The Inheritance Contract

inside Bellrose Books. She peeked down from her perch atop a ladder, where she was fixing a w

he?" Sera called down, her voice bouncing

ses making her eyes look extra big. "Just popped in for my Agath

characters in a mystery novel. "Don't you worry, I saved the

Every book held a whole different world inside, a chance to escape, have adventures, or find comfort

reet in Brooklyn, it felt like a cozy hideaway from the noisy city outside. The air smell

scarier. The stack of bills on her desk seemed to g

om's voice, usually strong and c

latest mystery plots with Mrs. Goldstein. When they left, Winston waddling behind, Sera's smile f

indow, shining on her mom, who looked tiny and frail propped up on the pillows. Even sick, Eleanor Bellrose was

to hide how tired she was. "Was that Millie Goldstein? You know

s hand. "She's upset with the state of mysteries th

"Those made-up detectives are nothing like the real deal. Speaking o

era knew it

she said gently, trying to steer the conversation a

ork City, that one. And they say he's just as charming as his grandfather

Millions to City Arts. The picture showed a man who looked like he was made of stone – all sharp edges, serious eyes, and a jawline y

ng she wasn't – rich, powerful, untouchable. He probably didn't even know what it felt like

is fancy friends are a million miles away from us

ed look Sera felt inside. "Sweetheart, I know you're

washing over her. "Don't you worry about any o

was, they were running out of options. And Sera was starting to fear that ev

me's relentless march. Sera knew what her mother was thinking, even if it remained unspoken. The experimental treatmen

k. "I know, love," she murmured, her voice soft but firm. "No more talk of impossible bills and even more

g-eared page, a testament to their shared history, to countless evenings spent escaping into Jane Austen's world of witty banter and y

had a flair for dra

iterary bubble. With a sigh, Sera set the book aside, digging through a jumble of receipts, dog-eared b

ng to sell me life insurance or double glazing," Ser

o sweep you off your feet," her mothe

f Mr. Darcy were real, Mum, he'd be too busy managing his estate and broo

ra pressed the answer button, raising her voice in a tone that wa

le

voice, tinged with an air of authority that sent a

he intrusion, but I believe we ha

wrong number," Sera began, h

," the voice interrupted, a hint of amusement creeping

se quickening. "Who is this?

et me. Tonight. Eight o'clock. The Oak Room at The Plaz

ne wen

as a world away from her quiet life in Brooklyn, a world of power and privilege she'd only ever glimpsed through the p

's worried gaze. "Mum... I think I