"Mr. Rollins, thank you for coming. I understand this is somewhat unusual, but I'm sure you'll understand the necessity." Damien Sandow shook Seth Rollins' hand and led him into his office.

"As I told you, I'm totally in the dark about my great-uncle's business affairs," Seth admitted. He waved off Damien's silent offer of coffee and relaxed into a very comfortable chair. "As far as I knew, he just owned the building where he lived and the bookstore is located."

Damien nodded as he sat behind his desk. "Six months ago, John Rollins purchased the buildings on either side of the bookstore. The one to the left is being renovated as a deli. His plans were that it would serve the neighborhood as well as being a place where people could sit and eat. The one to the right was going to be a study hall." He smiled at Seth's confused expression. "He'd arranged with some retired teachers to do some tutoring for students of all ages. An expansion of what he'd been doing in the bookstore." He opened a file. "In addition, he was renovating the second floor of both buildings into apartments."

Seth blinked. "I had no idea. He must've gone into debt to do all that. He said he'd never go into debt," he muttered.

Damien briefly smiled. "Mr. Rollins was my client; and in the preparation of his will, I became familiar with his affairs. Your great-uncle didn't go into debt. He was a fairly wealthy man who'd made sober business decisions and held sound investments." He held out a legal document of several stapled pages. "This is his Last Will and Testament. His entire estate, investments, stocks, bonds, bank accounts and all properties and businesses are left to you."

Seth's dark eyes widened. "He said he didn't believe in inheritances," he finally whispered. "Why…"

Damien put the Will on his desk and leaned back in his own chair. "Mr. Rollins was a very proud man," he quietly said. "Sometimes, proud men can't…say certain words. Sometimes, they feel circumstances will change so there's no need to say them." He cleared his throat and leaned forward. "That is your copy of the Will. In the Will, Mr. Rollins stated that if you don't wish to accept responsibility for owning and running the businesses…bookstore, deli, and study hall…and wish to sell them, you are instructed to give first refusal to Mr. Roman Reigns."

"Roman Reigns? I think I remember him? I remember him and my great-uncle having dinner sometimes," Seth recalled.

Damien smiled. "No, you're remembering the late Sika Reigns, Roman's father. Roman is running his father's business now. I believe he stayed in touch with your great-uncle. From what I understand, Roman would definitely buy the businesses if you choose to sell them."

"I met someone after the funeral." Seth reached into his pocket for the business card. "A Mike Mizanin. He said he and my great-uncle had reached an agreement that he would buy the bookstore." He reached the card across the desk to Damien who took it then tossed in onto the desk.

"I assure you, John Rollins had no intention of selling to Mr. Mizanin," he smirked. "Mr. Mizanin pestered your great-uncle until he threw him out of the bookstore and threatened to have him arrested if he returned. I would speculate, with a great deal of assuredness, that Mr. Mizanin was lying in the hopes of getting you to agree to sell to him. Which, according to John Rollins' Will, you can't unless Mr. Reigns declines to purchase the businesses."

"And Roman Reigns will purchase them?"

Damien nodded. "Mr. Rollins assured me of that, and I have no reason to doubt it." He pushed the business card back towards Seth who took it and put it back in his pocket. "My advice is to tell Mr. Mizanin that you can't make any decisions until the Will is probated. That will also give you time to decide what you want to do."

"How long will it take?" Seth asked.

"I'm named as the Executor, and you're the only beneficiary so all parties have been notified," Damien explained. "An inventory of all assets must be completed within 90 days of today. Your great-uncle was very thorough and provided such a list as of a month ago. It won't take long to verify and update that list, mostly to determine current market values on his investments. Normally beneficiaries receive their inheritances in four to eight months although since much of the work has already been done, I'd say this should all be settled in probably four to six weeks."

"What about the renovation work? I'm sure there's money owed to the contractors?"

"Your great-uncle set up a separate fund to take care of that," Damien continued. "I have authority to pay for the work that's been done and see that it's continued. You and I will need to meet at least every two weeks so you can verify all expenditures have been properly executed."

"My great-uncle trusted you a great deal, Mr. Sandow," Seth smiled. "I'm sure everything would be proper and legal."

Damien smiled. "Thank you for your trust. But it's not only good business practice but good legal practice to confirm every detail."

"Of course," Seth nodded. He saw Damien hesitate, and asked, "Is there anything else?" He reached for his copy of the Will and folded it.

"Your great-uncle left this letter for you." Damien slid a sealed envelope across the desk.

Seth stared at the envelope for several seconds then took it with a hand that was slightly shaking. "Thank you," he murmured.

"Are you staying in Davenport?" Damien asked.

"Yes, I'm at the Hilton," Seth nodded as he stood. "I need to decide if I'm staying until I make a decision." He stared at Damien. "I guess I should. The bookstore needs to be opened, doesn't it?"

Damien slightly nodded.

"I'll…I'll be in touch, Mr. Sandow. Thank you for…everything." Seth hesitated. "Um…how much is my great-uncle's estate worth?"

