The papers landed harshly on the table, making the men flinch slightly.
Grey haired. Black suitted. Wrinkled face. Greedy assed. Exhausting. Frustrating MEN!!!
“WHAT?” I grumbled out furiously, scowling at all of them. They cleared their throats, nervously looking away.
One of them, with the most glaring guts, repeated the damn words.
“We're sorry, Alpha Trent, but we can't show you the company's financial statements. And don't get us wrong. We respect and acknowledge you as Vince's son…”
“But?” I snarled, fixing my dead glare at him.
He swallowed a lump and continued. “But Vince didn't leave a will that states that we hand everything to you when he's not here. He didn't authorize you to be his proxy. So we're sorry but we can't do it.”
I was standing, hands braced on the table
