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“Howard, damn it. You pick up this phone right now or I’m hiring a lawyer. I’m serious. This is ridiculous. You started that fight!”
“Howard, it’s me.”
“Howard.”
“Howard, pick up this damn phone!”
I sighed as I listened to Cecilia shriek her head off into the phone. She hung up and threw her cell phone across the room, damn near shattering it against the wall. I walked over to her and rubbed her back. She put her head in her hands and started sobbing, she was so angry. Or confused. Or scared.
Possibly, all three of them.
I knew she wanted answers to her questions. But I also knew my father would never give them to her. He didn’t operate that way. Once he set his mind on a mission, he saw it all the way through. She shouldn’t have threatened a lawyer, either. Because now, he’d go through with it and cut her off.
Like he’d apparently done to me.
While Cecilia had been blowing up his phone, I’d gotten on the phone with the bank. I mean, it took me a little while to figure out who the fuck managed my trust fund. A call to my regular bank led me to three other phone lines before they told me they had no idea. So I had to go poking around in my father’s study. I pulled out drawers and sifted through files. I came across all sorts of random documents with monetary numbers on them that made my head spin. And finally, I came across a couple of names that looked promising.
So I called them both.
The first one told me they didn’t manage funds like that. The second one told me I wasn’t privy to the information. Which meant I was on the right track. I pulled out all the fucking paperwork for that place. And while my father was shit at a lot of things, keeping a paper trail wasn’t one of them. He had records dating back to when he opened the damn account in the first place. I was able to trace that account from its inception all the way up to a few months ago.
When I had turned eighteen.
Cecilia sniffled. “What did the bank say?”
I sighed. “Not much.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “According to the paperwork, that account became mine the second I turned eighteen. But the man I spoke to said that until I was twenty-two, I couldn't have unfettered access to it.”
She turned around. “Has it always been that way?”
“Not from what I can tell. I went into Dad’s study and read through the agreement.”
“He’s not going to like that.”
“He’s currently smoking us out of our own home by controlling the only thing he’s got control over. I don’t give a shit what he likes.”
She paused. “Do you still have access to the money?”
“The man on the phone said I did. But I can’t transfer any more than five thousand at a time without Dad’s permission. So I initiated a transfer of $4,999.00 into my own bank account to see if I can actually get it to go through. And if I can, that opens up some doors.”
She shook her head. “How in the world did it all come to this?”
“The second Dad realized he couldn't use his money and influence to yank our chains any longer.”
“Can I admit something to you?”
“Sure.”
“I’m scared, Clinton.”
I nodded. “I know you are. But we’ll find a way out of this, okay? Come the end of the day, I should see a pending deposit in my account. And if that money’s there in the morning, I’m calling that guy from the bank back and initiating transfers until Dad stops it.”
“Is this what’s going to happen now? Scrounging around for scraps?”
“With Dad, preparing for the worst is what you have to do. Let’s hope there’s a better outcome, but make a plan in case there isn’t. Okay?”
