyes. "I'm sorry." I rested my head on his chest and let the unhappiness well and fade in the tiny moment of peace in a fraught evening. A figure loomed at us from across the kitchen, something flashing in their hands. I screamed. The sound erupted from me and cut through the still air. It was a repeat of the burger place where Esther's mother had tried to stab me. Except this time, in a heartbeat, I was behind Convict and he'd palmed his blade, his stance protective. But our assailant uttered a matching scream and tumbled to the floor, a cereal bowl dropping from his hands and shattering. The shiny spoon he'd been holding clattered across the tile, and milk and frosted flakes pooled at the feet of a man I knew well. "Wallace," I gasped. In a blue satin dressing gown, and with headphones dislodged from his ears, my uncle scurried back until his spine hit the cabinets. His focus stayed fully on the man guarding me. I exhaled my panic and squeezed Convict's arm. "It's okay." Wallace's terrified gaze jumped from the knife to me. "Emilia? What the hell?" At last I'd get to speak to him, but with his expression souring by the second, Wallace was not so happy to see me. Ten minutes later, with the mess cleared up, we'd relocated to the den. Wallace regarded me with a baleful expression which sank to fear each time he snuck a look at Convict. Every word since our shock encounter had been a gripe. "You should have let me know you were coming." He took a sip of the hot drink he'd made himself, a swig of something stronger added. I huffed an unfunny laugh. "I've been trying to speak to you for a month and you never replied to a single message." He wafted a hand. "What can I say? I've been busy." Busy sunning himself, from the deep tan. "You managed to go see my family." "I was in the area. I thought your mother might make you see sense." Yeah, right. "You were paying her off to talk to me." "It worked in the past. She took my parents' money to have you." I fought to keep my expression clear. Convict had once guessed that little fact. I hated that it could be true. "Is my grandmother here?" "No. She doesn't want to see you either, so I don't know why you're harassing her. Let the poor woman grieve." Pain pierced my frustration with him. "I'm grieving, too. The company is in turmoil. It's important that I see her before the meeting on Friday." Wallace rolled his eyes. "There's nothing to say. In fact, maybe it's a good thing that you broke into the house in the middle of the night because we get to have this talk. Listen, Emilia. It's better for the whole family if you vote with us. Mother might be grieving, but she isn't acting in grief. She knows exactly what she wants. Give up this champion role. You don't need to do it anymore. We should respect the choice of the remaining founder of the business." I clamped down on the urge to yell at him. "What about all the people dependent on it? What about the work that just stopped? What about the boats left to rot in the harbour? Do you know what happened to the Eden?" He heaved a sigh. "I heard. My money is on one of the greedy parasites doing it out of spite." He sniffed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Money is always an issue, but if you're concerned about that, you should know there's a huge payout coming your way. Father told me it would be in his will." "I don't care about money. Why does your mother want the company shut down?" S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "It's none of my business, and it isn't yours either." "Is she being influenced by Rhys Jacobs?" "Never heard of him in my life, and you sound delusional." His gaze held mine. "Stop it. Now. Don't hurt her by voting against her." "I'm not trying to hurt her. I'm trying to do what's best for everyone." "Why? You're free from it all. Get on a plane. Get some sun. At last, go live your own life." I had no answer to that. Marchant Haulage was my life. It had been all I'd known for years, just the same as for my grandfather. In the face of Wallace's complete apathy, my arguments dried up on my tongue. Wallace climbed to his feet, bundling himself tighter in his dressing gown. "If you're done whining, I'm going to bed." I stared after him. "Will you at least ask her to call me?" "I won't. You need to learn when to leave well enough alone. Oh, and by the way, next time? Just knock at the door, and leave the scary minder at the gate." He shuffled from the room, leaving Convict and me to stare at each other. Convict lifted a single questioning eyebrow. Crestfallen, I stood. If my grandmother was here, she would've come out. I didn't doubt that for a second. Even so, I poked my nose into the other rooms, including her bedroom. All empty. My grandfather's office was soulless and cold. There was nothing for it but for us to leave. On the drive back, my thoughts tumbled together. I'd been fighting a battle I was so sure was worth winning, yet at each challenge, more doubt trickled in. Over and over in my mind, I replayed the talks I'd had with my grandfather. How he'd impressed on me the scale of what he'd built and how much good it did. There were needy people depending on the business, but that had been at a point in time and needs had changed. My thoughts flipped to Wallace's challenge. I didn't want to act against my family. I'd spent my life acting for them. Was this all still worthwhile? Or was I wholly acting in grief as I'd accused my grandmother of doing? Back at the warehouse, Convict led me inside, and in the central corridor, I lifted my gaze to find my brother approaching. "Can I talk to you?" I blurted. Kane followed me into an office. Convict hesitated at the door. "No, I'm not listening in," he said low before shutting himself out to give us privacy. I faced Kane. "Why did you take this job?" He folded his thick arms but didn't answer. "For the money, right? Because Marchant Haulage stopped paying out?" Something ticked over in his vision. "Correct." I managed a shaky nod. "Is it enough?" I had no idea what the skeleton crew paid, but my grandfather's handouts had been generous. Kane tightened his jaw. "It never could be." I already knew he wouldn't tell me what the money was used for, I'd asked before and been shot down in flames. I had one final question to ask. "We need to fight for this business, don't we?" The pain in his eyes spoke volumes. "I'll never stop." Certainty settled my writhing belly. That's all I needed. A reason. If not for my grandmother, and if not for all the relatives I thought needed it, I had to stick to my guns for the sake of my grandfather's legacy, and for whoever Kane was protecting. What was I if I didn't have this?