Page 25 of Attorney Privilege
Reaching over to the coffee table, I open the manilla folder and hand her the contents.
“What is this?” She looks at the stack of papers, no doubt confused to see her name across the top of it.
“It’s a choice, Emerson. If you want it,” I say and turn the first page. “This is a deed to a house in only your name. It comes with a lot of land so you can garden to your heart's content.” I turn to the next section. “Along with a living trust set up in only your name to manage it, with enough money to take care of you for the rest of your life.”
“Gideon,” she whispers my name as her eyes widen. “I can’t accept?—”
“There’s nothing to accept. I had Spencer draw up the documents yesterday. It’s done.” Her hands are shaking as she turns the pages of the contract. “Think of it as a wedding gift.”
She doesn’t smile at my joke as a single tear slips down her cheek.
“You’re free, Emerson. Free to live your life how and for who you want. I hope that one day it includes me, but this isn’t contingent on that. This is yours, signed, sealed, free and clear.”
“This is too much, I can’t take all of your money.” Her eyes search mine as I smile at her.
“Well, luckily, I’ve got plenty more.” I stand from the couch, and a look of confusion crosses her face.
“You’re leaving?”
Bending down, I press a kiss to her lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll be close by.” Walking to the door, I grab the handle and look back at her. “I love you, Emerson. No matter what happens next.”
As soon as I pull the door open, Emerson’s mother nearly falls through. I wink at her as I stroll out, and she’s so angry all she can do is huff and puff.
Deciding to give myself a little insurance, I take out my phone and make a quick call.
“Hey, Taylor. Do you still have that contact at TMZ?”
Chapter Fifteen
EMERSON
My mother is talking a mile a minute, but I’m not listening to anything she has to say. He loves me. Not only that, it's a love without conditions. Gideon has gifted me freedom, but I don’t want it. All I want is him. I can still feel him all over my body. He’s a part of me now, and I can’t ever let that go.
"Emerson, what is the matter with you?" Mother snaps her fingers in front of my face. "You're always such a dimwitted girl. At least now you're Conner's problem." She mutters the last part under her breath.
"Is that what I am, Mother? A problem?" That’s all I have ever been to her. I don’t understand why she bothered to have me. If my mother has taught me anything, it’s how to not be a shit parent like her.
"Don't start." She attempts to touch the corner of my dress, probably intending to fix it, but I swat her hand away. I don’t want anyone but Gideon touching it. The expression of surprise that takes over her face is comical.
"Don’t start?" I stand up straighter. “Oh, I’m about to.”
"Watch it," Mother warns, but I'm not having it.
"No," I say with defiance.
She lifts her hand, intending to smack me again, but I catch her forearm. I was ready for it this time. I shove her arm back, throwing her away from me in the process. She stumbles back a few steps. Her heels make her wobble, but she manages to stay on her feet.
"You don’t get to touch me ever again.” Now it's my turn to give the warning.
"Who the hell do you think you are, Emerson? Without us you have nothing. You'll marry Conner or sleep on the streets."
"I'm not marrying him." I knew that this morning when I put on the dress. This dress was always meant for Gideon. There was no way I could wear it for another man. Even though my decision was already made, I wasn't sure how I was going to be able to stand on my own two feet. All I knew was that I was going to figure it out.
“You will marry him.” Mother points one of her perfectly manicured fingers at me, but she doesn’t come closer. There is a slight shake to her hand as she realizes I’m not going along with her orders.
“No,” I say again, and each time it comes out with more confidence. She’s lost her power over me because I’m no longer scared of her. If anyone should be scared, it’s her. I have nothing to lose now, and she has nothing to hold over me.
I could give a shit less about my reputation. I would love to tell people who the real Vivian and Malcom Brown are. They aren’t pillars of this community, and my mother is no philanthropist. She pretends to be, but it’s all for show. All of her is.
