The Nation's President Picked Me Up From Prison-Chapter 42: Elyn: A Day Full of Suprises

"With the will being disputed, the company shares and assets will, of course, be frozen by the court. Which means you have no right to be sitting here, Elyn Merrit," Meryl says sharply.

The words are insulting but her tone is polished, refined, and wrapped in the kind of sophistication only old money can afford.

It makes the statement less offensive. I have to give her credit for that.

This is Meryl Hansley. Logan’s great-aunt. The eldest daughter of his grandfather. The one who married a foreign mogul and disappeared into a life of obscene wealth.

She was born rich. She has always been rich.

I’ve only met her once, at my wedding. We exchanged polite smiles and nothing more. Not enough time to know her. Not enough to understand what kind of woman she truly is.

Maybe she isn’t here for the money. Maybe she just wants Logan’s assets to go to the "right" hands. But if she is after the inheritance, then she’s greedier than I imagined. Luxury drips from her every movement, I doubt she needs a single cent of what Logan left behind.

"There were complications with my international transport documents," Meryl continues smoothly, "which prevented me from returning sooner, despite my strong desire to be here the moment I learned of Logan’s death."

Her gaze sharpens.

"However, based on the investigation, Logan had been taking antidepressants." She pauses, letting the implication sink in. "Which leads me to conclude that my nephew was not of sound mind when he drafted his will."

Murmurs ripple through the room. Soft gasps.

"It’s not something a keen eye would miss," Meryl adds, smiling at me, calculated, almost pleased. As if she has already cast me as the villain in her story. The villain she must eliminate to secure her happy-ever-after.

The thought makes me shudder.

If anything, she looks far more like the villain between the two of us.

"It is also worth investigating," she continues, "whether Logan truly understood the nature of your relationship when the will was made. If he believed you were his legal spouse at the time, that changes everything."

Her stare crawls over my skin.

I don’t know whether Logan knew about our unregistered marriage before he died and the uncertainty knots my stomach. Tight. Suffocating.

Maybe... maybe I should just give it up.

I don’t want the inheritance. I don’t want the company shares. Meryl isn’t Candice or Cora. She’s a Hansley by blood. Even if greed brought her here, she still fits better into this world than I ever will. She’s his aunt. The founder’s daughter. I figure she’ll make a better successor.

"Aunt Meryl."

The new voice cuts cleanly through the room, silencing every murmur.

We all turn.

My breath catches.

My jaw drops.

Guess what? There’s another surprise!

Dressed in a crisp navy-blue suit, a man steps into the conference room and stops a few feet from Meryl. He faces the crowd, lifting a hand in a casual, confident wave.

Nico Hansley.

Logan’s half-brother. The illegitimate son who vanished three years ago, erased from the surface of the earth.

He’s also my childhood friend. The same person I begged for help when I was in prison. The one I asked Dahlia to contact.

He never came, though. Didn’t even send a single message. So of course I never thought I’d see him again.

And yet—here he is. In the flesh.

"Logan was of sound mind when he made the will, Aunt Meryl," Nico says.

Then he turns to the room. "For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Nico Hansley. Logan’s half-brother." His lips curve faintly. "The Hansley bastard."

Great.

This has officially turned into a full-blown drama.

The air feels heavier, hotter, almost suffocating, and I’m right in the middle of it, when all I want is to sleep, eat in my apartment, and enjoy what was supposed to be a quiet vacation.

"And how can you be so certain he was of sound mind, Nico?" Meryl asks, her gaze sharp, venomous. "You weren’t even here. And I highly doubt you maintained regular communication with Logan."

"I didn’t. That’s true," Nico replies calmly, unbothered. His tone is smooth, almost lazy, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "But I did speak with the psychiatrist Logan had been consulting."

Meryl stiffens.

"He only began consultations two months ago," Nico continues, "and he had been on antidepressants for just one month."

"The will was made six months ago," I say.

So that should rule out Logan being mentally unfit when the will was written, right?

"But he could have been struggling long before he sought professional help—"

"That’s hypothetical," I cut in, my voice firm. "There’s no evidence to support that claim, Ms. Meryl. What you’re suggesting is purely an assumption."

Her eyes turn icy, sharp enough to freeze me where I stand.

"But we also can’t rule out the possibility that you manipulated him," she says coldly. "Why would Logan leave his company shares to you when he knew you weren’t legally his spouse? Unless you led him to believe otherwise. Unless he thought you were married, and therefore believed it was only right to leave you his assets."

I press my lips together.

I don’t even know why I’m fighting anymore. The Hansley Group shouldn’t concern me. It was never my ambition. Never my dream.

But... the thought of Logan’s hard work falling into the wrong hands twists something inside my chest.

We weren’t in love. But we shared something... something civil, something almost like a friendship. He wasn’t affectionate, but he was kind and helpful. And that has to count for something.

The conference room doors open again.

This time, an elderly man enters in a wheelchair, pushed by a man in a black suit.

I don’t recognize the old man, but the one behind him is unmistakably familiar.

Something clicks in my head.

The man pushing the wheelchair is a member of Greg’s security.

What is he doing here? And who is this old man?

"Lawyer Tyson," Director Bennett says, his stunned expression is enough to tell me that the old man is someone important.

The room goes dead silent.

"I’m Fred Tyson," the old man says evenly. "A friend and former lawyer of Logan’s father, the late Mr. Hansley."

"I drafted Logan’s will according to his explicit wishes," Mr. Tyson continues. "I’m here to clarify that the document is legally valid, and that Logan was of sound mind at the time."

My pulse hammers.

"He first contacted me nearly a year ago. We drafted the initial will then. Six months ago, we revised it without major changes."

The tightness in my chest eases, just a little.

If the will was drafted twice, months apart, with the same intent, Meryl can’t claim Logan wasn’t mentally capable.

"Regarding Logan and Ms. Elyn’s relationship," Mr. Tyson says, glancing briefly at me before fixing Meryl with a steely stare, "I can confirm that their relationship was not the determining factor in the inheritance."

Meryl’s jaw tightens.

"I can’t speak on their private life," he adds calmly. "But Logan was fully aware that they were not legally married."

The silence that follows is heavy.