When you lost somebody; every candle, every prayer was not going to make up for the fact that the only thing that you had left was a hole in your life where that somebody that you cared about used to be.

Damon Salvatore stood at the doors that opened onto the veranda as he watched the family members of Grayson Gilbert strode into the Gilbert Manor. Beyond the veranda, in the lush valley below, the town of Mystic Falls, was clearly visible with its winding, tree-lined streets; manicured park; quaint shopping area; and, off to the right, the rolling hills of Mystic Falls Country Club. Situated precisely in the centre of Mystic Falls was Gilbert Ridge, the plush resort that had been in their family for generations. Like most small communities, Mystic Falls had a well-established social hierarchy, and the Gilbert family was as firmly ensconced at the pinnacle of that social structure as the Gilbert Manor was entrenched upon Mystic Falls' highest bluff.

Today, however, Damon's mind was not on the view from the veranda. He had lost someone important only a week before. Grayson had been a family friend since he was born. Unlike many of the socialites Damon had met in the course of his job, Grayson Gilbert was neither pompous, soft, nor filled with self-importance. He was always energetic, hardworking, blunt, and fair. He had exacting standards for everything, from his staff to his family to his horses. Those who fell short of his expectations—be it employees, hunting dogs, or horses—were soon gone from the premises, but he treated those who met his standards with respect. When he was home, he visited the stable every evening and strolled down the wide corridor dispensing carrots and friendly pats to each of the splendid horses who inhabited the ultramodern stalls.

Damon had liked and respected Grayson since he was a child. After leaving FBI because of a near fatal injury five years ago, he was completely lost. He had moved back to Mystic Falls, trying to decide what he should do for the rest of his life. During that time, Grayson had become a kind of mentor to him, offering advice and insight in his career. A year later, he joined Alaric as the legal advisor for Gilbert Ridge.

He didn't know why he had been summoned back to Gilbert Manor. He had just been there yesterday for the funeral. However, when Alaric Saltzman, his best friend called and asked for a favour, he would always drop everything and be there for him – just like he knew the same was true of Alaric. If Damon needed him, he would be there – and with back-up.

Damon glanced at his watch and decided it was time to find out what the meeting was about. He walked down a long hall towards the great room at the front of the house. He turned a corner and found himself confronting a group of people who were all Gilberts. Taken as a group, it was easy to see the family resemblance. They were a tall, dark-haired lot who carried themselves with the self-assurance and poise that came naturally to a proud, established clan.

"Hello," he said to the room at large.

A hush fell on the small crowd. Everyone turned to look at him.

John Gilbert, Grayson's younger brother was standing at the window talking quietly to his cousin Christopher Gilbert. He turned his head at once at the sound of Damon's voice. His eyes pinned him across the distance of the room.

"Why are we here, Alaric?" Samantha Gilbert, Christopher's sister asked from her seat, bracing her elbows on her knees. "I thought you are going to read the will tomorrow. And by the way, why is Damon here?"

"There is one thing to cover before I read the will."

"What's there to cover?" Christopher asked, shifting a glance around the room at his family. "Seems pretty clear to me. The huge Gilbert estate will be divided equally among us."

"I still can't believe he is gone," Melissa, Christopher's wife whispered.

Isobel Gilbert, John's wife dropped one arm around her shoulders and gave her a supportive hug. "It will be okay, Mel."

"Will it?" Samantha asked. "Who is going to take over of Gilbert Ridge? I mean, who will take Grayson's place as the president and CEO of Gilbert Ridge?"

"I understand this is a difficult time for all of you," Alaric said softly and waited until all eyes were on him. "I do. I told Grayson this wasn't the way to handle things."

"Let me guess," John interrupted, "My brother wouldn't listen."

"He had his own ideas."

"Always did," Christopher mused.

"The point is," Samantha said, voice loud enough that everyone settled down to hear her, "Why is Damon here? I know Grayson liked him a lot but he is still an outsider."

A sharp silence struck the room.

"Samantha is right," Damon said. "Why am I here?" He didn't want to be rude but he didn't want to stand around discussing about family matters which didn't concern him.

