Mr. Davis had the sort of slouch that spoke to a life spent dealing with impossible people, but even he seemed exhausted as he gestured Roman and Misty into the conference room. The long, polished table reflected the strained faces regarding it. Roman was first in, tight-jawed, shoulders squared like a man preparing for battle. Misty trailed behind, the heels of her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her oversized sweater, eyes darting about as if seeking avenues of escape.
Richard and Ronnie leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, observing the interplay like spectators in a ringside boxing match. Neither brother interrupted-at least not yet-but both men were as silent and seemingly evaluating Misty. She wasn't what they had expected. She wasn't glamorous, seductive, or dripping in gold. She looked too normal, too young, too bewildered to fit the calculated mistress image. Still, Roman refused to believe the confusion on her face.
"Sit," said Mr. Davis sharply.
Roman sat down with a heavy exhalation, easing back as if to prove he wasn't intimidated. Misty sat down too, scooting her chair slightly away from him-to put as much distance between them as possible. The tension was loud, almost physical, buzzing in the air and filling every nook within the room.
"Let's make this clear," Mr. Davis began, folding his hands on the table. "This meeting is to clarify certain… unique requirements in your father's will."
"Unique?" Roman muttered. "Try unbelievable."
Misty arched a brow. "You barged into my house and accused me of being a home-wrecking thief. Everything today has been unbelievable."
Roman gave her a glare, and she shot it right back at him. Neither one of them looked away.
Before things could escalate again, Mr. Davis cut in. "Your father declared that any and all discussions about the inheritance need Misty present." He turned to her. "He also said you have the right to know about every aspect of the estate's setup. That includes attending every meeting."
Misty blinked, taken aback by the unexpectedness of it all. "Why? I didn't even know that he had children. I didn't even know that he was married! You expect me to believe he put my name in some billionaire-level will?"
Roman snorted, "Oh, please, spare us the performance.
"It's not a performance," she snapped back, "I'm confused because this makes no sense!
"Convenient."
"Childish."
The brothers in the back exchanged a look; under his breath, Ronnie let out a low whistle.
Mr. Davis raised his voice slightly: "Enough. Roman, Misty--whatever problems you have with each other, they need to be put aside. There are legal obligations here. Obligations neither of you can disregard."
Roman leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "You're telling me my father trusted her more than his own sons?
"I'm telling you," Mr. Davis corrected, "that your father made decisions that he felt were necessary. Whether you agree with those decisions or not does not change the legalities."
Misty folded her arms. "Well, I don't want anything from your father. I didn't ask for this."
Roman let out a scoff, more bitter than amused. "Right. Yet here you are.
"I'm here because he"-she pointed at Mr. Davis-"called me and insisted I come, not because I wanted to sit next to you."
The lines of Roman's lean body were pulled even tighter, with annoyance stiffening his jaw. "You know what I think? I think you're lying. I think you knew exactly who my father was. I think you manipulated him."
Misty leaned forward, her eyes ablaze. "If I was manipulating someone, would I still be living in a tiny apartment with peeling paint and mismatched furniture? Use your brain, Roman."
Richard actually coughed to mask the laugh. Roman didn't pay attention, though his annoyance doubled.
Mr. Davis pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is precisely why I wanted you two here--to clear misunderstandings so we can move forward. Now, the will does not specify the nature of your relationship with Mr. Vallard, Misty. But it does specify that you were important to him."
"That's insane," she muttered. "I barely knew him."
Roman narrowed his eyes. "How convenient again."
Misty groaned. "Don't you have some other word aside from 'convenient'?"
"You don't have any other lie besides 'I didn't know'?
"Both of you," said Mr. Davis firmly, "are going to be silent.
They did, though grudgingly. Mr. Davis slid a document forward.
"The clause, it binds all three brothers and Misty to attend every discussion. If any one person refuses to cooperate, the inheritance process is paused."
Ronnie stepped forward. "Paused for how long?"
"Indefinitely."
Roman's fists clenched under the table.
Misty's eyebrows shot up. "So, basically, if he refuses to sit with me, you three lose everything?"
"Exactly," said Mr. Davis.
Roman's head turned to her, his suspicion sharpening his gaze. "You think that gives you power?
"I think it gives me a headache," she shot back. "I don't even want to be in this mess, and now I'm apparently dragging you all with me."
Then the bickering rose again, sharp words, pointed tones, the kind of heated exchange that made the room feel smaller by the second.
"Stop," Mr. Davis finally barked, slamming his palm on the table. The sudden sound silenced them instantaneously. "If you two cannot maintain basic civility, I will suspend this meeting until you can act like adults."
Neither spoke.
There was only the heavy sound of their breathing for one moment.
Misty then stood. "I need a minute." She walked to the hallway, shutting the door behind her without waiting for permission.
The moment she was gone, he leaned back and said under his breath, "Gold digger." Her voice drifted back just as sharp from the hallway: "Rich idiot." Roman's eyes widened slightly; he hadn't expected her to hear him. Richard chuckled. Ronnie shook his head. Mr. Davis merely sighed. The war had officially begun.