Page 85 of Until You (Forgive Me)

Isabella’s heart sank. She knew her trust fund was substantial, but she’d been so devastated after her father’s death she’d not really paid much attention. When Pierce and Danielle had denied her access, she had ignored it. Deciding to forge her own way,

“Lady Ringwood, sorry, Isabella,” Randolph stuttered. “Am I correct in assuming from what Mr Grant has told us, you have requested no funds from your trust fund over the years since your father’s death?”

“That’s right,” Isabella said. “I’ve been living off the inheritance I received after my mother’s death. That was substantial and more than I needed.”

Isabella had received ten million from her mother’s estate on her death. Her father had invested it for her. By the time Isabella left home, it had been a very substantial pot of money, more than enough for her to live on over the years. It was how she’d managed to pack up and leave without a backwards glance.

“We have a problem then.” Randolph sighed. “There have been multiple withdrawals by trustees, supposedly in your name.”

“Who?” Toby asked, his expression doing little to hide his displeasure.

Isabella could almost feel the rage oozing out of him.

Every face on the other side of the table blanched, “The trustee signatures belong to Mr Pierce Lebroc and Mr Carl Danvers.”

“Who’s Carl Danvers?” Toby asked, flicking through the paperwork in front of him before his eyes shot to Randolph’s. “He was yours?”

Randolph blanched, his eyes dropping to the table. “Carl Danvers was the solicitor put in charge of the trust fund on our behalf.”

“Where is he now?” Toby asked. “Why isn’t he in this meeting?”

“He was disbarred six months ago for unethical conduct. He’s moved abroad.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “We assumed it was unrelated, but maybe we overlooked this. We assumed Mr Lebroc and Mrs King... it requires two signatures to access the funds.”

Isabella watched as a stony mask of professionalism descended over Tobias. This was the lawyer Mr Gough had heard about.

“We will see you in court,” Toby said, gathering up the papers in front of him.

“Excuse me, gentleman,” Isabella said, resting a hand on Toby’s arm as he went to stand. “Can I have a word with Mr. Grant alone?”

Toby shot her a questioning look but sat back down, his eyes cold as he stared across the table.

Randolph and the others got up and left the room. You could almost hear their collective sigh of relief as they exited. Isabella could not blame them. The atmosphere was thick with tension. She needed a moment. If they left now and this went to court, the media frenzy that followed would shoot her back into the stratosphere.

Adrenaline flooded her system. The fear of losing her freedom again to the press was worse than the missing money she’d lived without for the past seven years.

Yes, the money was hers. Her father had worked hard for it and left it to her, but the thought of the media circus, the missing millions, was going to fuel, made her want to empty her breakfast into the waste bin in the corner.

When the men had left, Isabella stood up and walked to the window. She needed to move. Breathing deeply, she calmed her racing heart as she stared out over the city below. Once the tingling in her chest had passed, she turned and faced Toby, who was sitting patiently, waiting for her to speak.

“There can be no court case,” Isabella said.

Toby opened his mouth, but Isabella held up her hand. “We have to find another way.”

She walked towards the table and rested her hands on the wood, her head dropping, the stretch on her neck comforting.

“Pierce will not get away with this,” she said, raising her head and staring directly at Toby, letting him know she meant it. “However, the thought of having the press shadowing my every move again, my personal life on show. I cannot go through that again.”

Toby nodded, tapping his pen on the table, the motion helping him process his thoughts. “Okay. We’ll look to see if there’s another way. The choice is yours. I can only advise you.” He looked up, his eyes locking with hers, a twinkle appearing. “I’m not sure Christian will agree, but I’ll leave you to talk to him.”

Isabella moved back around the table, making sure those outside the room could not see her expression. “Let me handle Christian. He’ll support me,” she said, knowing those words to be true.

“I’ve no doubt... It’s interesting to see this side of Christian Dupree. I’m just saying he’ll want blood,” Toby added.

“That has to be the last resort. Pierce was my father’s best friend and business partner. He was like an uncle to me. I want to find out why. What if we’re missing something?”

“You’re taking this remarkably well. He’s stolen one hundred and fifty million from your trust fund. That’s no small amount,” Toby said to her, as if trying to get the response out of her he was expecting.

Isabella knew no one could understand. She was a lady, a multi-millionaire, even without her father’s money. What Toby was missing were the sights she’d seen as she travelled the world. The poverty people lived in, but the happy and fulfilled lives they lived. Over the past seven years, she’d seen and learned that there was so much more to life than money. She donated so much of hers every year to local charities. Instead, choosing to live on her wages from The Retreat. Her life was rich and full. Her father had accrued an obscene amount of wealth. He’d worked hard, yes, devoted his life to his company, but at the end of the day, when the car had spun out of control and hit him, all the money in the world could not save him.

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