I flip through the papers, still not believing this. Ashcroft Industries is a huge corporation, with divisions in shipping, lumber, pharmaceuticals... And I’m the boss now?
“The old man liked to travel, so you’ve got property all over the world,” Justine continues. “Houses in London and Paris, a beach-front mansion in the Caribbean. The main Ashcroft estate is on the East Coast, some fancy big house with stables and a lake. And then there’s a crap ton of other rich people stuff. You know, art, jewelry, a yacht...”
I don’t know. I stare at the pages in a daze. I feel like I’m looking at a glossy fashion magazine showing the glamorous life of some complete stranger.
But it’s mine now.
“What about Brent?” I look up, still not believing this could actually be real. “You heard him. He said he’d get the will thrown out in court.”
“He can’t. This thing is iron-clad.” Justine munches on some bacon. “Ashcroft probably knew his kids would flip their shit, so he covered all his bases. Had three different doctors sign affidavits to his mental state and judgment, so nobody can claim he was off his rocker when he named you heir.”
“But that’s great, right?” I feel a rush of relief.
Justine makes a face. “There’s one thing I don’t like. The morality clause.”
I blink. “The what?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of weird,” she agrees. “Basically, if any of the heirs ‘pursue activities that are against the moral code of the company,’ they’ll be disinherited and left with nothing.” She quotes from the paper.
“I don’t get it.”
Justine explains, “Ashcroft didn’t want the company getting involved in any kind of shady business practices or morally bad shit. You know, having their drug companies do creepy human trials, or get child labor orphans in the Third World to make their products. I get it. I mean, he built the business from nothing, and didn’t want to see it used for evil.”
“That’s great.” I smile at the thought of Ashcroft caring enough to make sure his legacy wasn’t corrupted.
“Yes, but the language is way too flexible.” Justine points out. “It could cover stuff you do in your personal life, not just Ashcroft Industries. And who says what’s moral or immoral? Is Brent going to take you to court if you get a speeding ticket, or, like, get arrested for something totally bogus? Not that you need to worry about that,” she adds with a smirk. “You’re as squeaky clean as they come.”
Except I’m not.
I stare at her in horror, realizing for the first time what Brent is playing at filing those complaints about me at work.
“The law firm,” I gasp, my heart racing with dread. “You know they suspended me.”
Justine waves her hand. “That’s bullshit. You don’t need them anyway, not anymore.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand, they’re investigating me for having inappropriate relationships with the clients. My employment contract, it has a morality code too. That’s what they’d use as ground for dismissal.”
“Oh shit.” Justine’s eyes widen as it clicks into place. “That was the plan all along. If the firm fires you for unethical behavior, that sets a precedent for Aschroft’s kids. They can just point to what happened at work, and the decision is already made.”
“Proof that I’m an immoral slut, even if nothing happened with Ashcroft,” I whisper, finishing for her. I can’t believe that they would be so underhand -- or that they’re probably going to get away with it. “What can I do?”
“I don’t know. At least, not yet,” Justine adds, seeing my face. “We’ll figure something out, don’t worry.”
I pause, wondering what can be done. A man like Brent would stop at nothing, no wonder he looked so smug every time I met him. He was probably planning this the moment he heard about the will.
“You know, I didn’t even want this.” I nod to the folder detailing Ashcroft’s estate. “I didn’t feel like I deserved it. I don’t know why Ashcroft wanted me to have everything, But now... “ I feel a spark of determination. “They’re playing dirty. And that makes me want to fight.”
“Atta girl.” Justine grins. “I’ve got a couple of ideas up my sleeve that might shut them up.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing I can talk about yet,” she replies mysteriously. “I’ll let you know as soon as something works out.”
* * *
Justine has to get to work, so I find myself totally free in the middle of the day for the first time in years. I drive over to Beverly Hills and park near Rodeo Drive, strolling the sunny, palm tree-lined streets in a daze. The people here are all glossy and chic, in designer clothes and fancy sunglasses, even if they’re just in work-out gear going to grab a coffee.