Trent didn’t like getting registered mail. It usually meant bad news. The last two registered letters had contained speeding tickets. Both times his slightly excessive speed had been justified, but when he weighed up the time involved with disputing the fine and the loss of hourly income to do so, he decided it made more financial sense to just pay up and try to forget about it.
With reluctance, he ran his silver letter opener along the envelope and tipped the contents onto the table. He only needed a glance to realise it wasn’t a speeding fine. A pair of plane tickets caught his attention first. One was in his name and one in Max’s. They were for flights from Brisbane to London. First class. The covering letter was from a law firm, Chevalier and Lefevre. And right from the first sentence Trent was curious.
Prepaid first-class plane tickets were interesting enough, but Chevalier and Lefevre were even more compelling with their brief letter. Apparently he and Max were required in London to attend a highly secret meeting at the firm’s office in two weeks’ time. Trent rang his brother but the ensuing conversation did not go the way Trent intended. While he wanted to learn more from Chevalier and Lefevre prior to flying halfway around the world, Max was childishly excited about the first-class flights.
And so it was that two weeks later, Trent found himself sitting beside his overexcited brother in the oversized leather chairs at Chevalier and Lefevre’s waiting room, 16,500 kilometres away from Brisbane.
The attractive woman at reception came out from behind the antique mahogany desk and directed them to the boardroom at the end of the hall. “Mr Chevalier will see you now.”
At the door they were greeted by Granville Chevalier. Trent knew his name because he’d studied the company profile while he’d been made to wait an unacceptable seven minutes in the waiting room.
They entered the glass-panelled boardroom and were greeted by the other senior partner, Mr Rupert Lefevre.
“Would you like something to drink, gentlemen?” offered Chevalier. “Coffee, tea?”
“No, thank you.” Trent just wanted to get to the point.
“Do you have Coke?” Clearly Max didn’t have the same agenda.
“Please take a seat, gentlemen.” Chevalier clicked a button on a black box on the desk and spoke into it. “Elizabeth, can you bring in a Coca Cola for Mr Max Hinds, please?”
The immense boardroom table could accommodate sixteen people. Trent felt insignificant as he and Max chose seats that afforded them a magnificent view over the London Eye.
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming today,” said Chevalier.
“We didn’t want to waste first-class tickets,” Max said.
Right now Trent wished he’d reminded Max to let him do the talking. He had made the mistake of assuming Max would know the protocol. He secretly admonished himself. He rarely made mistakes.
“Do you have any idea why we brought you here today?” Chevalier flicked his eyes from one brother to the other.
“How about you tell us?” Max at least got that question right.
Chevalier cleared his throat and bounced paperwork in front of him before he began. “Do you know of a woman named Tiffany Delacroix?”
Trent’s heart leapt to his throat. Had they linked Tiffany to their father? Were they in trouble? The thought made him instantly ill. Now he wished he’d asked more questions before they boarded the plane in Brisbane. Damn Max and his naive eagerness.
Max nodded, and reluctantly Trent did too.
“Did you know she was the sole beneficiary of her husband’s will?”
Trent frowned, curious about why the lawyers would be sharing information that would be considered highly sensitive. “How or why would we know that?” he finally said.
“Yes, well I guess you wouldn’t.” Chevalier chuckled to himself.
“Why are you telling us about Tiffany Delacroix?” Trent had to ask, before his insides burst from worry. “What has she got to do with us?”
“Did you know Tiffany had a daughter?”
“Yes, I did.” Trent had seen the girl on the news several times.
“Ironically it was your father’s recent death that made it easy for us to find you.” Lefevre said it like it was the most wonderful of coincidences.
Trent was beginning to dislike these men. “Umm…why did you need to find us?”
Chevalier’s smile bordered on creepy. “The father of Tiffany Delacroix’s daughter is your father. Murray Hinds.”
Trent and Max gasped in unison.
“Brace yourselves for another shock, gentlemen.” Now both Chevalier and Lefevre were grinning. “Because when Tiffany Delacroix died, your half-sister inherited thirteen billion dollars.”