Damien smiled once again. "I can only give you an estimate at this point without having completed the actual inventory. But you should receive somewhere in the neighborhood of five million dollars."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pizza had never tasted so good. Cheese. Garlic. Pepperoni. Sausage. Olives. Moxley didn't care if he was making a pig of himself. Five years without pizza was cruel and unusual punishment in his opinion.

Roman managed to keep from laughing out loud or asking his brother if he wanted to get a room for him and his pizza. He just sat quietly and enjoyed it.

The two men sat on the back deck of Roman's house which had once belonged to Roman's father. The large expanse of the back lawn included a large swimming pool, fire pit, and outdoor kitchen/patio. The evening air was a little cool for Roman's liking, but he knew Moxley was enjoying it so he settled in.

"I can't believe I ate all that."

Roman couldn't help but chuckle. The extra-large pizza he'd ordered for his brother was now nothing more than an empty box with a few pieces of crust. "I take it you liked it?"

"Best damn pizza I ever ate," Mox assured him as he settled back in the comfortable lawn chair and balanced the bottle of water on his thigh. He looked up at the darkening sky and wondered if he'd be able to see any stars.

"We've got an appointment with the attorney tomorrow morning at ten," Roman quietly spoke. "William Regal. He'll go over everything with you about your release and the settlement."

"Starting over from scratch," Mox casually commented.

"Which reminds me. I got you a cell phone. You can get another one if you want, but at least you'll have something to use until you do. And it's not something you have to take care of immediately," Roman commented. "Remind me to give it to you later." He felt Mox's eyes on him. "And you know you can stay here as long as you want."

"I know. And I will." Mox slowly sat up and swung around to sit facing Roman. "You've done a hell of a lot for me, Roman. Stop trying to make up for stuff that's not your fault. Or your responsibility."

Roman turned to stare at his brother. "Kinda hard," he admitted. "But I get it."

Mox nodded. "So tell me who's behind The Miz and why old man Rollins' bookstore is on your radar."

Roman sighed. "Remember the McMahons?"

Mox snorted. "You mean the Golden Boy and the Bitch?"

Roman snickered. "Yeah…well…their old man and mine were…competitors, shall we say. All smiles and friendly handshakes, but each one would've done the other in if they'd had the opportunity. The old man, though, got sick and moved to the south of France. For his health."

Mox grunted. "Who was after him?"

"The Feds for sure. Think he also crossed some other powerful families," Roman admitted. "Dad took over a few of his businesses, but basically kept out of the fallout. Shane overreached himself a few years later and took off for the Far East."

"So Stephanie's running things?"

"Her husband. Guy by the name of Hunter Helmsley." Roman eyed his brother closely. "Mean son of a bitch. Don't ever turn your back on him. For any reason." When Mox slowly nodded, he continued, "Helmsley runs things from back East, but has pretty much iron control. He started expanding about a year before Dad died. A little bit here. A little bit there. Some people sold willingly. Others didn't. The old editor of the Davenport Daily decided to do some digging. He disappeared one night. Six months later, the Daily's under new ownership."

"Shell corporations?" Mox asked.

Roman nodded. "Besides the Daily, Helmsley's got a couple of gyms and a martial arts studio, small chain of grocery stores, and a couple of high-end restaurants. His latest is the Davenport Star Hotel and the Davenport Diamond Casino. They're located right next to each other for your gambling convenience. Less well known is the high-class escort service he owns."

"How much of the police does he own?"

"Surprisingly not much," Roman admitted. "Chief of Police is Dean Malenko. Hired by the former Mayor. Squeaky clean with friends in high places. The rank and file think he can walk on water, and the public loves him because he's brought down the homicide rate and holds his people accountable. The current Mayor, however, would love to get rid of him."

"Who?"

"Paul Heyman. Most likely allied with Helmsley who, by the way, calls his operation 'The Authority'."

Mox rolled his eyes. "And The Miz?"

"One of Helmsley's men. Front man for buying real estate."

"So why old man Rollins' bookstore?" Mox mused. "It's not in a bad part of town but not in a great one either. Bookstore wouldn't be making much money."

"Not sure," Roman admitted. "But Rollins bought the buildings on either side of him. One's going to be a deli, and the other a study hall with tutors for students needing help in school."

Mox snorted. "None of them are going to be money makers. So why the interest? Miz doing a little business on his own?"

"Doubt it. Like you said, none of them are going to be money makers. And Miz's wife is high maintenance."

"Miz was always high maintenance," Mox grunted. He settled back into the lawn chair. "Think Rollins' nephew will sell?"

Roman shrugged. "After I drop you at Regal's office, I'll try to catch up with him. You can call me when you're done, and I'll pick you up."

Mox looked up at the darkened sky and saw a few twinkling stars. It was getting cooler, but he'd stay outside a little longer until he saw more stars. He knew Roman would stay with him no matter how long it took.