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I opened the front door momentarily forgetting I was just wearing my undies.
One bottle of domestic Chardonnay wine: $6.99
The look on Trey Sinclair's face after I'd finished drinking it: Fucking Priceless!
“Come on in, Trey. I thought you were Clint.”
He raised an eyebrow, glancing at my attire. “Dressed like that?” he snapped. I acted like I'd been oblivious to what I was wearing. I looked down at my stomach, seeing the navel ring and low-cut silk bikini panties.
“Oh, I forgot I hadn’t put my robe on after I changed. Is it warm in here?” I asked, fanning myself. “Be right back.”
I took my time walking to my bedroom, knowing that his sapphire eyes were watching my backside the whole way; I got some satisfaction in that. I grabbed my bathrobe from the hook on the bathroom door and put it on. I left the belt untied; I didn’t want to hide everything from him. As I exited my room Trey was in the kitchen, picking up all of the trash. As he picked the empty wine bottle up, he turned to me.
“How were you able to buy this?” he asked. I hesitated for a moment, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. “Because if I find out anyone that works for me bought you alcohol after all the shit that happened a few weeks back, that's cause for immediate termination.”
“Chill, Trey,” I laughed. “I bought it myself when I was staying with Gina. They didn’t card me.” I sauntered over to where he was standing, taking the empty wine bottle from him and setting it on the counter. “I’d offer you some wine, Trey, but as you can see, I’m all out.”
“I’m surprised that you’d come back to this cottage, Tylar.”
“Well, I really had no choice,” I responded.
“That’s not true, Tylar. You know it.”
“I’m not staying with you, Trey, not after the way you accused me of being a whore!” I snapped, my voice rising.
“I never said that,” he argued.
“What do you call asking me about your white shirt, your robe, your razor? I expected you to be pissed about the car; I didn’t expect you to presume I'd brought in some random guy, let him use your razor, wear your clothes, and fuck me in your bed!” I was slurring now, pointing my plastic cup at him accusingly.
Trey grabbed the cup from me and emptied the contents in the sink. Before I had a chance to verbally blast him, he took my arm and pulled me into the living area, planting me firmly beside him on the couch. I started to say something, but his voice cut me off before I got a syllable out.
“You're going to keep your smart mouth shut for now. I'll do the talking,” he said in his control-freak tone.
Whatever.
“I’m not going to beg you to come back and stay at the manor. But the invitation is open. I came by to let you know that I was able to reach Andrew Sneed this week while I was in Atlanta.”
He had my full attention now.
“Tylar your trust has been depleted, and your mother quit the law firm a few weeks ago. Apparently she's also left your home in Radcliffe and no one knows where she went.”
“I don’t understand; that trust was only accessible by me.”
“Sneed says your signature's on the disbursement requests that started while you were still living with your mother. Those were for minimal amounts; the big take was after you arrived here. Sneed has a copy of it with what he maintains is your signature. Also, the fax stamp on the document shows it came from the fax machine in the business office here, with a fax cover sheet that's on our stationary. Sneed had no reason to believe that it wasn't legitimate. Fax and scanned signatures are considered to be as legal as the originals.”
I gasped.
“There’s more,” he continued. I sat frozen, wondering how this could get any worse. “It looks like your mother’s motivation in getting her part-time job at their legal firm was for the purpose of having the trust managed there. She actually started working there prior to the establishment of your trust. It's a private trust; there's no requirement for it to be filed as a public record with any government agency. Before your mom left her job, just after your trust was cleaned out, she either took or destroyed all of the documents pertaining to it, electronic or otherwise."
“Why would she do that?” I asked.
“To destroy the trail back to the trustor, the person who set up the trust.”
“But I know who that is; it’s my dad, her ex-husband.”
“Tylar, I’ve had one of our law clerks digging into some of this. Your mom was never married to anyone.”
“Stop, Trey I cannot listen to any more of this, please!” My voice was cracking, my shoulders shaking. I pulled my knees up tucking them under my chin and burying my face into them.
