The Trapped Girl (Tracy Crosswhite #4)(24)

“Perhaps you could provide a letter from the law firm confirming that?”

“Certainly,” Graham said.

Maybe it was my nerves, but I suddenly felt compelled to mention my parents’ trust, though its terms would not allow me to use it as collateral.

Graham went white as a sheet. I swear I could hear the thud of his jaw hitting the desk. He leaned forward, though there was no way the banker could not overhear our conversation.

“You have a trust?” he said.

I glanced at the banker. He sat with the uncomfortable smile of a man who’d walked in on an argument and was trying to find an inconspicuous way to exit. He made an excuse about having to find some other form, and left his desk.

“What are you talking about?” Graham asked.

“When my parents died, their estate was left for me in trust. I gained limited access to it when I turned twenty-one.”

Graham stared at me with a look of disbelief, then glanced over his shoulder to be sure the banker was out of earshot. He leaned even closer, his jaw taut and his voice hushed. “Jesus H. Christ, Andrea. When did you plan on telling me about this?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” I said.

“Not relevant?” He cleared his throat and sat back, lips pursed. “What are we doing here?” He asked the question in that patronizing voice I hated, like I was a child. “We’re borrowing money that we’re going to be paying interest on because I thought we needed it.”

“We do need it.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “How much is the trust?”

“It’s not important, Graham.”

He scoffed. “Not important? I’m your husband. What other secrets have you been keeping from me?”

“What? I’m not keeping . . . No, that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean? Because it sure sounds like you’ve been keeping a very big secret from me.”

“I mean it’s not relevant because we can’t use the trust. We can’t use the money.”

“You mean you won’t use it.”

“No, I mean we can’t.”

His cheeks flushed red and his blue eyes became more a shade of gray. “Why the hell not?”

“Because of the way my parents had the trust set up. It’s designated as my separate property and has restrictions on how it can be used. It can’t be invested in a business. It’s just for my well-being.”

“Your parents are dead,” he said, emphasizing each word.

“I’m aware of that, Graham, but the terms of the trust still remain in place. When I turned twenty-one I had full say in the use of the interest, but there are restrictions on the principal until I turn thirty-five. My parents set it up that way so I would always be taken care of.”

In truth, I knew my parents well enough to know they’d set it up that way so no one could ever take advantage of me, marry me believing they would get half the money, or take it from me in a divorce.

“So it’s yours and yours alone?” Graham said.

“Technically, yes.”

“What does that mean, ‘technically’?”

“It means, what do you think I’ve been using to help make ends meet each month when we didn’t have enough money to pay the rent or the lease on the Porsche and the other expenses? I’ve been using the interest money I get from the trust.”

“Oh, so you’re saying, what? I’m some kind of sponge?”

“No, I’m not saying that.” I wanted to scream.

“How much is the trust?”

I didn’t want to answer.

His jaw clenched. “How much, Andrea?”

“The principal is half a million dollars.”

Graham scoffed and laughed at once. It sounded almost like a man choking. “Are you kidding me? You’re sitting on half a million dollars? What the hell are we doing here?”

“I told you, I can’t use it—”

“Andrea, I’m a lawyer. Every contract can be broken and a trust is basically a contract.”

“Not this one,” I said. “My trustee said my parents had it put together so that it can’t be broken.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you let me worry about that? Can you get the money?”

“It can’t be done, Graham.”

“Can you get it?”

“I can get it, but I can’t use it for this type of stuff. So I say we end the lease on the Porsche, apply that money to your credit card debt, and get our loan as we’d intended.”

Graham bit his lower lip and rolled his eyes. “You want me to give up my Porsche? I’m a lawyer, Andrea. I have to maintain a certain image.”

“But you won’t be a lawyer anymore.”

Thankfully, the banker cleared his throat when he came back to his desk. “Are we set to move forward?” he asked.

Graham still looked angry but he smiled as if nothing was wrong. “Of course,” he said. “Let’s get this ball rolling.”

Graham remained upset for the next two days. He traded in his Porsche and we applied the lease payment to his credit card bill. I also chipped in another $2,000. “I intend to pay you back,” he said. I wasn’t holding my breath. Nor did I really care. I’d never cared about money. I’d gotten by with virtually nothing my entire life, and now it seemed money just created problems.