“And the furnace?”
“Already up to temperature.”
The words seemed to steal every ounce of air inside the box.
“Once he’s gone, the trust goes to me?”
“Most of it.”
“And the voting shares?”
“You’ll control them until the board convenes.”
That’s when I understood.
This wasn’t only about betrayal.
It was about Blackridge Bourbon.
My company.
My name.
My family’s legacy.
Harrison hadn’t just betrayed our friendship.
He and Victoria had decided to wipe me out and split everything I’d built between them.
Part Three: The Brother I Pushed Away
As they wheeled the coffin along, the rattle of the wheels shook through me.
Every bump sent a fresh wave of panic through my mind.
I tried to anchor myself on something other than fear.
That’s when I thought of my younger brother, Owen.
He should have been there.
But I hadn’t heard a trace of his voice.
We used to be inseparable.
As kids we’d race through the old barrel houses, ducking behind rows of oak casks while our father acted like he couldn’t find us.
After our parents passed, I stepped into running the company.
Owen wanted something quieter. He’d become a mechanical engineer and settled in Cincinnati.
Victoria never cared for him.
She claimed he resented my success.
She said his constant questions about the company were really about money.
She told me I needed to set limits.
Little by little, I stopped picking up his calls.
Our last conversation had gone badly.
“You don’t sound like yourself anymore,” Owen had said.
“I’m tired of your judgment.”
“I’m not judging you. I’m worried.”
“Then stop.”
That was six months ago.
Now I would have given anything just to hear his voice again.
The coffin came to a stop.
A car door slammed shut.
I heard Victoria talking to someone outside.
“My husband was very private. He wanted a direct cremation after the family service.”
That was a lie.
My family had been laid to rest for generations in the cemetery behind Blackridge Manor.
