Winds of Change Read Online Free PDF Page A

bundle of papers in the secret compartment at the back of the old, roll-top writing desk her father had often used, small as it was. She hesitated, wondering if she should leave these for Sebastian. Then rebellion surged up again and she began to read.
    It was a copy of her father’s will, dated . . . a year ago. She frowned and checked the date again. She hadn’t known her father had made a new will. Why hadn’t he mentioned it? Then she checked again and realized she’d been away on her annual week’s holiday at the time, a week when her father, highly reluctantly, employed paid carers full-time, because he refused absolutely to go into respite care.
    That date must have been chosen specially to keep the new will secret. Impossible not to read the papers after she realized that.
    She went to sit at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, praying Sebastian wouldn’t arrive for a while. The tea grew cold and the paper began to tremble in her hand as the meaning of the words sank in, and when she’d finished reading it, she burst into tears.
    Her father had cheated her, stolen all those years from her, promised so much and given so little.
    He’d left fifty per cent of everything to Sebastian,
the son and heir
, with the rest divided equally between two daughters. Regina’s share was to go to her to use as she saw fit, but Miranda’s was to go into a trust fund administered by Sebastian. There was a clause in the will asking her brother to make sure she was properly looked after.
    She didn’t want or need looking after. She wanted the freedom to look after herself – had more than earned it. She knew instinctively that Sebastian would try to keep control of her through the finances. He was the ultimate control freak.
    What was she going to do now? She’d counted on that inheritance, had more than earned it. If she wanted any freedom she’d have to get a job. But she had no marketable skills, unless you counted looking after cantankerous old men – and she’d had more than enough of that, had only done it because after her breakdown she’d been fit for nothing else at first.
    In times like these, well-qualified people were out of work. What chance would she have? None.
    It took her a while to calm down, by which time she’d decided to say nothing till the real will was read. After all, this was only a draft. Surely her father hadn’t signed such a will? Surely even he couldn’t have been so cruel?
    Regina arrived two days later. Dorothy met her at the airport and they popped in to say hello to Miranda, then went on to Sebastian’s house.
    â€˜I’ll come and stay with you for a day or two,’ Regina whispered as they said goodbye.
    The funeral took place the following day. Miranda put on black clothing, stared at herself in the mirror, then changed her mind and added a multicoloured scarf, a minute flag of defiance which brought a frown from her brother.
    Afterwards, at Sebastian’s house, she accepted a glass of white wine, took a dutiful sip, then edged her way to a corner, from where she watched the others. Her sister hadn’t changed. Oozing self-confidence and ferociously smart, Regina was chatting animatedly with Jonathon Tressman, their lawyer, son of the man who’d been the family’s lawyer for decades. Miranda kept away from them. His father had been one of the people who’d ruined her life all those years ago and she wasn’t giving the son a chance to do more damage.
    Sebastian was listening to his sister but keeping an eye on everyone in the room in that way he had. Occasionally he addressed a remark to his wife or to one of the other guests.
    Dorothy was standing with that bland expression on her face that said nothing about what she was thinking. Miranda didn’t feel at all close to her. Well, how could she feel close to someone who might report what she said to her brother?
    Caterers served