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Everything, including his jail time, stemmed from his lack of funds and what he was willing to do to get some.
If he had money, what was it all for? And, better question, why didn’t we know?
Cyrus moves closer and places his arm around Ivy’s shoulder. He leans in and whispers in her ear. I can’t hear what he says, but it seems to calm her.
“Can everyone please sit?” The lawyer smiles uncomfortably. Uh-huh. What the fuck are we here for?
“I’d rather stand as I hear how Dad fucked us over one last time.”
“Trent.” My sister’s soft voice should calm me. Unfortunately, it doesn’t.
Instead, I stalk toward the door, putting myself between the exit and every person in here. My feet punctuate the wood floor with my steps, delivering my intentions.
No one can exit unless I move. Until every fucking secret is spilled here and now.
“Very well.” Dad’s lawyer clears his throat. “If everyone else is ready, I’ll proceed.” He looks around the room, and everyone else nods. “Ronald had a considerable estate when he passed away. We set the estate up in an offshore account.”
My teeth grind together. That fucking bastard. “How much are we talking?”
“Millions.”
“How many?” I hiss. “Tell me just how much Ivy’s life wasn’t worth when he hung his daughter out to dry.”
“Twenty-two million.”
Before I know what I’m doing, my fist connects with the wall.
Plaster breaks away as I hear a scream from my mother, followed by Ivy’s soft voice in trying to calm down Cyrus.
I turn back to the lawyer, knowing full well the picture I painted with blood dripping down my knuckles. “How long . . . ?” Cyrus asks.
His lawyer at least has the decency to look uncomfortable.
“Long enough that he could have spared Ivy,” I mutter. “There’s no point in arguing. It’s obvious.”
When the lawyer doesn’t speak, Ivy lets out a strangled cry as she puts her head in her lap.
“If he weren’t dead, I would kill him,” Cyrus says.
Him and me both.
“Well,” I spit out, “now that we know with no measure of doubt—and mind you, this topic was never up for discussion—that my dad was an utter piece of shit, what do you have to tell us? I can only speak for myself by saying I have much better things to do.”
“Just sit, Trent,” my mother says.
I look over at the woman who used to be a shell of a human.
It’s remarkable how far she has come. She’s strong now. That’s what having my father away from her did.
His presence made her a shadow, and now that she’s stepped out, she’s bloomed. Maybe there’s hope for us all. But my eyes linger on the signs of her heartbreak, and I’m reminded of how useless feelings can be.
I let out a sigh and take a seat at the table.
From my position, I can see the girl.
Payton.
If she and her sister are here, it means he left them something, too. This should be interesting.