"I like a man who gets straight to the point," Alaric replied, not answering Damon's question. Damon looked again at Alaric and felt like he was being assessed.

John's expression turned fierce. "Can you stop beating around the bush?"

Damon hadn't been around Grayson's family much; apart from at work, but not enough to really feel he knew any of them well. They had never before been hostile, although he wouldn't consider them a nice bunch of people.

"I guess this is my opening," Alaric said as he looked at Damon. "We have a situation here and Grayson and I have come up with a solution that you may not be too thrilled about. When they hear what I'm going to say next, I think they may want to take their frustrations out on you."

"What do I have to do with this?" Damon asked, wanting to know what was going on. He was sick of them sidestepping the issue.

"The estate has been split, not into three equal shares, but four."

"Four?" Christopher repeated, glancing around at his family as if doing an unnecessary head count. "But there are only three of us."

"Grayson's last surprise," Alaric said quietly. "He had a daughter."

The atmosphere in the room, tense but subdued until now, suddenly took on the aura of impending disaster. Samantha's eyes widened in appalled shock. John looked grimmer than ever. Christopher did not move.

Damon stared at Alaric. "What the hell are you saying?"

"You are lying," Samantha hissed. "Grayson was never married."

"Samantha is right. Grayson never told me about any children. I'm positive he didn't have any." John rubbed the bridge of his nose. He appeared dazed. "You tracked down some deadbeats up somewhere and bribed them to pretend they were Grayson's long-lost offspring. Admit it."

"I'm sorry, John. Grayson had a daughter, by another woman. She is one of the heirs to the estate."

"If those so-called heir do exist, which I doubt very much, they are illegitimate."

"The law makes no distinction," Alaric said patiently. "A man's children are his offspring regardless of whether or not he was married to their mother."

"Can you prove it?" Samantha asked, her voice very tight.

"We have extensive proof that Grayson's daughter has every right to a portion of her father's estate."

"A portion?" Samantha's voice went up a notch, hitting the shrill threshold. "She is getting an equal share of the estate."

"You heard me, Samantha. Grayson's daughter has every right to her share of the estate."

Isobel smiled benignly. "It is not as if you didn't get a very nice chunk of change yourself."

Samantha turned on her. "The estate has been split into four equal shares. Four, not three."

There was a short, fraught pause. Damon became aware of the hushed silence that had settled in the room.

"I think you should calm down and listen to Alaric, Samantha," he said very softly.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up, Salvatore," Samantha screeched. "If Grayson really did have a daughter why didn't she show up at the funeral?"

"Grayson never married the woman," Alaric explained. "They lost track of each other years ago. The reality is that he walked away from the woman at some point and never looked back."

"This is ridiculous." With that Samantha turned and stormed out of the room.

There was a brief silence.

"I think we have had enough dramatics," John said finally. "Tell us what you are going to do, Alaric."

"Grayson had arranged things to get her back to Mystic Falls. Just like he always wanted," Alaric said.

Shortly after the other Gilberts had left, Damon and Alaric sat in front of the fire, a half-finished glass of bourbon on the arm of the chair beside them, a thick file of papers in Alaric's hand.

Damon glared at him. "Care to explain why am I involved in this?"

"I was just doing my job, Damon," Alaric said. "As I'm sure you are aware, I'm the attorney handling Grayson's estate. The trust provided for his family."

"But what do I have to do with this?" Damon asked in horror.

"Grayson needed someone he could trust to help me with this," Alaric said. "And I regard you as the best man I know."

Damon gave him a thin smile. "How nice of you."

Alaric ignored the sarcasm. "The Gilbert Ridge is at a very vulnerable stage at the moment. What had happened a few minutes ago could destroy everything Grayson had worked so hard for all these years."

"Right," Damon said. "It was all about money."

"A lot of money," Alaric said.

"Money or revenge," Damon said. "It is amazing how often the two tend to go together."

"Wow." Alaric was awed by the insight. "That is heavy, real heavy."

"No," Damon said. "It is human nature."