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The next text is a picture. Pumpkin appears on my screen sporting a hot dog costume. I snort on a laugh as the next message arrives.
Dash: Charlie sent this. Paige insisted we put it on her.
Luna:Seems like you’re pretty lucky to have such a giving brother-in-law.
Dash: She says he got a hamburger costume for Pig.
A slow grin tugs at my lips as I imagine Charlie in a pet supply store shopping for dog outfits. He’s taken on the role of dog dad and run with it. I half expect to arrive home to find him giving Pig a pedicure.
I’m in the middle of typing a response when an unfamiliar number flashes on the screen, I almost let it go to voicemail. But then I remember that 302 is a Delaware area code.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Lamont? This is Daniel Carmichael.”
Why is Wai Po’s lawyer calling me?
“Hi. What can I do for you?”
The man coughs on the other end of the line, and all my muscles—loose and warm from my workout—tighten up quickly.
“I received a concerning call this morning.”
“Oh, really?”Give me one guess who the caller was.
“Yes. The party expressed concern over your ability to fulfill the stipulations your grandmother set forth in the will.”
Unbelievable.
No, scratch that. Totally believable. I should’ve known my father would have pulled this kind of shit.
“And what, exactly,” I bite the words out, “did this party say was the problem?”
He clears his throat. “That you were already married, and therefore any new arrangement would be false, and because you are not living with your legal husband, you aren’t fulfilling the requirements.”
I bark out a laugh, the sound harsh in my throat.
“I have only married one man, and that is Charlie Keller.” I almost add that he is the only man I ever want to marry, but the thought isn’t relevant and also shocks the hell out of me. But I push past it. “Did this party provide you any proof of this fake previous marriage he claims I was in?”
Silence. “Not as of yet.”
I grit my teeth, wishing fixing things were this simple. But knowing Bill Lamont, they won’t be.
“I’m going to assume the person who contacted you is my father, and I would like you to consider what he has to gain if I fuck this up.”
There’s a sharp cough on the other end of the line, and I can hear the disapproval of my cursing in the noise. Damn it. I need this guy on my side. Or at least neutral.
“You may or may not be aware,” I grind out, doing what I can to keep my cool, “that my father has known criminal associates.”
“Like your brothers.”
Fucking hell, I wish I could punch this stuck-up lawyer straight in his jaw.
“Yes.” I keep my voice deadpan because that’s the best I can do. “If you receive any kind of documentation that claims I’ve been married in the past, I would appreciate it if you give me the chance to refute the document because I can assure you it would be a forgery. And I am sure you and your office would hate to find out that you paid out an inheritance to the wrong benefactor if I were to prove the document was invalid at a later date.”
There’s a stretch of silence on the other end of the line, then a stern response. “As you are the intended benefactor, I of course would give you the opportunity to demonstrate you have adequately fulfilled the terms of the will. No funds will be paid out until all proper channels have been followed.”
“Thank you,” I manage to say.
