WICKED RULE (Heartless Kingdom #1)

Chapter 1

My grandfather is dead.

Four words I’d said to myself over and over, yet the response inside me was the same each time. There was no anguish in my emotions and little sadness in general. It was more of a relief than anything.

He was never a loving man, and I respected him, but I never loved him. Hard and harsh in every way, he’d made my life hell.

He shaped me into the man I’d become.

“Are you coming?” my brother, Hamilton, asked as I stood outside the dining room.

“I’d rather not.” Nothing good was going to come from going in there.

“It’s the reading of his will, and we all have to be present. Please don’t torture me today by drawing it out.”

I sighed before following him into the overcrowded dining room. Everyone was cloaked in black, but few mourned him. The greedy ones just wanted to know what he left them, while I was fairly certain I didn’t want to hear what the old man’s last jab at me would be.

All twenty of the table’s chairs were taken. At the head of the table sat my father, and at the other head was the family lawyer, Alexander Corwin, with what I assumed were others from his firm to assist.

I stood against the wall next to Hamilton, with my cousin, Will, on my other side. The walls were lined with de Loughreys eagerly awaiting their take, and the gallery balcony that overlooked from the second floor was also stuffed with bodies.

“Is everyone here?” Alexander asked as he glanced around the room.

By the thickness of the legal binder in front of him, this was going to take forever, especially with a room of over seventy people.

“We are here today for the reading of the last will and testament of Atticus Charles de Loughrey.”

To his brothers, my great uncles, he left money and personal items.

Unsurprisingly, money, stocks, and property, as well as a few personal items, were granted to his children—my father, Uncle Henry, Aunt Katherine, and Uncle Hugh.

Then came my turn as I was the oldest of my generation.

“To my grandson, Atticus William de Loughrey, I leave Stronghold.” Alexander paused and looked around. “This residence,” he added for clarification before continuing, “The position as the newest head of the de Loughrey family. He will also take over the position of CEO of de Loughrey Corporation, and with that he will inherit all my shares in the de Loughrey Corporation on his fortieth birthday.”

My eyes narrowed. Why would he make me the largest shareholder?

I wasn’t the only one wondering as multiple sets of eyes flickered to me. There was a catch. I just knew it.

I already knew of the impending promotion to de Loughrey family leader, patriarch of all, and that was the only non-surprise. With my father retiring, albeit slowly, the crown fell to me. There was an almost palpable shift in the air—a shift of respect and compliance.

It was the day I would be crowned.

“I apologize, Atticus. I realize you are already the CEO. This will is two years old.”

“It’s fine, Alexander.”

“There’s more.”

Of course there is.

“In order to receive his shares, Stronghold, and to retain his position as CEO and head, there are two conditions which must be met. Atticus Charles has put it all into a trust with springing interest, meaning Atticus William will only gain rights to the property and shares upon fulfillment of the terms. The terms are henceforth set: If Atticus is not married upon my death, he has one year to be married or forfeit all. He also must produce an heir before his fortieth birthday. Both conditions must be met by the dates specified or he will not receive anything. If he fails to meet the requirements, the items stated will be handed to my second grandson, Rhys Geoffrey de Loughrey, whereby the same requirements will be enacted. And so on, through each male heir, until the conditions are met.”

Fuck.

Fuck, f**k, f**k.

The old man got his last dig in hard.

“Comply, or lose everything I’ve primed you for.” I could even hear the words in his voice, feel his steely gaze pinned on me.

He never liked that out of more than a dozen grandchildren, none of us were married except Elizabeth. However, he no longer considered her a de Loughrey as she was not a man and no longer held our family name. Always underestimating Elizabeth and women in general.

By the time my father had reached my age, he had multiple children already. The same for my uncles and aunt. Therefore, my grandfather believed we all should have children.

Well played, Grandfather.

I was also left with a few million dollars and some artwork. Much more money and property was given out, divided up among my siblings and cousins, and a trust was set up for eleven de Loughrey homes around the globe. It was only the tip of the iceberg, as the family owned much more than that. They were the oldest of the properties, which was why it was curious he left me Stronghold. It had been in our family since my great-great-grandfather. The original show of de Loughrey wealth to rival Vanderbilt’s riches. In my eyes, it should have been the crowning property of the trust.

With every few minutes of speaking, Alexander had to take a sip of water, and by the end of hour two, his voice had become hoarse. When he finished, an elaborate symphony of paperwork was danced across the room by his assistants.

With a swipe of the pen, I accepted everything including my role, my status, and the stipulations he enacted.

I was the new ruler.

King of the de Loughreys.

“He got the final word, as usual,” Hamilton said beside me as the assistant handed me my copy.

There was still more paperwork to take care of, but that would wait for another time.

“It shouldn’t shock me, but I find I am surprised.”

When Alexander stood, the room began to disperse, some heading home, some chatting as they awaited dinner.

As family passed I received nods and acknowledgments, as well as handshakes. However, not everyone was happy about the new power structure or distribution of my grandfather’s excessive wealth.

“This isn’t fair. Atticus got so much,” Daniel said, making me pause.

I turned to him. “He was your great uncle. Why would he leave you more than his firstborn grandson and successor?”

He startled, not realizing I was right there. Daniel, who at twenty-five, had little pressure on him and epitomized the stereotype of families like ours by acting like a spoiled brat.

“I—”

I leaned forward, the movement cutting him off. “Isn’t there a stipulation in your trust that you must maintain a job?”

“Y-yes.”

Weak. So weak it made me burn with rage.

