The Inheritance Games (The Inheritance Games, #1)

by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

“I know you grew up around these people and everything,” Libby told Alisa, trying to be diplomatic, “but they are totally, one hundred percent going to go all Lizzie Borden on my sister.” “Really would prefer not to be ax-murdered,” I emphasized. “Risk assessment: low,” Oren rumbled. “At least insofar as axes are concerned.”

“Besides,” Alisa added, “in the state of Texas, if an heir dies while a will is in probate, the inheritance doesn’t revert to the original estate—it becomes part of the heir’s estate.”

Dearest Avery, I’m sorry. —T. T. H.

I flipped through the keys, inspecting the designs on the handles. An apple. A snake. A pattern of swirls reminiscent of water. There were keys for each letter of the alphabet, in fancy, old-fashioned script. There were keys with numbers and keys with shapes, one with a mermaid and four different keys featuring eyes.

“Sometimes,” Jameson Hawthorne said, sounding strangely contemplative, “things that appear very different on the surface are actually exactly the same at their core.”

He. Tobias Hawthorne. Even dead, he was larger than life.

“You’re protective,” Nash commented, “and you seem like you’d fight dirty, and if there’s one thing I respect, it’s those particular traits in combination.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Ms. Grambs,” Grayson said, silver eyes sharp. “She’s clearly capable of taking care of herself.” Translation: I’m a soulless, gold-digging con artist, and he sees straight through me.

“There’s a chance that Hawthorne House is just a tiny bit hard to navigate. Imagine, if you will, that a labyrinth had a baby with Where’s Waldo?, only Waldo is your rooms.”

“Everything’s a game, Avery Grambs. The only thing we get to decide in this life is if we play to win.”

Jameson, Better the devil you know than the one you don’t—or is it? Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. All that glitters is not gold. Nothing is certain but death and taxes. There but for the grace of God go I. Don’t judge. —Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne

I wanted to argue that point, but instead, my mind cycled back to Tobias Hawthorne’s letter to Jameson, his words echoing in my mind. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

“And the girl from the wrong side of the tracks can become…” A princess. A riddle. An heiress. A game. Jameson smiled. If this was a test, I’d passed. “On the surface,” he told me, “it appears that the letter outlines what we already know: My grandfather died and left everything to the devil he didn’t know, thereby reversing the fortune of many. Why? Because power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

“I hate to puzzle and run, Mystery Girl.…” Jameson’s hand was already on the door handle as the SUV pulled to a stop. “But the last thing you need on your first day at this school is for anyone to see you getting cozy with me.”

The last girl who spent hour after hour in that house? She died.

Does “Don’t judge a book by its cover” mean anything to you? I asked Jameson. His reply was immediate. Very good, Heiress. Then, a moment later: It sure as hell does.

Tobias Hawthorne had given himself a middle name at the same time he’d disinherited his family. Tattersall. Tatters, all. Given everything that Jameson and Xander had told me about their grandfather, that seemed like a message. Leaving the money to me—and before me, to charity—wasn’t the point.

“You might think you’re playing the game, darlin’, but that’s not how Jamie sees it.” Nash’s voice was gentle enough, but for the words. “We aren’t normal. This place isn’t normal, and you’re not a player, kid. You’re the glass ballerina—or the knife.”

“I’ll give you a hint,” my mom wheedles. “For your birthday.” She pulls the covers back and flops down beside me on my pillow. Her smile is contagious. I finally break and smile back. “Fine. Give me a hint.” “I have a secret… about the day you were born.”

“What did he say, when he saw you?” When he saw my hair. I swallowed. “He told me that he broke up with Emily the night she died.” Silence. I turned back to look at Grayson. His eyes were closed, every muscle in his body taut. “Did Jameson tell you that I killed her?”