Blake seemed amused, but I could see something much darker than amusement glinting in his eyes. “And if you lose?”
I had a trump card, but I couldn’t play it—not yet. Not if I wanted even a sliver of a chance that I’d walk away today with the kind of win I needed.
“A favor,” I said, my heart brutalizing my rib cage. “Very soon, I’ll have control of the Hawthorne fortune. Billions. A favor from someone in my position has to be worth something.”
Vincent Blake didn’t seem overly tempted by my offer. Of course he didn’t, because he already had a plan to come for Tobias Hawthorne’s fortune on his own.
After a moment, however, amusement won out. “A game seems fitting, but I’m not going to play you, little girl. I will, however, let her play you.” He jerked his head toward Eve, then tilted his head to the side, considering. “And Toby.”
“Toby?” I croaked. I hated the way I sounded—the way I felt. I couldn’t let my emotions take control. I had to think. I had to modify my plan—again.
“My grandson has asked about you,” Blake told me. “You could say I have a knack for recognizing pressure points.”
Vincent Blake had kidnapped Toby to get at me, to win Eve entrance to Hawthorne House. I realized, in that moment, that Blake had also doubtlessly leveraged me against Toby.
“Eve,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of an order that no living person would dare disobey, “why don’t you fetch your father?”
CHAPTER 79
Toby’s bruises were healing, and he needed to shave. Those were my first two thoughts, followed immediately by a dozen others about him and my mom and the last time I’d seen him, each thought accompanied by a wave of emotion that threatened to take me down.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Toby kept a handle on whatever emotions he was feeling, but the intensity in his eyes told me he was holding on to that composure by a thread.
“I know,” I replied, and I hoped my tone made him realize that I wasn’t just saying I knew I shouldn’t be here. I know who Blake is. I know what he’s capable of. I know what I’m doing.
For this to work, Toby didn’t have to trust me, but I did need him to stay out of my way.
“You’re going to play a game,” Vincent Blake told Toby. “All three of you—a tournament of sorts, consisting of three matches.” Blake lifted a single finger and gestured from Toby to Eve. “My grandson and his daughter.” A second finger came up. “My grandson and the girl who is not his daughter.”
Toby and me. Ouch.
“And…” Blake raised a third and final finger. “Avery and Eve against each other.” The man gave us a few seconds to process that, then continued. “As for incentive… well, these things must have stakes.”
Something about the way he said stakes sent a shiver down my spine.
“Win both of your matches and you can go,” Blake told Toby. “Disappear however you like. You’ll never hear from me again, and I’ll allow the world to continue to believe that you are dead. Lose one of your matches and you’re still free to go, but not as a dead man. You’ll confirm for the world that Toby Hawthorne is alive and never go off the grid again.”
Toby didn’t blanch. I wasn’t sure if Blake had expected him to.
“Lose both of your matches,” the older man continued with a tilt to his lips that I did not trust, “and you won’t be coming back to life as Toby Hawthorne. You’ll agree to stay here of your own free will as Toby Blake.”
“No!” I objected. “Toby, you—”
Toby cut me off with the slightest shift in his expression—a warning. “What are their terms?” he asked his grandfather.
Blake drank in Toby’s response, pleased, and then turned to Eve. “Win one of your matches,” he told her, “and you can have this.” He brandished a Blake family seal at Eve. “Lose both, and you’ll be at the service of whoever I give it to in your stead.” There was something deeply disconcerting about the way he said service. “Win both of your matches,” Blake finished silkily, “and I’ll give you all five.”
All five seals. An electric current swept through the premises. Isaiah had said that anyone holding a seal when Vincent Blake died was entitled to one-fifth of his fortune, and that meant Blake had just promised Eve that if she could beat Toby and me, he’d give her everything.
All the power. All the money. All of it.
“And as for you, Tobias Hawthorne’s very risky gamble…” Vincent Blake smiled. “Lose both, and I’ll take that favor you offered—a blank check, if you will, to be cashed at a time of my choosing.”
Toby caught my gaze. No. He didn’t make the objection out loud. After a moment, I looked away. There wasn’t a warning he could issue that would be news to me. Owing Vincent Blake a favor was a very bad idea.
“Win at least one game,” Blake continued, “and I’ll release Grayson Hawthorne to you, with a guarantee that I won’t make a guest of anyone under your protection again.”
Guest was one way of phrasing it—but as far as incentives went, it was enticing. Too enticing. If he’s willing to keep his hands off my loved ones, he must have other buttons to push. Other forms of leverage.
Another plan to take everything from me.
“Win both games,” Blake promised, “and I’ll also swear secrecy on the matter of Sheffield Grayson.”
Toby flinched. Clearly, he hadn’t known about that bit of leverage his biological grandfather had been holding in reserve.
“Are these terms acceptable to you?” Blake asked Toby and only Toby, like Eve and I were foregone conclusions.
Toby gritted his teeth. “Yes.”
“Yes,” Eve said, alive in a way that made all other versions of her seem faded and incomplete.
And as for me…
Blake will honor his word. If I won both matches, the truth about Grayson’s father would stay buried. The people I loved would be safe. Blake would still be coming for me. He’d find a way of destroying me and all I held dear, but he’d be limited in how he could do that.
“I agree to your terms,” I said, even though he’d never given me the option to do anything else.
Blake turned to the glittering, five-hundred-thousand-dollar chess set I’d gifted him. “Well then. Shall we begin?”
CHAPTER 80
Toby and Eve went first. I’d played against Toby often enough to know that he could have ended it within the first twelve moves if he’d wanted to.
He let her win.
Blake must have concluded the same thing because once the board had been reset for my match against Toby, the older man picked up his bowie knife. “Throw this game, too,” he told Toby contemplatively, “and I’ll ask Eve to give me her arm and use this to open a vein.”
If Eve was disturbed by the implication that her great-grandfather would slice her open, she didn’t show it. Instead, she held tight to the seal she’d been given and kept her eyes on the board.
I took my position and met Toby’s eyes. It had been more than a year since we’d played, but the second I moved my first pawn, it was like no time had passed at all. Harry and I were right back in the park.