Lies Twist The Way We Think

Chapter 19 - Tobias Hawthorne and other issues

Hey my lovely readers,

I wanted to thank you. Thanks for sticking with me and Camille. She is difficult, and not always likeable, but she's supposed to be real and human and that's why she cannot always be a favourite. She has trauma, she is grieving her mother and she met terrible people when she was sixteen and was easily influenceable due to her mother's death. She knows addiction, depression and she knows violence. She was in a toxic relationship that she hasn't really left. He is much older than her. She's an older sister and had to mature way too quickly. She is fragile, and strong, and she is full of rage.

This is how things are. I hope you love her despite it, or maybe for it.

When I created Camille into this universe that already existed, she had one purpose: be a real, raw human being. My issue with The Inheritance Games was oftentimes that certain things or behaviours were overlooked. What do you mean, Alisa talks to Avery like that? What do you mean, they can all threaten Avery without any consequences? Also, the Latin in the books was horrendously wrong. I didn't take four years of Latin for nothing. I will change that. And I will change the plot holes (or create new ones, whatever).

Enjoy the peace while it lasts.

C. R. D. - M. L. T.

Sometimes I wonder if there is something wrong with me. If I am a sickness in this world, a deep rooted mistake someone has overseen, and now I poison everyone and everything I touch.

I don't see things the way other see them. I am brief in my description, and I focus on the wrong details, and why am I not ever happy? Avery's sight is clear, bright. Libby's is colourful and light. It's just me who's wrong.

I'd lay money that you're gone within the week. And maybe Grayson was right. Maybe I won't be able to stay long enough.

But maybe he's wrong. And that fuels me, because I love proving people wrong.

"They don't have a legal leg to stand on," Alisa confirms to me the next day. "Rest assured, we will shut this down. My father will be meeting with Zara and Constantine later today."

"Constantine?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes almost unnoticeably, but I catch it. "Zara's husband." I don't know if she's rolling her eyes at me or at him, but it's not the least bit comforting.

Thea's uncle, I remember.

"They know, of course, that they stand to lose a great deal by challenging the will. Zara's debts are substantial, and they won't be cleared if she files a suit. What Zara and Constantine don't know, and what my father will make very clear to them, is that even if a judge were to rule Mr. Hawthorne's latest will to be null and void, the distribution of his estate would then be governed by his prior will, and that will leave the Hawthorne family even less than this one."

"How long ago did Tobias write his prior will?" I ask, wondering if its only purpose had been to reinforce this one. It would make sense, for someone like him.

"Twenty years ago in August." Alisa ruled out that possibility. "The entire estate was to go to charity."

"Twenty years?" I repeat. That is longer than any of the Hawthorne grandsons except Nash have been alive. "He disinherited his daughters twenty years ago and never told them?" Given everything that Grayson and Xander have told me about their grandfather, that seems like a message. Leaving the money to me— and before me, to charity— isn't the point.

Disinheriting his family is.

"What the hell happened twenty years ago in August?" I ask.

Alisa seems to be weighing her response. My eyes narrow, and I wonder if any part of her is still loyal to Nash. To his family. Not the devil is your enemy.

If I know anything about Tobias Hawthorne, Grayson's letter might apply to me, too. And that also means that I can't trust anyone who is pretending to be on my side. Whatever that is.

"Mr. Hawthorne and his wife lost their son that summer. Toby. He was nineteen, the youngest of their children." Alisa pauses, then forges on. "Toby had taken several friends to one of his parents' vacation homes. There was a fire. Toby and three other young people perished, but Toby's remains were never found. That's why Skye thinks he might be alive."

My brain works overtime trying to integrate this information. "Couldn't Zara and Skye have their lawyer argue that the old will was invalid, too?" I ask. "Written under duress, or he was mad with grief, or shit like that?"

"Mr. Hawthorne signed a document reaffirming his will yearly," Alisa tells me. "He never changed it, until you."

Until us. My entire body tingles, just thinking about it. "How long ago was that?" I ask.

"Last year."

Maybe he knew our mother. Maybe he knew she died. Maybe he was sorry. Because that is what makes Libby different from us, right? Our mother.

What would Mum do? I wish you were here. I erase that thought immediately, because if you were here, you would mock me.

"You might also consider a one-time payment to the mother of Libby," Alisa says, all business. "Along with a nondisclosure agreement preventing her from talking about you, Avery, or Libby to the press."

She went to the press too? "Fine. But I am not giving a single penny to Drake." I don't bat an eye. This is incredibly important to me, and she notices that.

Alisa looks at me, then flashes a smile with her teeth. It's terrifying, and makes me like her more. "I'll find an alternative." Then she holds out a thick binder. "In the meantime, I've assembled some key information for you, and I have someone coming in this afternoon to work on your wardrobe and appearance. Avery's will be shortly after."

"My what?"

"You don't have the luxury to wear whatever you want. Avery and you, especially you, are the real story. People won't talk much about her because she's a minor and only," here she draws quotation marks in the air, "inherited Hawthorne House, whereas you are the first Hawthorne heiress. People love a good story, Camille, and you will have to give the best performance of your life."

I have no idea how we went from legal issues to a Hawthorne family tragedy to my wardrobe, but I won't fucking ask. "Alright. But can you arrange something else first?"

"What is it?"

There is only one person whom I trust with my wardrobe. Only one person with the best fashion sense in this world.