“That is true,” an unknown mechanical voice says. Phone, or a Zoom call. “But even if we demonstrate that the testator left his assets in the proper amount—”

“Settling would be absolutely mental.”

“Tamryn, they are still threatening to go to the press.”

“They won’t. They’d be making up lies—”

“My brothers don’t care about that,” Conor points out. “They’re cunts, and that’s what cunts do.”

I take a few silent steps backward and slip outside, feeling guilty about eavesdropping, and even guiltier about wanting to know more. Conor once called his family “a nest full of devious little garden gnomes,” and I wonder if—

“That frown better not mean that the Mayageddon’s out.”

Eli is stretched under the shade of a ficus tree, leaning against the trunk, a book open in his lap. Tiny sploots next to him, belly flush against the cool grass, four limbs shooting out at different angles. He lifts his chin when he hears my voice, but is too lazy to come greet me in person.

“The Mayageddon has been temporarily subdued, but she’s always a single game of charades away from nuclear annihilation of her surroundings.”

“As usual, then?”

I grin.

He points at a spot next to him. “Come hang out with me while you’re still out of prison, then.”

“You didn’t tell me Conor’s dad had died,” I say once we’re side by side, shoulders pressed together.

His eyebrow inches up. “You didn’t ask.” He scans my face, shrewd. Those blue eyes and thick lashes that are a carbon copy of mine. “Where does this come from? I thought you were over wanting to use his ‘beautiful rower’s body.’ ”

“I didn’t know you were that horny for your best friend’s shoulders, Eli.”

“I was quoting you. Directly. I assumed you’d forgotten about him—you haven’t narrated to me all the filthy things you’d want to do to him in explicit detail…in a while, now.”

“Should I resume?”

“God, no.”

I snicker. “I heard him and Tamryn talk on the phone just now. It sounded tense.”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “It’s been bad. His siblings aren’t happy about how the splitting of the estate shook out. They’re asking for a part of the business that was Tamryn’s brainchild. Threatening to sue Hark, too, who’s not even in the will, with some bullshit excuse. A mess.”

“Jesus.” I tip back my head. The light filters through the leaves, dapples all over Tiny’s face. “There should be laws about that.”

“About what?”

“Dragging your siblings to court. If you’ve ever shared a rubber ducky during bath time, or fought about who gets the top bunk, you don’t get a judge to solve your problems. Either you tickle-fight it out, or you just let your anger simmer as you plot revenge.”

He laughs. “I seriously doubt that the Little Lords Harkleroys ever shared a wing of their ancestral mansion, let alone a bath. They’re assholes, Maya. I’ll be the first to admit that Hark is fucked up in his own tragic way, but he’s by far the most normal. He walked out of a toxic family, instead of passing time snorting coke with Daddy’s money…Fuck,” Eli says, covering his eyes with his hand.