SHATTERED VOWS: An Arrange Marriage

CHAPTER 19: MORINA

I heard those words all through the night. After tossing and turning for hours, I grabbed my phone to read the signs. My horoscope was a freaking b***h. It literally read, Listen to the omen given to you yesterday. It will serve you well.

Oh, shut up. I purposely hadn’t set my alarm. I wasn’t going to wake to the sun or the waves either. I had every intention of sleeping in and missing the stupid will reading. Still, something in the kitchen fell and woke me right at eight thirty. If my grandmother wasn’t haunting me, she was at least trying to send signs. I kicked off my weighted blanket.

“Grandma, this is absolutely f*****g ridiculous.”

Somehow, yelling into the air made me feel better as I got ready. I didn’t put on a nice blouse or even a cute dress. Instead, I threw on a black bikini with a yellow tank over it. I pulled on my board shorts and headed out.

I wasn’t getting ready for any of them. I’d go surf right after the meeting and put the whole damn thing behind me. I took my time, letting my old pickup idle along. Jonah had gifted it to me on my seventeenth birthday and it looked perfectly out of place in the law firm’s parking lot. When I arrived at last, Bastian’s eyebrows rose as he looked me over.

No surprise, he wore his normal navy suit and Dante was occupied on his phone. I rolled my eyes at them, but when I spotted the estate lawyer and another man sitting in the room, I almost apologized for my attire and the fact I was right on time.

Of course, everyone else had been ten minutes early. Instead, I took the last empty seat and presented my identification when asked.

“Well, I appreciate you all being here today. I’m Mr. Finley, and Maribel asked me to present the will to you all rather than mail it,” the thin man with wiry glasses announced as he shifted some paperwork on his worn desk.

“It’s not under great circumstances, but your grandmother got this will together years ago and has updated it time and time again. It was important to her that you were all here to understand her terms.”

My stomach flipped at his words. This was the one place Grandma didn’t have me come with her. We’d done the funeral planning together.

The banks and this part though, she’d said over and over, “I’ll iron it out myself.”

Then, she’d send me off to the food truck or I’d try to go volunteer at the humane society.

"So.” Mr. Finley’s bony pointer finger pointed to the ceiling.

“This is a will with a few quirks, which is why we also have Mr. Armanelli’s lawyer here.” I narrowed my eyes and glared at my one-night stand turned nightmare.

He’d brought his freaking lawyer? “How convenient,” I grumbled.

Mr. Finley cleared his throat. “I’ll be honest, your grandma’s note to you explains everything in layman's terms, but I’ll do that for you now as well.” He handed me a letter.

“I’m sorry. This is from my grandma?” I gripped the letter a little harder.

“Yes. She wrote it specifically for you after she finished her final changes to the will.”

The date on the envelope was only a couple of days before her death.

“She died two days later,” I whispered.

This letter held words she’d never told me. It was a way to hear her thoughts one last time; a connection that carried past her dying. When I read this letter, I wouldn’t be alone for those two minutes. She’d talk to me one last time.

A lone tear spilled from my eye, and I quickly swiped it away. When I glanced up, Bastian studied me with a frown on his face. Did he understand the pain of losing someone beloved? Of being all alone? His frown fell away to an apathetic stare. Of course he didn’t. I turned away and sat taller in my seat.

“I’ll read this later. I’d like to hear the terms of her will so we can all be on our way.”

“That’s fine.” Mr. Finley went over some legal jargon and stated that the will held the final say in everything.

Then, he went into a story I’d never heard.

“Your great-great-grandfather was the founder of Tropical Oil and Fuel. He ran the ports, the tank farms, and the transfers.”

“My great-great-grandfather?”

I raised my eyebrows, completely confused by the mention of the oil company that ran the town. We had no ties to that.

“Yes, he came from Ireland with a good amount of money already. He utilized that and his connections to start this business.” Bastian shifted in his seat, nodding to Dante, who pulled out his stupid phone.

“They formed a lot of partnerships. Your grandma was a woman who made things happen. She had ties back in Ireland. So, the partners let the company run this way. They won’t do that any longer. They want the company sold to a specific shareholder, Ronald, who also owns their competitor, SeashellOil.” I scoffed at the name.

The town knew it very well. SeashellOil wanted to make the tanks, the ports, everything corporate. They would push the terminals to their limits.

“Well that’s never happening. Tropical Oil hates SeashellOil.”

“Your grandma hated them,” he corrected me.

“She had a majority vote, but without that, Tropical Oil will be sold to the highest bidder. We all know who that will be.” Pieces of my life fell into place suddenly.

The way Grandma would watch the news on the oil plant with so much passion or how she’d be furious if something went wrong with it. I’d thought she cared about the town, and maybe she had, but now many more things made sense.

“But everyone hates them. I mean—”

“The board is willing to sell.” The lawyer cleared his throat.

“They want to sell.” I turned and glared at Bastian.

“And you? Are you here to get your share of it too?”

“If she gave me some of it, Morina, I’m here to be a part of whatever she wanted me to be. I’ve made it known to everyone that I want those shares. I explained my plans for cleaner energy, for making your city thrive. I won’t sell. I’ll make the company better. I wanted to do it legally, without the partnerships you’ve all been nurturing.”

“Nurturing?” He looked toward the ceiling, a sure sign that he was irritated.

“That food truck wouldn’t be running without some Irish ties. We discussed this already. I won’t work with them.”

“That was hardly nurturing a partnership—"

“Your grandmother had more than that.” Bastian cut me off.

“I’ll buy your shares. Fair price. I’ll take care of this city … and you. You have my word.” Mr. Finley continued as if Bastian hadn’t spoken.

“So, your grandmother inherited these stocks and the company agreed to keep her identity secret. She moved from the city, changed her name. No one knew she was making large decisions for the company.” I grumbled and crossed my arms.

This was bullshit. Grandma had left me to go in completely blind. My heart beat faster and faster as his words sank in.

“Changed her name? Why?”

“It’s a dangerous business.” Bastian filled the silence in the room, like he filled every space he entered.

“She wanted protection, probably for you and your parents.” Life had been simpler without knowing, and my simple ignorance bred a happiness I could live with.

“I’m sorry,” I wheezed, gripping the metal arm of the uncomfortable chair.

The world turned on its axis. The water that normally ebbed and flowed with the tides, whooshed over and tore apart my carefully concocted simple life. The whole world stopped. Even the water that I synced my breathing with. In that moment, I even believed the earth had turned flat and tipped over sideways, dropping me off a cascading waterfall.