For the last several hours, Parker Wells Jr. had been asking himself the same question over and over again. What the hell was my father smoking when he married Patricia Lewis?

Sighing heavily, he watched the movers cart box after box from his father's mansion. It seemed Patricia had made out quite well for herself considering she'd been a "reformed" stripper when she became wife number five to Parker Wells Sr. With her bright blond weave, long fake nails and lashes, and her enhanced face and breasts, he often wondered how she really looked under all of that ... fakeness.

Gesturing to one of the movers, he grabbed the huge painting his father had commissioned of his latest wife. At least she got to keep it. The other four wives, including his own mother, hadn't fared so well. The paintings ended up in the incinerator the moment the divorce was final. Or, in his mother's case, the death certificate was signed.

Parker wondered if that was the moment he realized he didn't care for his father. Hell, he borderline hated him for most of his thirty-one years on this earth. For the life of him, he couldn't think of any redeeming qualities.

Senior, as they were instructed to call their father, had made it a point to not engage with his sons. His younger sister, Brooklyn, had a different experience as a little girl, when their mother was alive. She remembered their dad as kind and protective back then. Things didn't change for Brooklyn and Senior until Mama died.

On the other hand, Parker had never remembered feeling secure in his home, or even in his own skin. Everything about him had been picked apart since he could form a coherent sentence. His first memories of his father were painful ones, discipline for even the smallest infraction. His pants weren't ironed right, his hair was too long, he didn't enunciate his words properly, he wasn't smart enough, he wasn't fast enough on the football field. Never mind he had never received less than an A on anything, had made the All-State team and won MVP for every year he played football. After a while, he'd stopped even bringing home trophies or awards because they just didn't matter. And things had steadily gotten worse as he grew into adulthood.

After his mother died, he'd become a shield for his younger siblings, taking their punishments so they wouldn't have to be subjected to their father's wrath. Although, neither one of them had escaped unscathed. Most recently, his father had waged a war against Brooklyn for daring to say no to the arranged marriage Senior had set up. In 2018. Who promises their daughter's hand in marriage for a buck?

The last time his father had hit him was the one time Parker had ended up in jail. Parker could still remember the fury that had tightened his bones, turned his blood hot, yet cold, at the same time. He'd defended himself that day, and his father had never stepped to him again.

Of course, the punishment for that transgression had been banishment from the house and the family company, Wellspring Water Corporation. At the time, Parker didn't care. He'd considered it a blessing that he wouldn't have to be around Senior and his cronies.

Everything changed once he'd graduated from law school. He'd made it his mission to work his way back into his father's good graces, kissing up, going against his heart. It had chipped away at his soul.

But Parker had a plan. Inevitably, his father wouldn't be around much longer. And he would be able to run the company the way he saw fit. He would be able to do right by his grandfather's vision for Wellspring Water Corp. So, he'd bided his time, played the game. Now, it was his turn.

Parker Wells Sr. had suffered a massive heart attack several months earlier and was now comatose. The doctors weren't hopeful, but Senior was holding on for some reason. Maybe it was the old man's way of saying "fuck you" to all of them. As long as he was alive, the company would be his, the legacy would be one of darkness and corruption, not light and responsibility like Parker envisioned.

As the heir to the family company, Parker was next in line to take over as chief executive officer when Senior finally passed away. Recently, the board had voted him in as the interim CEO while his father was incapacitated. But there was more, so much more to the story.

Apparently, his father hadn't been content to cheat unsuspecting workers, steal land, and marry strippers. He'd actually committed a serious crime, forging their mother's will. Doing so allowed him to maintain control of a company that technically belonged to Parker and Brooklyn.

The scandal had rocked their small town of Wellspring, and he and his sister were currently working with a team of attorneys to fix the mess Senior had made of all of their lives.

A loud thump sounded from the sitting room in the front of the house. Next, he heard the crash of glass against the wall. Sighing, he rushed over to the room, where his sister had been arguing with Patricia for the last half hour — about anything and everything, from the priceless vase Patricia felt was owed to her to the Honey Nut Cheerios she wanted to take from the kitchen.

Brooklyn. Parker sighed when he thought of his little sis. She was petite, but she packed a punch. And she wasn't letting Patricia leave the house with anything that wasn't specified in the agreement they'd signed last week, no matter how petty and how miniscule the item was.

Pushing the door open, he scanned the room. Patricia was standing there, wig crooked and chest heaving. Brooklyn, on the other hand, was calm. There wasn't a hair out of place on his sister's head. Her clothes were pristine, like she'd just put them on. There was glass around Brooklyn's high-heeled pumps.

"What the hell is going on in here?" he asked his sister.

Brooklyn stared at him, amusement crackling in her brown eyes. "Patricia won't go quietly into the night like she agreed. She insists on breaking up all of Senior's shit. And what she fails to realize is I don't give a damn what she breaks. There is no way in hell she's going to walk out of here with anything not outlined in this agreement." His sister held up the divorce decree.

It had been their attorney's idea to offer a settlement to Patricia to divorce their father. Patricia had been happy to accept the offer, because they'd offered her a sum over and above what had been agreed upon in the prenuptial agreement and what would be bequeathed to her in the event of Senior's death. In fact, Patricia had been so eager to accept the terms of the agreement, Parker wondered if she had a boyfriend on the side somewhere.

The proceedings had gone well. There wasn't a lot of arguing, no real disputes over the terms. Ultimately, they'd come to an agreement. Which is why he was perplexed she was having so much trouble now that it was time to move out of Senior's house.

"Patricia, what is the problem?" he asked, arms out at his sides. "You knew this day was coming. You agreed to the terms."

Patricia glared at Brooklyn. "I can't stand that little bitch. I never could."

Brooklyn barked out a laugh. "Ask me if I care."

Parker cut Brooklyn a look that he hoped told her to shut the hell up so they could get the woman out of the house. Brooklyn got the message because she gingerly stepped away, avoiding the glass, and took a seat on one of the chairs.

Approaching Patricia, Parker said, "Is there anything I can do to make this transition...