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One
Brogan
I tap my fingers against the shiny black desk and glare at Levy who’s staring right back at me. “What do you mean I’m not getting the money?”
“I spoke clearly, Brogan.”
“Don’t pull that crap on me, Levy. My hearing’s just fine.”
He chuckles.
I lean back. “I’m here to make sure the transfer of assets goes as planned. It’s a simple yes or no question. Will I get the money or not?”
“Is the money that important?”
The answer to that question is ‘yes’.
Love? Family? Happiness?
All jokes.
I learned those lessons the hard way.
But money?
It’s the only thing that people understand. The only language that flows without interruption.
“Stop wasting my time.” I lean over the table. “Is everything in order for the asset transfer?”
Levy shakes his head of salt-and-pepper hair. He keeps it short. Close to his big ears. “I’m not about to repeat myself.”
“Humor me.”
“Then listen up.” He frowns. Glances pitifully at me over the desk.
Always with that blasted pity.
It’s the bane of my existence.
It’s why I resented moving back to this city.
I was happy in that Podunk town in the middle of nowhere.
Where few knew me.
Where hardly anyone heard my story.
Where no one cared.
“I’m sorry, Brogan. You’re not getting a dime.”
I grit my teeth.
That’s not a freaking option.
Someone could die.
This is my only chance to stop it.
“Why the hell not?”
“Your grandmother was very specific about her conditions.”
“I know.” I try not to let the desperation show on my face. “The money won’t be released until I’m thirty five.” I spread my fingers. The backs of my hands are red and patchy. Scars from another time in my life. Remnants from another version of me. “I’m three days away from my thirty-fifth birthday.”
“I’m aware.”
Silence fills the room.
Levy sits behind his giant mahogany desk.
Flicks the collar of his lux suit.
Runs dark brown fingers over his hair.
Brown eyes.
Fancy watch.
He’s staring at me on the other side of the table. I’m wearing a simple thermal and khakis. Boots. Scraggly beard. He’s thinking I’ve fallen off the beaten path. Tumbled off some cliff where I can never be rescued.
I see it in his eyes. The mental pictures he’s holding side by side. Comparing the man I am now to the one I was. Seeing the major differences.
They all see it.
They think I’ve gone crazy.
Maybe they’re right.
But crazy or not, I’m here to claim what’s rightfully mine. And despite how official he looks, Levy’s got no power.
He’s nothing but a faucet.
