At my father’s funeral, my husband leaned toward me and murmured, “You’re not needed here.” I just smiled. I had no idea of the secret inheritance my father had left me. As the limousines began to line up in front of the church, he paled. “Who are those men?” he whispered. I leaned closer and replied, “They work for me.” It was in that instant that I knew everything was about to change… and that my life was just beginning.
The sky over Barcelona was covered with dark clouds on the day of my father Richard Hall’s funeral. He was a Briton who had built his life—and his fortune—in Spain. The church of Santa Maria del Mar resonated with the muffled murmur of the mourners, but I only heard the echo of my own footsteps as I walked behind the coffin. It was a difficult moment, and yet my husband, Tomás Llorente, chose to make it even more painful.
