“Knight, we have a lot to discuss about your father’s estate.” I saw the weariness blanket him.
“Is there a question about the will?” I asked. “A dispute? I thought that was rock solid.”
“No. nothing like that. You are the sole heir with specific requests on behalf of your mother and Seraphina. There are notes to set up a trust to keep the Castilles from receiving anything.”
“Of course,” I muttered. Family had boundaries.
“Is it the off-shore accounts?”
He sighed. “I think I should start with these.” He shoved a file across the desk. I opened the top flap.
“What the hell is this?” I saw the ledgers. The numbers. The property listings. “This is the warehouse district. And the distillery.” I glared at Paul.
“There are more.” He handed me a second file thicker than the first.
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. There are second mortgages. Third mortgages. Losses. On every single fucking property.” I skimmed the notes. “What organization is this? Who does my dad owe this money to?” I gulped the bourbon, trying to decide what was fact or fiction. “Is this a real company?”
Paul crossed his leg over his knee. “It’s very real.”
“Carpe Noctem, LLC?” I closed my eyes as the pain of a knife sliding between my ribs might feel. “It’s not possible. It can’t be.” I shook my head.
“It’s Kennedy Martin. You should know she has notes like this all over town. She owns New Orleans now.”
“Kennedy? The girl I dated?”
“She studied furiously under her father before his passing,” Paul explained. “He taught her his own techniques. They’ve worked for her.”
“What the actual fuck, Paul?”
“She’s fair. Respected. But she’s not backing down or going away. She’s made a mark here. Most of the organizations like doing business with her.”
“Why?” I was fucking dumbfounded.
He shrugged. “A pretty face, but a lethal business mind. It has its draws.”
“What do I do? How to get the properties back? I want the distillery.
”
“You’d have to exceed your projected profits for the next three quarters. She already takes a hefty share of all the revenue.”
I ran my hands through my hair. “How did my father allow this to happen? He never mentioned one damn word to me about this.”
Paul expected the questions. He was the only one who knew. “He tried to expand in shipping to beat out Lucien Martin. He overspent. He didn’t know the market well enough. When things floundered, Kennedy set up a meeting and offered to bail Raphael out.”
I blinked. “And he accepted her offer?”
“He did. And more than once. It’s been going on for three years. She became his bank. It’s all here in the files. She has a hold on almost everything in the Corban Organization.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, refilling my glass.
Paul cleared his throat. “But there is one corner of the business she doesn’t own.”
“What is it?”
“Well, Seraphina and Brandon came to your father a few months ago. One of Seraphina’s friends wanted a financial backer to start her company. Your father offered to fund it a hundred percent. He is the sole investor.”
“Oh shit. Tell me it’s not a bridal shop.”