Evelyn spat out her drink, going into a momentary loss for words at her name.
A rush of shocked and angry sounds from the surrounding people followed, and she glanced around. Everyone had their gaze on her, confused, unbelieving, angry, and amused.
She took her glasses off. Why were they all gaping at her like that?
Slowly and cautiously, she moved over to approach Geralt, asking, "A-are you sure…you didn't read that wrong, Mr. Geralt?"
"I'm as surprised as every one else," Geralt responded. "But none of this is a mistake. His signature is right here."
What the...
She looked over to Preston. He was turning red, losing it.
"What is the meaning of this?" Preston questioned, brown eyes sharp with anger. "Is this some sick joke?"
Mr. Geralt rose from his seat. "Sir Preston, please calm down—"
"Why would my father leave TDG to her?"
"That I don't know. But it is his wish, as I've read."
"Bullshit!" He was like an angry bull, eyes shooting over to Evelyn. "Her? Are you kidding me? Father would never do that!"
"Impossible," Lyra commented.
Brandon balled his hands into fists. "It makes no sense. There is no way he would skip the three of us just to give TDG to her. W-why would he ever do that?"
Evelyn felt connered. Even the witnesses had their eyes on her, agreeing with the three. And honestly, it made no sense to her as well.
Their father had treated her the worst, never even liked her much. And it'd been the reason she'd left the country a year ago, never seeing him until his funeral.
Why would he give TDG to her?
"Listen here, I have no idea what is going on as well." She sighed. "I didn't come here thinking even for a second that—"
"You made him write this will, didn't you?" Preston's sudden accusation cut her off.
He stormed over to her.
"Nobody leaves this house until I say so." His voice was oozing with threat. "No one steps out, not until I am given an explanation!"
Evelyn frowned, taking steps back away from him.
"Have you lost your mind? Preston, I couldn't have made him write this will. How would that even be possible? I haven't been home in a year, not until his funeral."
"Then why is your name in this will? You're the outcast in this family!" Preston looked murderous.
"What do you want me to say?" she asked. "I haven't seen Dad in a year, we barely even spoke. Am I some magician?"
He began pacing the room back and forth, restless.
"She's not really going to have the corporation…is she?" Lyra asked, glaring at her.
Brandon's eyes darkened. "Why would she ever? That can't be allowed! She's not worthy of it, and that Will has to be a mistake!"
Evelyn balled her fists. "I don't even want the company anyway. Preston can have it if he—"
"That won't be possible," Mr. Geralt interrupted.
Everyone looked at him.
"Meaning?" Preston questioned.
Geralt's lips pressed into a line.
"You cannot sell TDG."
"Why?" Evelyn asked. "You said it's my corporation now. Shouldn't I be able to sell it to Preston if I wanted?"
"Normally, you should be able to, but not in your father's case," Geralt said. "Your father arranged legal documents, in other words, consequences if you dare give the company away. You can say he knew you would do this."
Evelyn squinted. "What…?"
"This is a corporation. So, yes, were you to sell the company, you won't be receiving a dime in return, and you can get sued by the shareholders. Meaning this corporation can only ever be transferred to another after your death, just like now."
The mention of death made her take a step back. Preston had caught her eyes, and so did Brandon, whose expression was unreadable.
Why would her father set her up like this?
"There is one more thing left to be said." Geralt grabbed another document from the desk. "In return for this inheritance, you are going to have to marry someone important to the corporation."
She kept her precious boba tea aside. "Say what again?"
"Your father has two signatures here. His, and another belonging to someone—the man he'd decided you were going to marry. It is a must and you have no choice."
Things were starting to get a bit out of hand now.
Evelyn cackled in confusion. "Wait, this is—"
"Who is it?" Lyra questioned.
Geralt parted his lips. "Zayne Mancini."
The door pushed open suddenly. Geralt halted speaking, glancing towards the door with the rest.
A smile spread across his wrinkly lips.
"Hello, Mr. Mancini."