Prologue: Ella
“I’m so very sorry for your loss.” The lawyer shuffles back behind his desk, facing my father and me. His pot belly hangs low and maybe smells remotely of cigars. “Loretta was a fine woman.”
My father nods his bowed head. I just keep staring at that loser of a lawyer.
“Ah, yes. I haven’t met your lovely daughter yet. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vincent Rollo, a lawyer at this fine establishment.” He smirks. His eyes glint. For the money?
Brushing my hair behind my ear, I say, “I’m Ella Frank.”
“Ella,” he says, his smirk deepening. “I’ve been the family lawyer for a long while now. Isn’t that wonderful?”
I stare at him blankly. “That’s great. Now, can you just tell us what’s on my grandmother’s will? Please?”
“Ah, yes!” He pulls out a piece of paper and, after a few rustles, begins to read. “‘The last will and testament of Loretta Mary Frank.’ Let’s see… bequests… bequests…”
“Hey, Dad?” I whisper to him, making sure that Mr. Rollo can’t hear.
“Yes, sweetie?” He lifts his head and leans a bit closer. “What’s wrong?”
“What the hell does bequest mean?”
He laughs out loud. “Oh. A bequest is a request from a will. It could be an object that the person left for you, or a request for something they wish you’d do.”
I roll my eyes. “Great.” What did you cook up for me, Grandma?
“Ah, yes!”—Mr. Rollo seems to like that phrase—“Here it is! ‘Bequests’…
“To Mr. James Timothy Frank, I leave my house and all possessions. Jimmy, you have always been a great son and support to me. I hope you’ll live the rest of your life in happiness.
“To Miss Ella Louise Evans, I leave only a small request. My best friend must be devastated that I am dead, unless she is dead herself. She’s been awfully worried about her grandson, Ian, for a long time. He’s never been fond of a girl before, and the whole family, a very ancient and noble one, is concerned that he will not marry. I only ask this: marry the poor boy, Ella. I know you both are only nineteen. However, this isn’t just help for him… It’s for your own safety.”
