Page 73 of The Billionaire Babe

“I don’t understand. How come I didn’t know this? My father surely would have known of my mother’s wishes?” I ask George.

“In the paperwork, it clearly states that if you are not interested in the company, have a different career, provide no value, are married with children and prefer not to be involved in Van Cleef Corp, then the trust fund becomes null and void,” Dennis says, and I let the words sink in.

“My father hid it,” I say, not believing any of this is happening. I wish AJ was here. I feel like I need his steady hold and his thoughts on this.

“Dennis and I have talked about this all morning. We thought that your father wanted to marry you off to get oil money and international expansion opportunities, and maybe that was true, but I suspect that your father really wanted to get you married so that you don’t get the trust fund. If you married William Schmidt and moved to Dubai, then the trust fund would have become void and your father would get full ownership, and Van Cleef Corp would’ve become all his,” George says.

“I can’t believe it. My twenty-sixth birthday is tomorrow,” I say, shocked. I feel a little dizzy and I am glad I am sitting back down. “I think I am going to throw up.” I clutch my stomach. This is too much. A trust fund? My birthday.

“My father obviously knows my birthday is tomorrow…” I say quietly, looking at George.

“That is why he was trying to get you out of the company, trying to get you married. Once he knew you wanted to be more involved, he tried to steer you away from the business, but when you became adamant you wanted more involvement, he was desperate.” I jump up and start to pace.

“So who else knows about this?” I ask George, and he shakes his head.

“No one. Just the three of us.”

“So my father knows he has one more day to get the company?” I ask him, and George nods.

“He is desperate. He will do anything, and today is the last day he has to make a move. After today, the only way he will get the business is if you die, but we can mitigate that threat by adjusting your will,” George says, and a chill runs through me. I don’t believe my father would kill me, but I also didn’t think my father was capable of hurting me like he has.

“So what do we do?” I ask, looking between Dennis and George, because I have no idea of the next steps.

“I will call your lawyer, get a meeting today, and finish updating your will,” George says, and I nod, almost on autopilot, still in shock. “Where’s AJ? We need to plan. We need to pull the board together immediately, and everyone close to you needs to be locked down for their own safety. If your father is as desperate as I think he is, and he can’t get to you, then he will go after someone close to you. Anything to cause you pain and try to get you to come to him,” George says.

“AJ’s gone,” I say quickly, my panic starting to rise. “He went to see his mother today. She needed some help.” George looks at me in horror.

“By himself?” George asks.

“I’ll try to call him.” I feel dread in the pit of my stomach.

“I’ll get the boys up from downstairs. I will also call in the police chief,” George says, already pulling out his cell and dialing numbers.

“I’ll call the board,” Dennis says, and I stare at him for a beat because I know today is the day my life will change. He gives me a small, comforting smile and a nod. “You’ve got this.”

I just need AJ here with me. I need him home and safe.

41

AJ

Being on my bike, riding down the highway, has always been one of my loves. There is something about the freedom I feel, the wind on my face, the graceful way the bike curves around corners, the sun on my skin. But today, I would rather be anywhere else. I took my time riding here, stopping along the way numerous times because I am procrastinating. I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to be anywhere near the trailer park I grew up in. The memories from my childhood still haunt me, and I prefer to push it all to the back of my mind and focus on the present. On Val.

As I slowly pull into the familiar front gates of my childhood home, I look around at the space. It looks like it has gone downhill since I was last here. The grass is long and in need of cutting. A few trailers look like they came off second best in wild weather, and there at the end of the long road, I see my mother’s trailer. Old, but sturdy. A bit like her.

I ride up to the trailer and park the bike, kicking down the stand and turning off the engine, and I am met with eerie silence. Stepping away from the Harley, I put my helmet on the seat and look around. When I pull out my cell, I don’t have service. Another reason this place is so crappy. Some people would find this relaxing, being out here surrounded by forests. But I know the dangers that lurk. I spot the place where Brady’s trailer used to be, long gone now, just a dead patch of grass left behind.

“Mom?” I call out, preferring not to go inside her home. I can’t remember the last time I set foot in there. While I come here to check on her and drop off cash a few times a year, I never go inside. I can’t. I don’t even want to be outside it, but I can’t leave her when she needs me. So here I am. I hear the TV blaring. It’s not unusual, but every time I visit, she is straight out the door, shouting at me about needing money already. Patience is not a trait she holds well.

“Mom!” I bark out, hoping she hears me. Although if she didn’t hear the rumble of my bike, then she is unlikely to hear my voice. I see no people, no cars, no other noise. Something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Mom!” I bang on her trailer door. As I wait for her response, I look around some more. Her neighbors are farther away, the plots next to her now empty. There are no kids playing, which is a good thing, as they should all be at school, but I grew up here, and Brady, Cody, and I always hung out here, so it is weird to see it so deserted.

Anxiety crawls up my spine as frustration nips at my shoulders. I don’t want to waste time. I need to be back in Baltimore. I need to be with Val. The last place I need to be is here, paying off my mother’s drug debts.

“Mom!” I yell again and open the door. I am immediately hit with heat and a musty smell. Looking around, I can see the kitchen from where I stand, and it looks like a dumping ground of rubbish. There’s barely an empty space on the counter.

“Mom?” The place looks like shit and smells like shit. But this is what happens when someone is a user. This is what I grew up in. Takeaway wrappers are on the floor, empty bottles of alcohol nearby. I breathe through my mouth so I don’t smell the neglect of my childhood. I pay her account here at the trailer park every month so she always has a roof, but other than that, I have nothing else I can give her. Until she calls me needing money to pay her drug debt in order to not be physically assaulted. Then I always come.

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