Matthew shot to his feet. “Sure.” In a whisper of cashmere suit, he went to retrieve the large white box.

Curiosity rose to know what was in it. But at the same time, I was past caring.

More bullshit. More games.

None of it mattered because I was playing a different game. One they wouldn’t understand until it was too late.

Jasmine scooted her wheelchair back a little, giving Matthew access to the table.

He smiled in thanks, placing the heavy box before his father. Marshall stood up and opened the lid while his son sat back down.

I sniffed, trying hard to clear my nostrils of blood. The pounding headache made everything fuzzy—a struggle to completely follow. I wanted to be coherent for whatever was about to happen.

No one spoke as Marshall removed reams and reams of paper and stacked them in neat piles on the table. The more he withdrew, the more aged the paper became. The first pile was pristinely white, neat edges, and uniformed lettering from a computer and printer.

The next stack was thin and cream-coloured, smudged edges, and the fuzzy blocks of a typewriter ribbon.

What is going on?

The third was yellowed and crinkled, shabby with torn edges, and the spidery scrawl of human penmanship.

And the final stack was moth-eaten, the colour of coffee, and swirling calligraphy of an art lost long ago.

That colour…

Its coffee bean shade was similar to the Debt Inheritance scraps Cut had given me at my welcome luncheon.

Could it be…

My attention zeroed in on Cut.

“Do you hazard a guess as to what that is, Nila?”

I shivered at the fatherly way he said my name, as if this was a family lesson. Something to be proud of and honoured to be an exclusive member.

I don’t need to guess.

I cocked my chin. “No, I don’t.”

He chuckled. “Come now. You already know. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jasmine huffed. “Just be honest. For once in your life.” Her voice dropped to a harsh curse. “Don’t make this any worse, for God’s sake.”

Whoa…

After everything she’d done. After cuddling up to her father after he shot Jethro and Kes and promising me a world of hurt for being responsible for such a tragedy, she had the audacity to make it seem as if I were unappreciative and uncooperative.

Not going to fly anymore.

Screw being meek and quiet.

I’d tried that.

Now, I snapped.

Turning to face her, my hackles rose. The claws I’d grown when I’d first arrived unsheathed, and I wanted nothing more than to drag them across her face. “I’d watch what you say to me…bitch.”

The room sucked into a dark hole, hovering in space, glacial and deadly.

The curse hovered between us, not fading—if possible, only growing louder the more the silence deafened.

I never swore. Ever. I never called people names or stooped to such a crass level. But since Jethro had died, I’d sunk steadily into profanity, and the power of that simple word bolstered my courage a thousand times.

I loved the righteous power it gave me.

I loved the shock factor it delivered.

Jaz gaped. “What did you just call me?”

I smiled as if I had a mouthful of sugar. “Bitch. I called you a bitch. A motherfucking bitch, and I think you’ll find the name suits you.”

Bonnie slapped her cane onto the table, cracking the palpable tension. “Watch your tongue, hussy. I’ll have it ripped out before you can—”

Jaz held up her hand. “Grandmamma, let me handle this.” Her eyes narrowed to bronze blades. “Let me get this straight. I’m the bitch? I’m the bitch for loving my brothers so much that I now want to avenge their deaths by killing the person who took theirs? I’m the bitch because I gave everything to Jethro, including the use of my legs, and don’t deserve to honour his memory by making you suffer?”

Her face turned red. “Excuse me if you don’t think I’m worth that, Ms. High and Fucking Mighty. Perhaps, we should kill your brother and see what sort of person you’d turn into.”

My heart exploded at the mention of harming Vaughn. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

“Address me properly and we’ll see.” Jasmine shoved her face close to mine. “Behave yourself and your twin will walk away when you die. Don’t, and his head will be in the basket beside yours.”

Oh, my God.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t even speak through the horrors of what she’d said.

“If you so much as touch him—”

“You’ll what? Kill me? Yeah, right.” Jaz rolled her eyes. “Like anyone believes you’re capable of that, little Weaver. Even Jethro knew you could never hurt him and that’s why he—”

I slapped my hands over my ears. “Stop it!”

Daniel broke out into loud guffaws. “Well, fuck me, sis. You’re kinda badass.”

Jaz looked at her younger brother. The harsh glint in her eyes increased with maliciousness. “You have no idea, baby brother.”

Cut clapped his hands. “Marshall continue. My mother must rest, and we have a lot to cover. Ignore any further outbursts and get on with it.”

Marshall nodded. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

Jasmine twisted away from me, facing the lawyers. She breathed steadily with no adverse reactions to our verbal war.