I, Marcus Malcom McCoy, being of sound mind, yadda, yadda, yadda, do hereby acknowledge as my biological progeny the first born to Helen Metzger, Ann Branigan, Bonnie
Larson and Nadine Anders et al, who have been paid a million dollars each for their silence.
Upon my death and subsequent reading of this addendum to my last will and testament, they shall inherit equal portions of my estate and, excepting Helen's child, Alexander, who already has the privilege, immediately take their rightful places in the family and family business, whatever it may be at that time.
Marcus M. McCoy
Tuning out the chatter from the party in full swing on the other side of the study's locked doors, Alexander McCoy slumped back in the big desk chair. He stared at the scrawled signature at the bottom of the handwritten page, tugging loose his black tuxedo's traditional bow tie. If only he could tune out the burn of betrayal as easily.
For what seemed to be the hundre
I, Marcus Malcom McCoy, being of sound mind, yadda, yadda, yadda, do hereby acknowledge as my biological progeny the first born to Helen Metzger, Ann Branigan, Bonnie
Larson and Nadine Anders et al, who have been paid a million dollars each for their silence.
Upon my death and subsequent reading of this addendum to my last will and testament, they shall inherit equal portions of my estate and, excepting Helen's child, Alexander, who already has the privilege, immediately take their rightful places in the family and family business, whatever it may be at that time.
Marcus M. McCoy
Tuning out the chatter from the party in full swing on the other side of the study's locked doors, Alexander McCoy slumped back in the big desk chair. He stared at the scrawled signature at the bottom of the handwritten page, tugging loose his black tuxedo's traditional bow tie. If only he could tune out the burn of betrayal as easily.
For what seemed to be the hundredth time, he had to admit to himself that he was definitely looking at the signature of the man he'd spent his life believing to be his brother. The brother he'd initially admired, then set out to be as different from as possible. And only Marcus would have had the nerve to belittle legalities by actually writing yadda, yadda, yadda, especially on something as important as an addendum to his last will and testament.
Even if Alex could harbor any doubts, he would have a hard time dismissing the word of David Weidman. The McCoys'longtime family lawyer had witnessed Marcus write the addendum — though David claimed not to have read the document before seal-ing it into the heavy cream envelope that bore his signature and noting the existence of the unorthodox addendum in the actual will.
The will had been read nearly a month ago, four days after Marcus was killed on June 8, while flyfishing in Alaska, by a grizzly bear that hadn't appreciated the competition. Before the reading, Alex had grieved for the relationship he'd hoped to one day develop with his much older brother. Now…
Of all the ways Alex's jet-setting, "client-relations" guru brother — father — could have met an untimely end, this suddenly seemed the most apropos. Maybe it was the price Marcus had had to pay for being so cavalier with the truth. A truth that had changed everything.
Alexander's whole life had been a lie.
The well-respected McCoy family, one of the richest in the nation, had a dirty little secret. And Alex's actual parentage was the worst part of it.
The truth beat in his head in cadence with the music coming from the small parlor off the foyer of his family's mansion. His brother was his father, and the man he'd believed to be his father was his grandfather.
My God.
Alex swiped a hand over his eyes. He'd tried his damnedest to push the reality from his mind these past weeks, focusing on the challenge of keeping the revelations in Marcus's will from blowing up into a monster PR disaster. But for whatever reason, tonight he'd snapped. While hundreds of people, including his three new half brothers, celebrated his grandfather's seventy-fifth birthday in true Joseph McCoy style, all Alex could do was stare at the document that had turned his life upside down.
Try as he may, he could not deny that the shattering words had been penned by Marcus's own hand. The same hand that had so often waved off a younger brother's pleas for a scrap of attention. A younger brother who in reality was a son.
With nearly a twenty-year difference in their ages, it had made sense at the time that Marcus wouldn't have much interest inAlex. Knowing what he did now, he damn near doubled over from the ache in his chest.
And Helen! She'd doted on him more like a mother than the family's longtime housekeeper. Because she was his mother.
Alex shoved out of the chair, swallowing bile. He paced to the wall of books on one side of the room, the heels of his gleaming black dress shoes sharp on the hardwood. He then crossed to the wall of windows on the opposite side, the heavy, burgundy velvet curtains still closed after being drawn this afternoon to protect the books and mahogany furnishings from the early-July sun.
Helen had tried to explain right after the reading of the will why she had agreed to Joseph and Elise's plan. He'd been in no mood to hear any excuses. So she had wisely given him his space when it became clear he needed time to process what was happening to him. Now he wasn't so sure he was capable of processing it, regardless of time.
At least Elise didn't have to face the turmoil of being outed as his grandmother instead of being known as a woman who'd been blessed with the late gift of another child, as she'd always claimed. This was the only good thing to come out of her passing from cancer ten years earlier.
Alex couldn't help wondering how much of her love had actually been guilt.
Finally, there was Joseph McCoy, the man who had built a billion-dollar retail empire off the motto Don't Trust It If It's Not From The Real McCoy. Joseph had beamed with pride when Alex had set out from an early age to give his "father" a son he could be proud of. A son who lived his life with the sort of integrity and drive that would take the family and corporation to even greater heights. A true teammate to Joseph.
So far Alex had succeeded.
Something Marcus had never managed to do.
Was that why Marcus had decided to reach from the grave and destroyAlex's world? There had never been any sign of "sibling" rivalry from Marcus. Still, who could say what had been going on inside his head.
Alex moved to the fireplace and the painted portrait of Joseph, Elise and Marcus that hung above it, focusing on the ten-year-old boy with the same black hair and dark blue eyes that Alex possessed. Sure, Marcus had done the right thing in acknowledging his other children. But why claim his first child? Alex fisted his hands and slammed them down on the mantel. He was already a McCoy!
Continues...
Excerpted from The Rich Boy by Leah Vale Copyright © 2005 by Leah Vale. Excerpted by permission.
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