AN: Jeez, this one is an old one.
Will
He grew up on the Upper East Side where people talked about their family's money, but he came from a family where money was never discussed. Not directly at least, and not to him.
At eight his parents had explained what his father did for a living. It would be years later until he realized that his family fortune came from real estate… More towers than Trump. More dollars than Davidson.
There were comments here and there… He'd overheard bits of business calls while they'd sat in the back of the same car, and once he'd asked his father for some help his junior year of upper school when struggling in his economics course.
It wasn't until he was eighteen, Meredith nearly twenty-one when they'd sat them down in his father's study.
It had been two weeks since his uncle's funeral, and one week out from Meredith's birthday— seven days until she had control over her trust fund.
They both looked tired. His father had barely been at the house in the last week. He was sorting out the corporate mess that an unexpected death brought. His mother had been away, offering a strong shoulder for Penny.
His dad slid two thick packets of paper across the table, one in front of each of them, before sitting back in his chair.
"What's this?" Meredith fingered through it while he just stared at his sister.
"We need you two to sign these." His voice was raspy. It was late. It was the first time they'd seen him in a week. "Not yet, but preferably in the next three days."
His eyes jumped across the table. "What is it?" He asked.
His father's hands folded together atop the oak table. "Changes to the trust."
"What kind of changes?" Meredith sounded worried.
His father squared his shoulders, looking his sister in the eyes. "Line of succession." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Meredith tense. "With my brother's death, we need to plan for what happens after your grandad and I are gone."
"Daddy I—"
"Mere," his mother said quietly from her seat on the couch. She stood, heels clicking as she crossed the room to the table. "It's Max, Sweetheart."
Oh boy. There were going to be fireworks. Maybe not now, not in front of their parents, but she'd ramble later when they were alone.
"What? But— but I'm the eldest!"
This was calm for her.
"You and your cousins will still hold equal shares. Trustees, board members. Once twenty-five you'll have voting powers."
"What about Jill?" He asked it so Meredith didn't seem like the asshole when she did.
His father's eyes left Meredith and found his. "Including Jill."
"But she's not blood."
"Blake," his mother warned. He'd get a talking to for the comment, though they both knew the original question, the legality of things, was fair. "She's family."
"How could you do this?" Mere's eyes were towards the table, head bent. He suspected tears were falling by now.
His mother's hand landed on her shoulder. "It was Grandfather's decision, Meredith."
She sniffled. "It isn't fair." She shook her head. "It's because I'm a girl isn't it?"
The question goes answered.
"Tomorrow I want both of you meeting with lawyers to comb through this. You need to understand what this—" He pointed towards the papers. "—means."
"Lawyers?" He emphasized the s. "As in plural? Not Mark?" He was the family lawyer. A close friend of his father.
"It's time you both have one of your own."
His head turned. His mom was still rubbing circles along Meredith's back.
"We won't always be here to mediate your squabbles," she said. "And when you're older it may very well be over the company."
He sighed. Protecting a future he didn't even know he wanted?
They're in Greenwich the next weekend, celebrating Meredith's birthday. And as they're seated around the table, other than cutlery cutting against china, the room is quiet.
They were still mourning Jimmy. A son. A brother. A father. Family. It was difficult to celebrate, especially for Meredith— she was still, understandably, worked up over the news they'd received last week.
"Can we please not talk about money," Meredith said. The comment came after Aunt Penny asked what she'd spend her trust money on first.
"Money's the reason we exist. You know that Mere." Max smirked around his glass. He was mocking. He was smug. He was always causing problems.
"Really?" Jill turned to her stepbrother. "I thought it was love."
"It is," he whispered.
And then came the stern voice. "Enough." Everyone turned towards the man who sat at the head of the table. "Meredith and Max…" Grandfather was already pushing back his chair. "Both of you in the study, now."
They really did it now.
He knew that their grandfather loved Meredith more than life itself. She was the firstborn, the first grandchild, the supposed to be heir to the company. His parents had primed her for it… She was studying business at Yale. Top of her class. Big businesses were pining for her, wanting her for internships over the summer. She had plenty of connections, and as of yesterday, plenty of money. Surely her future couldn't be determined by what was written on a lousy piece of paper… Right?