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18
Kit
Speak Of The Devil
Late November – 4 Weeks until Bobby’s fight
Sitting at my desk on a Tuesday morning, I sip hot coffee while I wait for my email to load. I’ve set up automatic reports to run overnight that help me balance the company’s accounts; I can’t start anything else until that’s done.
I watch my bracelet twinkle in the sunlight that shines through my office window, and just as he hoped, I think of him every time the beautiful gold and diamonds catch my eye.
This bracelet has become a part of me. I wear it every hour of the day except during training, but as soon as I’m showered and done, it goes back on. If I was into a kinkier lifestyle, I’d almost say he’s collared me. And if his smoldering eyes when he watches me cross our bedroom in nothing but the chain were anything to go by, I’d almost think that he agrees.
Bobby’s been living with us now for about four months, and despite my worries, it’s been more amazing than I ever expected. I wasn’t sure how having two – three, if you counted Jack – stubborn asses living under one roof would go, but it’s been wonderful from the start.
To be able to wake next to him, to have him at the breakfast table, to relax with him in the evenings in front of the TV, and to be able to go to bed with him every night? It feels good.
Really, really good.
What Bobby and I have together is something I’ve never experienced before in my life; he’s my forever, and I’m not scared to admit it. I know deep in my heart he’s my forever and that he’d never do anything to hurt me. His actions, his words, the way he looks at me, it tells me all I need to know; I’m more important to him than even he is to himself.
It’s as though his happiness depends on mine, and in one of those wonderful life cycles, his happiness is the most important thing to me, so here we are, trying so fucking hard to make each other happy, and we’re both succeeding.
My email dings to let me know the reports have arrived, and when I set my coffee down and start scrolling, my eyes start to glaze over immediately. I need to seriously reconsider my career. It’s not yet nine a.m. and I’m already counting down the minutes until I can go home. I’d rather work on math with Jack than do this.
I stop and scroll back when I pass an email subject line:Deceased Reilly Estate – Urgent.
I skim the couple short paragraphs, but when I reach the bottom and find her number, I pick up the desk phone and start dialing. I’d rather talk with a human, at least then they can hear my angry scoff when they mention the two-hundred-dollar bill they’ll send for taking the call. It’s a shitty cycle that my cynical side now thrills in.
The receptionist answers on the third ring, I ask to speak to one of the lawyers handling my case, and within a single heartbeat, I’m put on hold and serenaded by the sounds of a gritty male voice as he sings about love.
“Hello Kit, this is Aleesia speaking.”
“Hey Aleesia. I just got your email. Can you break it down for me? Good news or bad?”
“Of course.” She shuffles papers on her end until she finds the one she’s looking for. “Not amazing news. But not bad… Well, I don’t know. I guess it depends on what you consider good and bad. This one’s tricky.”Of course it is.“Okay, so, we’ve consolidated all of your father’s finances. He had a few bank accounts open that he’d forgotten about; nothing substantial in them, but we consolidated anyway, so we can close accounts and finalize everything. We’ve also found insurance papers, all of which are expired or invalid, because he hadn’t paid anything into them for years. However, we found one that, although he hasn’t paid into, it was still open and active simply because he’d had money in there. So,” she taps keys, “in that account, he had $1,043.76 – which you’ll receive a check for – and because that was there, the insurance portion was still active, and in very small print there’s actually a death or total paralysis section, meaning you’re entitled to fifty-thousand dollars, bringing your total to $51,043.76.”
“Oh, okay.” I’m shocked that there was in fact a few dollars laying around.
“I highly doubt your dad even knew this was there. This was an account set up by an old employer more than eleven years ago and hasn’t been paid into for quite a few years. The average person wouldn’t have known to look for it, but this is our job and we know where and how to look. Now, in regards to your last email, about your family and money you weren’t sure existed, well I did some digging. Turns out your father opened an insurance policy in…” she ruffles more papers, “December last year. The policy ensures a payout of $750,000 to his nominated beneficiary in the event of his death. The paperwork was filled out and sent in by mail. Get this, thewitnesssignature belongs to a Mrs. Renee Finlee.”
My eyes narrow.Renee. That snake bitch.
“The beneficiary,alsoRenee Finlee… The account was paid by a direct debit from your dad’s bank account, but payments lapsed when he stopped working and his balance was no longer enough to cover the fees.” She noisily tosses a pen to her desk. “Here’s what I think happened. Your dad was diagnosed in November,‘he’opens a life insurance policy in December. However, we have no proof at all thatheever spoke to the company. I’m gonna go out on a limb and suggest he had no clue this policy existed. I think we’ll be speaking to Mrs. Finlee soon about attempted fraud. She missed a few pertinent details, though. One, whether she’s the elected beneficiary or not, as long as he has living minor children, no matter what the policy says, that minor will receive it, and no one else.”
Well that makes sense as to why they wanted Jack to live with them.
“Also, the fine print stated‘accidental death only, not to be paid out for suicide or pre-existing illness.’Since your dad was diagnosed before the policy had begun, the cause of his death is considered pre-existing. Clearly, Mrs. Finlee is terrible with details.”
But she damn well tried.
“So, after all is said and done, I regret to inform you, you won’t be receiving the $750,000 payout, because the policy had lapsed due to non-payment, but even if it had been paid, it’s still considered fraudulent. Either way, they were never going to pay that one out. But youwillreceive a check for $51,043.76, minus taxes and our legal fees, which I’ll send you a statement of account sometime this week. According to state law, because your dad had no legal will, as the sole minor child, the entire amount goes to Jack, not you. It’ll sit in a trust account, managed by you, until he’s twenty-one years old. Am I making sense so far?”
“Yeah, fifty-K. Trust account. Fraud.”
“Correct. You don’t have to worry about the stuff with your aunt. She won’t receive a thing except a happy little phone call from the insurance company’s legal team. As for everything else, after we cut you a check for Jack, the estate will be finalized and you won’t have to talk to me ever again. I’ll contact you in a few days to make an appointment for you to come in. We’ll need you to sign some papers, and we’ll go over your role as trust account manager. Basically, you can use the money for Jack’s essentials: school clothes, books, you can charge him rent at a fair price, things like that. You can also invest the money if that’s what you choose to do.” She lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry that you receive nothing; I know you’ve paid for everything so far, none of which you can recoup, but at least now you can charge him rent and take it from the trust. Just a way to make things a little easier on you. At our meeting, you’ll sign the estate paperwork, declaring it closed once you receive the check, and then that’ll be the end of that. Does that sound okay? Do you have any questions?”
My mind is spinning. “No, I can’t think of any at the moment.”
“Okay well, if you do, email me or write them down and we’ll discuss them at our meeting. I’ll let you go for now. Thanks for calling me.”
“Yeah, cool. Thanks. Talk to you later.” I place the phone back in its cradle and look around my office at a complete loss. I get what happened, theoretically, but I’m stunned. That phone call was… surreal.
