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“Yes. I have papers for you to sign.”
“Me?”
“You are Dillon Harris, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then they’re for you.”
Staring at the lawyer, I thought back to when my mother first started working at the Lyon’s. There was a man like this who had shown up at our door. He made it very clear that we were never to talk about anything my mother overheard or saw at the Lyon’s residence. The papers she signed were for a non-disclosure agreement, but the threat to our lives if we talked about what we saw didn’t have to be written down.
“Oh,” I said realizing the extent to which Remy didn’t trust me.
Without asking any questions, I quickly signed my name wherever the nymph directed me to. Each time, my heart clenched a little more. When the last page was signed, he handed me a large manila envelope.
“This is yours.”
“What is it,” I asked suspecting it was my copy of the paperwork.
“It’s the deed to the building for the outreach center.”
I froze. “I’m sorry, what is it?”
“The building’s deed,” he repeated this time searching my face to see if I understood. I didn’t. “What you signed was the paperwork for a trust that owned the building. You now have a controlling 51% interest in it.”
My mind spiraled. “I’m sorry, I’m confused. What does that mean?”
“It means that, for the most part, the building is yours. A part of the arrangement is that the building’s taxes will be paid by the Lyon family for the next 10 years. So you don’t have to worry about that. And you can do with it whatever you’d like. Which is, I assume, to create the outreach center you proposed to Mr. Lyon, correct?”
“Correct,” I confirmed still unsure of what was going on. Had Remy done this for tax purposes? Was this shady pack life stuff? “So, I can do anything I want with it?”
“Anything.”
“If I wanted to sell it?”
“You could.”
“And just so I’m aware, how much is it worth?”
“I can’t tell you off the top of my head. But I included the property’s appraisal in your package,” he said gesturing to my envelope.
I looked down at what was in my hand as if it contained a snake ready to bite. My heart raced thinking about what was inside. Opening it slowly, I reached in and pulled it out. Flipping through the pages, I found one with numbers on it. The appraisal wasn’t hard to find. It said that the building Remy had just given me was worth $1.5 million.
“Ahh,” I exhaled unable to breathe.
“Mr. Lyon also instructed me to give you this,” his lawyer said barely drawing my attention.
He was holding a business card. “He told me that you have an appointment with this person,” the nymph said cryptically.
“When?” I said almost too stunned to take the card.
“I think he meant now.”
Leaving the office, I rushed to the address on the business card unsure of what I’d find. When I arrived, a chic woman introduced herself.
“Hi, I’m Melanie. I’ll be your personal shopper. Mr. Lyon asked me to dress you like a representative of the Lyon family,” she explained as if trying not to hurt my feelings.
I thought for a moment and then looked down at what I was wearing. Knowing I would need to dress professionally for Remy, I had gone to a discount department store. The clothes I bought there were the right size and had fit as they should.
