"Why, Rowan? Do you want to know how much of my successors' inheritance will be yours?" George chuckled as he watched the stoic man outside the cell. Rowan was supposed to be angry and cold, but there he was—visiting the uncle and speaking in the same tone he always had.
"I have an inheritance from you? Why is that?"
"Why not? I like you the most among all those brats in the Bradshaw family. If I don't give anything to you, which of them would be worthy?" George laughed as if he was talking to someone who didn't wish to kill him later. "None of them respected me the way you did, catered to me the way you did, or even took care of me the way you…"
Rowan scoffed, interrupting George. The uncle didn't like that reaction, however. Then again, Rowan just answered George's slight glare with a serious gaze. "Are you sure it's only because I was good to you? Or is it because of my mom… Dad?"
