Chapter 11: First Task
575 Words
Leo’s POV
I should have known Eleanor wouldn’t go quietly.
Literally.
“She wants us to do what?” Sienna’s voice was sharp enough to slice through marble.
The lawyer, a stiff-looking man named Harold Wentworth, barely blinked. “Per Eleanor’s final instructions, your first task as co-executors of her estate is to—” he cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses as if even he couldn’t believe it “—organize her burial.”
Sienna let out a dry laugh, pushing back her curls. “No offense, Harold, but I’m pretty sure that’s already been handled.”
Harold exhaled through his nose. “Indeed, Miss Clarke. However, Eleanor specified that she did not wish to remain in her current resting place. She, in her words, ‘deserves a send-off befitting a woman of style and grandeur.’”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’re telling me my grandmother wrote it into her will that she wants a second funeral?”
Harold nodded solemnly.
Sienna muttered under her breath, “She’s really outdoing herself.”
I sighed, leaning back in my chair. This was Eleanor. A woman who threw three different weddings for the same husband just to make sure she had the perfect pictures for each decade. A woman who once threw herself a pre-memorial service just to hear people eulogize her while she was still alive.
Of course, she’d make her own death an event.
“And what exactly are we supposed to do?” I asked.
Harold adjusted his glasses again. “Per her instructions, the two of you are to jointly plan and execute a ‘proper’ farewell. She has provided a list of… requests.”
Sienna looked like she was one inconvenience away from setting the entire office on fire. “What kind of requests?”
Harold reached into his briefcase, pulled out a thick envelope, and slid it across the table. “You’ll find all the necessary details inside.”
Neither of us moved.
Finally, Sienna picked up the envelope and ripped it open. Her eyes scanned the first page—and then she froze.
“What?” I demanded.
She tilted the page towards me. I scanned it, my mouth slowly falling open.
Oh, for f**k’s sake.
Among Eleanor’s modest requests:
A weekend-long celebration of her life at the estate, complete with themed dinner parties.
A dramatic, over-the-top procession through the vineyard.
Guests must wear Versace or Valentino.
A sky lantern release featuring handwritten messages from all her former lovers (the list spanned four pages).
And the crown jewel of insanity?
The two of us, together, had to write and deliver her eulogy.
I exhaled slowly. “She’s kidding, right?”
Sienna dropped the papers onto the desk like they burned her. “Oh, she’s serious.”
I stared at the document, my jaw tightening.
This wasn’t just Eleanor’s usual dramatics.
No.
This was deliberate.
Sienna tapped her nails against the armrest, her voice flat and unreadable. “You think she did this on purpose?”
I let out a humorless chuckle. “Oh, absolutely.”
Eleanor knew exactly what she was doing.
She was making sure that no matter how much we hated it—no matter how much Sienna and I wanted to avoid each other—we were stuck.
Together.
For at least a month.
And based on the look on Sienna’s face, she was already plotting her own funeral—or mine.
- Writer
