A Ruthless Game | Grayson Hawthorne x reader

01

     I had a very strange relationship with my mother. We were like best friends. We did everything together. Kind of like Enola Holmes and her mother. But also like Enola Holmes and her mother, we kept a lot of things from each other. The two of us had an unhealthy amount of secrets. She let me in on a few but not all. As it seems, there are some I'll never figure out. Especially since she's gone now. Just like my father.

•  •  •

     "Morning, Harry," I greeted cheerily.

     "Good morning, Princess," a rough voice responded.

     I rolled my eyes playfully. "How many times have I told you, Harry, I'm not your princess."

     "Yeah, yeah whatever"

     Harry was a stubborn, old homeless man who lived in Central Park. It never felt right felt right to ask how he ended up this way or how long he's been living like this, so I never did.

     "Here I brought you something," I said bending down and placing a grease-stained bag next to him. After every late night shift I had at the diner, I would bring him whatever was left over to eat.

     "How many times have I told you not to do that," he growled.

     "How many times have I told you I don't care," I shot back. "I have to go now, but I'll be back tomorrow with more." I gave him a polite little wave and started walking toward my car.

•  •  •

As I pulled up in front of my brother's apartment, I noticed an unfamiliar black SUV in my usual parking space.

Keys in hand, I sluggishly walked up the three flights of stairs that led to my brother's apartment. It was when I reached the door I noticed the second strange thing: the door was unlocked. I know my brother, and I know he wouldn't just forget to lock the door to his New York City apartment. And red flag number three, aka the most obvious one, was the stranger standing in the living room talking to my brother.

"Aidan...," I call out softly as step through the front door, closing it behind me. "Who's this?" Standing in front of my brother was a tall, blonde man wearing a tailored gray suit that matched his cold eyes. Hot.

"Ah, Ms. Pierce, you've finally arrived," the man spoke. He had a deep, confident voice which I can only describe as sounding rich.

"Y/n," Aidan sighed. Why does he sound so stressed?

"What's going on?" I questioned. The stranger took a step towards me; his full attention now on me.

"Ms. Pierce in a quite...odd turn of events you've been summoned to the will reading of my grandfather, Tobias Hawthorne. And let me say you are very hard to reach."

"I don't understand. I've never met Tobias Hawthorne. Hell, I've never even heard of Tobias Hawthorne. What do you mean 'hard to reach'?" I stood there in the living room in disbelief. What is happening right now? I turn to face my brother. "Aidan, what is he talking about?"

     "Everyday for about a week letters have been showing up in the mail addressed to you from some lawyer in Texas. Seeing as you don't know anyone in Texas, I figured it was fake."