Thirty Nights (American Beauty #1)(123)

I ask Reagan to drive back to Portland. She steps on the gas as for a NASCAR audition.

We park the MINI in a nonparking spot and sprint into Bob’s office. He waits with my papers ready. When he sees me, he freezes. I tell him everything—even Javier’s name, clutching Reagan’s hand, attorney-client privilege be damned.

Bob blinks, gapes and shakes his head. “This couldn’t have been Mr. Hale. Why would he go through the trouble of finding a witness if he was planning this?”

But I figured out some things in the car. “What if this witness doesn’t really exist? Odd, isn’t it, that he appears right as Javier is caught?”

“The witness exists. I checked with the DOJ.”

“But what if Aiden himself is the witness?”

Bob’s eyes widen.

“Yeah,” Reagan whispers. “It makes sense. Maybe he killed three birds with one stone. If Javier got caught, there would no longer be a need to protect him. Isa wouldn’t have to choose between helping herself or her family. And with Aiden testifying, the DOJ would get the truth. They wouldn’t need to talk to Isa. She’d never have to lie for Javier or even tell them about her modeling work. Aiden was trying to save her!”

Every word sounds like Aiden. Except none of it makes a difference.

“He still destroyed my family, Reg.” I choke back a heaving sob.

Bob shakes his head. “I don’t believe it. It would have hurt you too much. Why would he want you to hate him?”

I swallow because Bob doesn’t know the truth. Nor does Reagan. Aiden had every reason to want me to hate him. Every reason to want me to leave him.

But I can’t tell them that.

“How can I help Javier, Bob? Please!”

“Elisa, I can’t represent him because you’re my client and that’s a conflict of interest. But Benetto is top-notch. He doesn’t take a lot of pro bono cases so something must have moved him.”

“What are his chances? The truth please.”

Bob takes my hand. “Not great, my dear. The argument for undue hardship on the family is common but it rarely wins. There are compelling circumstances here, but his family needs to be prepared.”

My dad’s watch ticks 3:45 p.m. “Elisa, you should sign so we can send it off before FedEx gets here,” Bob says gently.

I look at the papers in front of me. My American dream. But what makes a dream, a dream? For me, it was a new life free of ghosts. I won’t have that here anymore. Javier and Aiden will haunt me. I can’t see Javier. And in the off chance that he is allowed to stay, he wouldn’t fill Aiden’s void or undo his betrayal. If I will be haunted anyway, there is only one place for me. It has waited—they have waited—for me to face it for four years.

And I can save six lives. Without Javier, four girls may become wards of the state with an aging mother, an ill father and no brother. Even with Javier, they’re still in peril with Antonio paralyzed and no income from Feign. It’s fitting that my first family—Dad’s invention—should save my second.

“I’m sorry, Bob. I cannot sign. Please put the million dollars in trust for Maria and Antonio Solis, with Javier, Isabel, Isadora, Daniela and Anamelia Solis as beneficiaries if Maria and Antonio pass away. Javier Solis is the administrator, effective immediately.”

Reagan starts sobbing. “Isa, no! Bob, tell her! Tell her she can’t do this!”

A tear leaves Bob’s eye. “Legally, she can. But Elisa, you’re destroying your dream.”

“One dream above seven is too high a price.”

He watches me for a long time. “May I give you some advice?”

I nod.

“It’s wise to make the parents, not the girls, the beneficiaries because the hardship must be to the U.S. citizens for Javier to win. If the girls have the money, he has no prayer. It’s also smart to make Javier the administrator because he has an extra duty that would require him to stay here. I suspect that’s why you suggested it. But it’s not wise to release the funds now.”

“Why not?”

“Because if they have a million dollars before the hearing, Javier will never win.”

I rage at the impossible choice. Destroy a family to save one, or destroy one to save them all.

“But, there’s a legal solution. I’ll hold the funds in your trust account until Javier’s hearing on June fifteenth. You’ll be gone by then. I’ll release the money that day no matter what happens. But it’s imperative that none of them knows about this.”

“Why not?”

“Because if ICE finds them and they have to testify that they’ll suffer hardship without Javier, they’d be lying under oath if they knew your sacrifice. No one will know what you did here today until you’re gone.”

“I don’t care about that if it helps them.”

“One million dollars will help them. But you should take some of the money to see you through the transition.”

I think this through. I want none of it but how am I going to get home? I can’t borrow from Reagan. The ticket alone will be about $2,000.

“I’ll take ten thousand, as much in cash as possible.”

Bob nods and goes to speak to his accounting manager. Reagan and I hold each other while we wait.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye to you,” Reagan sniffles.