I leaned in closer to make sure he could see the displeasure in my expression and the flames behind my eyes. “Then be happy you were even here. Shut up and get out before I fire you.”

His eyes widened. Pathetic. Where did this weak blood come from?

“You can’t fire me.”

I quirked a brow at him. Was he talking back? A low chuckle left me, and I snarled at him, “Try me.”

I watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as the color drained from his face. He bowed his head in submission. “I’m sorry, Atticus.”

Every so often, one of the spoiled ones thought they were tough. Thought they were more than they were. Examples were made to help keep all the egos in check, and my rule had just found its first target.

Start hard to keep the insubordination down. What was asked of them all was trivial. Behave. Yet it amazed me how often someone stepped out of line.

Daniel scurried away with Petra and Phillip, thankfully heading toward the front door.

Once gone from my sight, I pulled out my phone and in one short message to cut Daniel’s accounts off. The move was temporary, but his hysteria when he found he had no money would straighten out his attitude.

“Atticus,” my father called.

I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and looked up. The smile on his lips coupled with the manic energy emanating from his gaze had me grinding my teeth. It hadn’t been five minutes, and he was already up to something.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a perfect wife for you,” he said as he stopped in front of me.

“Excuse me?”

“An arranged marriage. There is a girl—”

“Stop,” I said, interrupting him. “Say nothing more.” How many times had we had the same argument over the last decade?

His gaze hardened. “Don’t be difficult, Atticus. A marriage to an influential family is a perfect solution.”

“I refuse.”

“Refuse?” He scoffed. “You’re not really in the position to decline.”

“I am the patriarch now. Not you,” I ground out.

“How can you be a patriarch when you don’t even have any children,” he sneered.

“Hear me well, Father, because I will not repeat myself,” I raised my voice so that all around would hear. “I am your king. It matters not that you are my father. I rule this family, not you. If Grandfather had died ten years ago, the responsibility would have fallen to you, but you’re already entering retirement and I run the company.”

“I am your father, and I will do what is necessary for you to succeed. You will marry a woman of my choosing.”

“I will never agree to an arranged marriage, so remove that thought from your mind,” I boomed out, my anger no longer tethered by a thread.

“You will come to my side of thinking.”

“Stubborn old man. You need to come to my side or I will crush you.”

“You’re not strong enough, son.”

“I wouldn’t challenge me.”

“You have no power over me.” He grinned.

There was little that I could hold over him and he knew it. Charles de Loughrey was nearly untouchable and would be a constant thorn in my side.

“Your access to the de Loughrey tower has been revoked for the next week.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

It wasn’t much, but my ammunition was minimal at this time. I would need to become more cunning when facing him.

“For each word you say, I will add another week. You’re now at two. Your little affair with one of your assistants? As of today, she is removed.”

His face was red with rage, but he somehow managed to hold himself back. My lips pulled up into a smirk.

“Bow your head before I remove your maid.”

His eyes widened farther.

“Oh, yes, I know about that one as well. You can’t hide your indiscretions from me, Father.”

His muscles were coiled right, but he managed a slight bow of his head.

“I’m glad we have reached an understanding. Now, refrain from testing me again.”

I pushed past him and retrieved a drink from the bar before making my way out to the patio. I relaxed into one of the plush chairs as I swirled the amber liquid of my glass of Bowmore 1957 whiskey while overlooking the lake. The sun gleamed across the water, giving off a calming effect in addition to the drink in my hand.

It had already begun, and that outburst was only the beginning. I could feel their eyes boring into the back of my head, hear the chattering of whispers flowing in the breeze. The weight of them settled on my shoulders, oppressive as it coiled around my chest.

The expression of my status would keep many of them in line, but during the beginning, there were going to be assholes testing me. I would make examples of them, and punishments began to form in my mind for the spoiled assholes.

The Bowmore did little to settle the stress that boiled inside. Stress that I wouldn’t dare show anyone. It would be seen as weakness, an avenue of exploitation.

The new head of the family. Grandfather had lived to a ripe old age, passing at the time Father began to step back in the company. That was the only thing his stipulations didn’t touch. No matter what, I was the new ruler of hundreds of de Loughreys.

The king.

My word would be the last word and law.

It was a role my grandfather and my father had shared over the last two decades, but now it was all mine.

I may not have been as heavy-handed as my father, but I would still put each and every one of them in their place with no remorse. Being the head of the family was no easy task, and while my father still held some of the familial responsibility, the bulk rested on my shoulders.

The sun sparkled across the water, turning the surface into a beautiful golden orange when a hand landed on my shoulder. The dainty yet calloused fingers told me all I needed to know.

She said nothing, though I knew she had much on her mind. After the incident, my little sister had become withdrawn. The spotlight of shame was one she vowed never to enter again. It was a time in which we’d grown closer, something our nine-year age gap had not allowed before.

Of all my siblings, Penelope was the most intuitive, and the simple weight of her hand conveyed more than anyone else could comprehend.

“They’re settling for dinner,” she said.

I let out a sigh as I stood, taking one last look at the lake before following her inside. The table had been extended to allow room for everyone who remained and was exquisitely set. Gold trimmed china and crystal sparkled in the richly appointed table.

All eyes fell to me as they stood, waiting, and it pleased me that none were taking that moment to test me.

The heaviness that lay upon my shoulders had my spine straightening to carry the load of all in the room as I took my place at the head of the table. Once I was seated, my father followed suit before the scooting of chairs filled the silence.

While not Shakespeare’s exact words, the idiom was most apt:

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.