Connor was still reading, his face twisted into an infuriated frown.
Mr. Wainwright folded his hands upon a file that contained the original copies of the letters, sent over a span of eighteen years. “It shows, without a doubt,” he said, “that Mr. Clark possessed genuine feelings of love for Fiona’s mother. This will make it very difficult to overturn the will.”
Connor finally finished reading the last letter and tossed it onto the table. “How do we know these are even real?”
“It’s Dad’s handwriting,” Sloane said.
He pointed at Fiona. “There’s a lot of money at stake here. She could have forged it.”
Mr. Wainwright held up a hand. “I spoke to Francesco Bergamaschi, who confirmed that the letters were genuine. He also confirmed Mr. Clark’s final wishes.”
“Who the hell is Francesco Berg . . . whatever his name is?” Connor asked.
“He was your father’s driver and personal assistant for many years,” Mr. Wainwright replied.
Teardrops pooled on Sloane’s eyelashes. “I remember him. He used to drive us into town for ice cream when we were little. Remember?”
“That guy?” Connor replied. “He must be senile by now. You trust what he has to say?”
“We believe the letters speak for themselves,” Mr. Wainwright informed Connor, with a note of impatience. “The will stands.”
A tear spilled from Sloane’s eye. She quickly wiped it away, but Connor noticed and turned to Fiona. “Do you see that? That’s the kind of father he was. A vindictive bastard to the very end, cutting his own kids out of his will just to spite us. Look what this is doing to her.”
Sloane couldn’t allow Connor to speak for her, because he didn’t understand how she felt, nor did he have the slightest appreciation for the things she loved—her children, this winery, the London house. He was her brother, and she would always love him, but deep down, they had nothing in common. She had to be honest.
“That’s not why I’m crying,” she said shakily.
“What’s the problem, then?” Connor asked irritably.
She gestured toward her father’s final letter to Lillian Bell. “I didn’t think that kind of love was possible. I’ve certainly never been loved like that.”
Connor leaned back in his chair and shook his head at her. “Great, sis. Well done.”
“And he wasn’t vindictive,” she added. “Even if he was, it’s our own fault for making him that way. Didn’t you read what he said in that letter? We were terrible children. We believed all the lies Mom told us about him. We believed it because we were selfish, and we didn’t want to miss out on our friends’ parties in LA. We never gave him the benefit of the doubt. If we had come to visit him once in a while, we might have seen that he wasn’t the two-timing womanizer that Mom made him out to be. Maybe he would have confided in us about all this. Maybe he would have been happier.” She buried her forehead in a hand. “I can’t believe he’s gone and I never knew him. I’m not surprised he did what he did. As far as I’m concerned, what we got in the will is more than we deserved.”
Connor shoved his chair back and stood. “I don’t care what these letters say. I still think she did something to make him rewrite it, because she was no better than us. Why did she deserve it more than we did?”
“Because she was a good daughter!” Sloane replied heatedly. “She’s been at her father’s side her entire life. She was devoted to him, and Dad knew it! What did we ever sacrifice for anything?”
Connor stood for a moment, glaring at her. “You’re going to have to buy me out of that house in London, Sloane, because I never want to set foot in it again.” He headed for the door.
Sloane watched him go and realized that she was shaking all over. With trembling hands, she wiped the tears from her cheeks, then noticed suddenly that everyone at the table was staring at her in silence.
“Thank you,” Fiona said.
Mr. Wainwright cleared his throat and pulled another file from under the one that contained the letters. “Now that that’s out of the way, we’d like to begin the process of transferring the deed for the winery and all the corporate holdings over to you, Ms. Bell. And Maria, we also have the deed for your villa here. There’s a fair bit of paperwork. Do you both have time to get through this today?”
Fiona and Maria exchanged a look.
“I do,” Fiona replied.