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Charity's bullets don't kill Daniel.
It's a close call, though. At least, that's what the internist tells her once she washes the blood off herself enough that they stop recoiling each time they have to speak to her. She'd be having the same reaction, in all honesty, but she hasn't the patience right now to deal with that on top of everything else.
Considering that all of his family exploded in a showering rain of viscera not twelve hours ago, Grace is thinking it's a lot more than just a close call. But the logistics of whatever happened aren't her concern.
She wants some sort of an explanation at some point. It'll have to wait until after he's out of surgery and intensive care, but she tells herself she has to remember to ask.
When she actually gets something from him, a week later, he's on intense painkillers and she's not entirely sure he's not bullshitting her the entire way.
"Funny story. Not really. But. Yeah. We were all adopted, Alex and Emilie and me, but I guess the old folks thought—rightly so—that baby me couldn't exactly play, uh, any board game. But Alex and Emilie were toddlers when their papers came through and they joined the family, so they did it, and I hadn't blown up yet by then, so. Yeah. Got left out of that one. A lot of goat sacrifices, though. To make up for it. Not fun. But, hey, I'm still in one piece. I guess."
"Great," is about all she can come up with. "I'm being asked some awkward questions, but glad I can blame it on your all being adopted and not on demons or whatever the fuck."
"Ah. The proper authorities." He grimaces.
"And hospital personnel, yeah." Her chair creaks. It's uncomfortable and noisy, and not making this conversation any easier.
He tries to sit up a little straighter in bed, and hisses only a moment later. "Know the drill on this one." The colours don't match up on his face—too much grey and blue, and not enough pinks and reds.
She tries to squint suspiciously, but gives up after a moment, vaguely lost. "What are we doing again?"
"It's called lying to the cops. And bribery. Can't forget about the foundations of how this family works."
"Got that, yeah. And then?"
"Trust me, if we don't get arrested then this'll be the last you see of me."
That elicits an unexpected twinge in her chest that's vaguely unpleasant and entirely unwelcome, but the only thought going through her head is the very eloquent, Oh, well, shit.
He sees something on her face she'd love to be privy to. "I wasn't actually hitting on you, before. You know that, right?" He's the one squinting now. His squinting face is unfairly attractive.
"Sure felt like it."
"It was the family trauma." Then, "And that's enough of this."
He's barely conscious, so that makes sense, and she leaves the room without replying or saying her goodbyes.
It's taken care of next time she comes to visit, already confused about the lawyers calling to schedule will readings and the police no longer staking out her hotel.
"As I said, lying and bribery. It's very efficient, Grace."
He's off the heavy duty pain meds, so his face is a kaleidoscope of various shades of grey and the first pinpricks of pink blooming in his cheeks. She can't remember the last time someone who hasn't been blown up into a shower of guts called her by her first name. She's Mrs Le Domas now, apparently, sometimes Ms, always accompanied by an air of confusion.
"Thanks for that."
He doesn't offer up any niceties, but Grace kind of knows that's just who Daniel is.
"How's cold turkey working out for you?" she asks, hopefully not tartly, though definitely a little meanly.
He laughs so hard she's afraid he might pop his stitches.
When he quiets down he makes a deliberate face and follows it up with more silence until she stares him down into an awkward, "Not my first rodeo."
She shakes her head to clear it. "It's none of my business, actually."
"It should be. I mean, there's a family fortune you could fight me for. I'm a better target if I'm only partially conscious."
"Yeah, that's not funny."
"It never was."
It's all handled by the lawyers, and by the time Daniel is discharged she's got papers for him to sign to sell off the mansion, bank account numbers are exchanged alongside addresses and phone numbers, and Grace kind of wonders if this is the last they'll see of each other.
No one's fighting anyone in court.
Dividing that many zeros is easy once you've decided to let other people handle it.
The death duties or whatever barely make a dent given the timing of everybody's death, which Grace is certain must be some sort of loophole, although she's sure it would have been A Lot regardless. The total estimates sound like fake numbers, Monopoly money, a video game.
Grace is close to saying she doesn't want it after all.
She's close to opting out of everything, closer still to giving almost all of it away, one sentence away from telling Daniel he can keep it all himself.
But she's also feeling angry at it all, and knowing she might regret it is what stops her.
After the lawyers leave she tells him as much. They're in her hotel room. It's as good of a place to meet as any.
"I'm going to give it away to the first ten charities I can find on Google. After I sell off every company I own now. You were smart to let me have those, they'll be easier to sell with only one owner, and the fuck-up son at that."
"Are you keeping any of it?" She doesn't want to be curious but she still is.
"I could keep one percent, since we are that. Still more millions than I know what to do with. You?"
"I have some ideas. But I need to sleep on it, figure out what makes sense. It'll go to charity the moment I'm gone anyway, but I think I want to use it, too. At least it'll fill up my time." She sighs.
"Need any help?"
She doesn't. But she has a feeling they're stuck together somehow. She's not sure how to handle this much money, he still seems fragile after everything, both physically and with all of the intergenerational trauma hanging over him. Neither should be alone.
Grace spares a thought to the family she thought she would have by now, all of the nieces and nephews and siblings-in-law and parental figures and the crap that has never stopped mattering even now. Wrong family. But a worthy goal, maybe. Pity about all of the blood.
"Sure," she says, and he sort of smiles. She didn't know he had it in him, not without the alcohol making him sarcastic and loose about the mouth.
Good enough. And it sort of has to be now, right?