Page 149 of When Fate Breaks
“Just open it, Blake,” my mom pleads.
I stand back up straight, turning the envelope over and pulling out the single sheet of paper inside. I become even more confused as the paper looks to be some sort of legal document with my name at the top and lots of numbers covering it. I scan the paper once and then do a double take when I see the wordsCurrent Balance, my mouth falling open.
My name.
With lots of numbers.
Lots of zeros.
Next to my name.
“Mom, wh–what is this?” I croak, my throat dry.
Her lips pull into a smile, her eyes shining. “Your Dad may never have won the jackpot planning the lottery, but he won some. A few correct numbers here, a bonus prize there. Over time, with him playing every single week for over two decades, it all added up.” She taps the edge of the paper I’m white-knuckling in my hands. “He invested every penny of it and never touched it, letting it gain interest and continue to grow.” She drags her finger down the paper, stopping at the current balance, and then pointing to where it says my name. “He invested it all. In your name.”
The air feels like it leaves my lungs all at once and I have to place a hand on the desk for support. I’ve never seen this much money in my life.Hell, I never thought I’d see this amount of money throughout therestof my life.
Everyone poked fun at Dad for playing the lottery every week, myself included.Kyle Di Fazio: financial advisor with a gambling addiction.It never made sense, but I just learned to accept it. It was one of his many quirks. One of the many ways heran towards life. It never made sense, but it does now. It makes so much sense.
“This–” I stammer. “This is really mine?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“It is,” Mom smiles. “He always said we’d just know when it was the right time to give it to you. I–I wish that he was here to see that it’s the right time for himself,” she sniffles. “But it doesn’t matter. I know he’d agree. You’re ready. You’ve earned it.”
My jaw clenches, looking down at the paper again. I’ve read the number over and over, but it still doesn’t seem real. I don’t think it ever will. I silently curse myself for ever being angry with my father. For ever thinking he was even remotely selfish or cared for anything in the world more than he cared for me and my mom.
“Mom, I can’t. You should take this–”
“I have all I could ever need, Blake,” she cuts me off. “It’s yours. He wanted you to have it.Wewanted you to have it.”
I swallow against the tightness of my throat, staring once more at the glaring number. “What do I do with it?” I whisper.
“Whatever you want,” Mom says. “Spend it. Save it. Invest it elsewhere. Let it keep growing. Buy a house with it. Donate it. Travel the world with it. But if you ask me,” she pauses, taking a step forward and folding the paper in my hands so that I’m forced to look at her, “I’d start with building that girl a new greenhouse.”
I roll my lips into my mouth, suppressing a smile. “She really loved that greenhouse,” I nod.
“But not nearly as much as she loves you,” Mom says, winking at me. “Now, go get her,” she says, shooing me. “You two have a lot of time to make up for.”
I chuckle as I follow her orders, heading for the door. I pause when I reach it, however, turning back to face my mom. “Thank you,” I say. “He’d be proud of you too, Mom.”
I let the door fall shut, my smiling and teary-eyed mom fading from view as I head back down the hallway. I fold the paper up, shoving it into my back pocket, smiling the whole way to the foyer. The smile instantly falls, however, when I reach the foyer and find it empty.
No Evangeline to be found.
My heart slams painfully against my chest, my stomach twisting. I start to make a run for the front door when a voice stops me.
“Hey, up here.”
My shoulders instantly relax at the sound of her voice. I drop my head, shaking it with a chuckle, catching my breath. I turn around to see Evangeline at the top of the stairs, poking her head out from around the corner.
“You okay?” she asks me as I reach the top of the steps.
“Yeah, fine,” I say, accepting her outstretched hand and following her to my childhood bedroom, another room that’s remained exactly the same.
She raises one brow at me as we enter, clearly not believing me.
“I, uh, just,” I stammer. “I didn’t see you.”
Realization hits her, and she tilts her head. “You thought you could get rid of me that easily, Di Fazio?”
