The Inheritances Game (Jameson Hawthorne)

Heights Country Day School

A/N: The pictures above is what I imagine the school uniforms to look like

I adjusted my blazer, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I exited my room. Heights Country Day School, a prestigious prep institution, demanded formal attire, and today was no exception. As I reached the front door, the sound of footsteps echoed behind me.

"Cal, wait!" I turned to find Jameson bounding down the stairs, his tie draped casually over his shoulders.

"I think you forgot to tie your tie," I remarked, closing the distance between us.

"Maybe I didn't forget," he replied with a shrug, prompting a sigh from me as I reached up to knot it for him.

Once his tie was properly secured, I turned towards the door. "Come on, if we want to catch a ride, we must get going." Jameson swung the door open, and together, we stepped outside. 

However, before I could head towards the car, Jameson halted me.

"This is the second time you've stopped me; I'm starting to think you don't want to go to school today," he remarked.

"I showed Avery my letter," he explained.

"What did she make of it?" I asked,

"Don't know, I need to ask," he replied before settling into the seat. "You read my letter," Jameson directed towards Avery, who sat across from us.

"Xander need a ride?" Oren, our driver, interrupted.

"Xan goes to school early on Fridays for extracurricular activities," I explained. 

"You okay with company?" he added,

"It's fine," she assured us.

As Oren started the car, he glanced back. "She's the package. If there's an incident..."

"You save her first," Jameson finished, leaning back in his seat. "Grandfather always said Hawthorne males have nine lives. I can't possibly have burned through more than five of mine."

I rolled my eyes. "Once again, it's possibly not true that you have nine lives."

"Correct, I have around four," Jameson retorted with a smirk.

"Here," Avery said, handing Jameson her letter. I watched over his shoulder as he opened it, revealing only two words: I'm sorry, signed by T.T.H.

"That's it?" Jameson questioned.

"Do you know what he's apologizing for?" I asked, puzzled.

"Any great and anonymous wrongs in your past?" Jameson directed towards Avery.

"One," Avery replied softly. "But unless you think your grandfather is responsible for my mom having an extremely rare blood type and ending up way too low on the transplant list, he's probably in the clear."

"We'll come back to your letter," Jameson swiftly changed the subject. "For now, let's turn our attention to mine. Mystery Girl, what do you make of it?"

As Avery analyzed Jameson's letter, I listened intently, intrigued by her insights. "Your letter is written in proverbs," she began. "He's saying that money and power are dangerous, and the first line - better the devil you know than the one you don't - or is it? - that's obvious, right?"

"What else?" I prompted when she paused.

"Nothing is certain but death and taxes. It sounds to me like he knew he was going to die."

"We didn't even know he was sick," Jameson muttered.

"There but the grace of God go I," Avery continued. "With different circumstances, any of us could have ended up in anyone else's position."