"With the will being disputed, the company shares and assets will, of course, be frozen by the court. Which ans you have no right to be sitting here, Elyn rrit," ryl says sharply.
The words are insulting but her tone is polished, refined, and wrapped in the kind of sophistication only old money can afford.
It makes the statent less offensive. I have to give her credit for that.
This is ryl Hansley. Logan’s great-aunt. The eldest daughter of his grandfather. The one who married a foreign mogul and disappeared into a life of obscene wealth.
She was born rich. She has always been rich.
I’ve only t her once, at my wedding. We exchanged polite smiles and nothing more. Not enough ti to know her. Not enough to understand what kind of woman she truly is.
Maybe she isn’t here for the money. Maybe she just wants Logan’s assets to go to the "right" hands. But if she is after the inheritance, then she’s greedier than I imagined. Luxury drips from her every movent, I doubt she needs a single cent of what Logan left behind.
"There were complications with my international transport docunts," ryl continues smoothly, "which prevented from returning sooner, despite my strong desire to be here the mont I learned of Logan’s death."
Her gaze sharpens.
"However, based on the investigation, Logan had been taking antidepressants." She pauses, letting the implication sink in. "Which leads to conclude that my nephew was not of sound mind when he drafted his will."
Murmurs ripple through the room. Soft gasps.
"It’s not sothing a keen eye would miss," ryl adds, smiling at , calculated, almost pleased. As if she has already cast as the villain in her story. The villain she must eliminate to secure her happy-ever-after.
The thought makes shudder.
If anything, she looks far more like the villain between the two of us.
"It is also worth investigating," she continues, "whether Logan truly understood the nature of your relationship when the will was made. If he believed you were his legal spouse at the ti, that changes everything."
Her stare crawls over my skin.
I don’t know whether Logan knew about our unregistered marriage before he died and the uncertainty knots my stomach. Tight. Suffocating.
Maybe... maybe I should just give it up.
I don’t want the inheritance. I don’t want the company shares. ryl isn’t Candice or Cora. She’s a Hansley by blood. Even if greed brought her here, she still fits better into this world than I ever will. She’s his aunt. The founder’s daughter. I figure she’ll make a better successor.
"Aunt ryl."
The new voice cuts cleanly through the room, silencing every murmur.
We all turn.
My breath catches.
My jaw drops.
Guess what? There’s another surprise!
Dressed in a crisp navy-blue suit, a man steps into the conference room and stops a few feet from ryl. He faces the crowd, lifting a hand in a casual, confident wave.
Nico Hansley.
Logan’s half-brother. The illegitimate son who vanished three years ago, erased from the surface of the earth.
He’s also my childhood friend. The sa person I begged for help when I was in prison. The one I asked Dahlia to contact.
He never ca, though. Didn’t even send a single ssage. So of course I never thought I’d see him again.
And yet—here he is. In the flesh.
"Logan was of sound mind when he made the will, Aunt ryl," Nico says.
Then he turns to the room. "For those of you who don’t know , I’m Nico Hansley. Logan’s half-brother." His lips curve faintly. "The Hansley bastard."
Great.
This has officially turned into a full-blown drama.
The air feels heavier, hotter, almost suffocating, and I’m right in the middle of it, when all I want is to sleep, eat in my apartnt, and enjoy what was supposed to be a quiet vacation.
"And how can you be so certain he was of sound mind, Nico?" ryl asks, her gaze sharp, venomous. "You weren’t even here. And I highly doubt you maintained regular communication with Logan."
"I didn’t. That’s true," Nico replies calmly, unbothered. His tone is smooth, almost lazy, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "But I did speak with the psychiatrist Logan had been consulting."
ryl stiffens.
"He only began consultations two months ago," Nico continues, "and he had been on antidepressants for just one month."
"The will was made six months ago," I say.
So that should rule out Logan being ntally unfit when the will was written, right?
"But he could have been struggling long before he sought professional help—"
"That’s hypothetical," I cut in, my voice firm. "There’s no evidence to support that claim, Ms. ryl. What you’re suggesting is purely an assumption."
Her eyes turn icy, sharp enough to freeze where I stand.
"But we also can’t rule out the possibility that you manipulated him," she says coldly. "Why would Logan leave his company shares to you when he knew you weren’t legally his spouse? Unless you led him to believe otherwise. Unless he thought you were married, and therefore believed it was only right to leave you his assets."
I press my lips together.
I don’t even know why I’m fighting anymore. The Hansley Group shouldn’t concern . It was never my ambition. Never my dream.
But... the thought of Logan’s hard work falling into the wrong hands twists sothing inside my chest.
We weren’t in love. But we shared sothing... sothing civil, sothing almost like a friendship. He wasn’t affectionate, but he was kind and helpful. And that has to count for sothing.
The conference room doors open again.
This ti, an elderly man enters in a wheelchair, pushed by a man in a black suit.
I don’t recognize the old man, but the one behind him is unmistakably familiar.
Sothing clicks in my head.
The man pushing the wheelchair is a mber of Greg’s security.
What is he doing here? And who is this old man?
"Lawyer Tyson," Director Bennett says, his stunned expression is enough to tell that the old man is soone important.
The room goes dead silent.
"I’m Fred Tyson," the old man says evenly. "A friend and forr lawyer of Logan’s father, the late Mr. Hansley."
"I drafted Logan’s will according to his explicit wishes," Mr. Tyson continues. "I’m here to clarify that the docunt is legally valid, and that Logan was of sound mind at the ti."
My pulse hamrs.
"He first contacted nearly a year ago. We drafted the initial will then. Six months ago, we revised it without major changes."
The tightness in my chest eases, just a little.
If the will was drafted twice, months apart, with the sa intent, ryl can’t claim Logan wasn’t ntally capable.
"Regarding Logan and Ms. Elyn’s relationship," Mr. Tyson says, glancing briefly at before fixing ryl with a steely stare, "I can confirm that their relationship was not the determining factor in the inheritance."
ryl’s jaw tightens.
"I can’t speak on their private life," he adds calmly. "But Logan was fully aware that they were not legally married."
The silence that follows is heavy.
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