Tristan’s P.O.V

I blinked, thrown off by the sharpness of Mr. Harrison’s question, the way it sliced through the air like a blade. I shifted slightly in my seat, confused, unsure if I had misheard him.

“Why are you asking me that?” I asked, voice quieter than I’d intended. “I mean… Gabriella’s children—your grandchildren—they’ll inherit everything…the Harrison name and…everything. They’ll be fine. We can all live comfortably.”

The words slipped ...