If the last few horrible weeks had taught her anything, it was that she couldn’t take anything for granted. Diana hadn’t married Julian for his money. She had fallen in love with him, pure and simple. She had loved his patrician looks, his educated cleverness, his alpha-male poise and his power – not because of the cash he had in the bank but the confidence he had in a room, the way it felt to be at his side.
But still, she had enjoyed the financial security that life as a Denver had brought her. She would be a liar to say she did not love the exotic holidays, the money-is-no-object shopping sprees, the ability to buy her dream house at the click of her fingers. And yet here she was, sitting in a stranger’s office, waiting for the axe to fall. Even from beyond the grave, Julian had the power to take everything away from her. If there was already an American mistress, why not more of them, one in every port? For all she knew, there could be love-children, each one given a share of his estate. Perhaps he had even bequeathed something to Rachel – the one temptation who had refused him. The last weeks had been so unpredictable – she knew the will could contain anything.
Her mouth felt dry as Stuart Wilson cleared his throat and flipped open his own copy of the will.
‘I’ll go through the nitty-gritty in a few moments, but I should probably cut to the chase, as they say, shouldn’t I?’
Diana gave a tight nod.
‘Well, the long and the short of it is that Julian left all his personal possessions to you, Mrs Denver.’
Diana felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room.
‘I’m sorry?’ she croaked. ‘Everything?’
‘Well, not quite,’ said Wilson, licking his fingers and turning to the back page of the document. ‘He has left a few specific bequests: his cars, motorbikes, some small cash payments, a charitable fund – mainly a tax loophole, that one – and a particular, important bequest for your son, which we will come on to. But in the main, yes, everything goes to you. Somerfold and all its grounds and buildings, the house in Notting Hill, all his investments here and offshore and a sizeable amount of money in a number of bank accounts, including – ah – three in Switzerland.’
He looked up.
‘All as expected, I should imagine?’
Diana couldn’t reply. Her head was pounding. She had gone from believing that Julian had rejected her and their family to discovering that he had, in fact, made her a very wealthy woman. She felt lower than a snake for ever doubting him. He had loved her, and the thought of it made her feel suddenly heady.
‘Are you all right? You look quite pale,’ said Mr Wilson, standing and
going to a side table to fetch Diana a glass of water. ‘I know these occasions can be emotional,’ he said, handing it to her.
Diana sipped the water and handed back the glass.
‘Thank you, Mr Wilson, you’re very understanding.’
‘Not at all, dear lady,’ said the lawyer. ‘Between the two of us, in the past month I have had to deal with a couple of will readings where the wife in question was left nothing at all, in favour of a nanny and a work colleague respectively. All very unpleasant. Things were thrown.’
Diana rubbed her temples. It was all too much to process. Then suddenly something pushed through the fog.
‘What about Charlie?’ she said. ‘You mentioned that Julian had left him something?’
‘Julian wants his shareholding in the Denver Group to go to Charlie.’
‘What, all of it?’
‘Yes.’ Stuart Wilson ran his finger down the page, then tapped it. ‘All of his Class A and Class B shares in Denver Group and its subsidiaries. Left in trust for Charlie until he turns twenty-one.’
Diana shook her head. ‘He’s giving it to Charlie?’ Her heart felt as if it was about to burst with love.
‘With you as the trustee. I’m having a meeting with Ralph, Adam and Elizabeth Denver to let them know.’
‘You mean they don’t already?’ she asked with a surge of nerves.
‘The shareholding structure of the Denver Group is complicated. Much of the voting class of shares is held in family trust. However, when Ralph Denver suffered his stroke and stepped down, he handed ten per cent of the Class B voting shares to Julian, with a provision that those shares can only be transferred to other members of the family. Whether Ralph specifically knows that his grandson is to be the beneficiary of such a valuable shareholding I don’t know . . .’
‘When you say valuable – what are you talking about here?’ she asked cautiously.
‘Current valuation of the Class A shares would be around £850 million. The Class B shares are potentially more valuable because of the control they allow within the company. There is also a letter of intent expressing his wish that Charlie should one day be CEO of the company.’
‘He loved him. He really loved Charlie,’ she whispered, squeezing her fingers so tightly together that they began to hurt.
‘He loved you both very much,’ said Mr Wilson, nodding.