Page 20 of Downfall

“How hard is it to obtain one?”

Patrick shifts in his chair, dropping both his hand and the paper onto the desk. “That also depends.”

“On?”

“Many aspects. The nature of the marriage, the duration. Basically, you have to be able to prove the marriage was not legally valid.

“Can you define ‘legally valid?’”

Patrick uncrosses his legs, hitting me with that same look of concern my father used to give me. The one that made it hard to tell if the worry was for me or for how my problems would affect his reputation. “Skylar, may I ask where this is coming from?”

“Can I plead the Fifth?”

He lets out a nervous chuckle. “We’re not in a courtroom, so it’s not necessary, but of course you don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Okay, maybe he’s not so bad.

Sighing, I look over at the framed picture on my desk, just left of my computer. It’s of the day I graduated from college, a light purple lei around my neck, my mom and stepdad standing next to me, their wide smiles reflecting in the sunshine. I look genuinely happy. It was before my dad asked me to move, before I realized I had a better chance of winning the lottery than getting a job as a journalist. I was still full of a warm, intoxicating hope that took four years to cultivate. Now, here I am right back where I started, entangled in painful memories.

“I accidentally got married,” I decide to tell Patrick because I’m sure he already suspects as much.

“I see.”

“You don’t look as horrified as I feel.”

“Skylar, did your father ever talk to you about the nature of your trust fund?”

“He tried,” I answer honestly. “But I didn’t really want to talk about it. My mom never wanted his money.” She left without a dime when I graduated high school and decided to follow me to California. She rented a little bungalow on the beach, opened up a mobile flower shop, met my stepdad, and started living the life she had always wanted.

“I see..” He adjusts his tie. Clears his throat. “Skylar, part of what I wanted to discuss with you is the stipulations attached to the trust. Originally, you had a trust fund set for your twenty-fifth birthday, provided you met certain requirements. However, upon your father’s death, all his assets, excluding the business he left to his brother, were also placed in a trust for you.”

“I’m not surprised. Everything with my dad usually came with a price tag.”

Patrick winces, clearly uncomfortable with my honesty, but that’s too bad. The truth is sticky sometimes.

He schools his features, bringing his lawyer mask back up. “The thing is, the trust states that you can receive access on your twenty-fifth birthday, provided you are employed full-time and…are married.”

I tilt my head to the side, narrowing my eyes until Patrick is nothing but a blurry gray form. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The trust states—” he continues, no doubt planning to repeat his entire sentence.

“That was a rhetorical question,” I interrupt him.

He pauses, folding his hands in his lap as he awaits my next move.

“Why would he want me to be married?” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but it still pisses me off when he doesn’t answer right away.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually says. “Was that another rhetorical question?”

That’s when it all connects. He didn’t trust me. People don’t call it a “trust fund” for nothing, right? My father didn’t think I could make the right decisions with his millions without someone else helping me make them. A husband. All of his so-called regrets, all of his half-hearted attempts at apologies for making me feel invisible when I was growing up—it all meant nothing because the whole time he was planning for this. Even if he hadn’t died, he wouldn’t have let me see a penny without having a man beside me, preferably a junior CEO who likes the same teams as him.

The lump in my throat grows, suffocating whatever optimism is left. Deep down, I knew the meeting would end poorly, but I still held out hope that my father could have had the tiniest bit of faith in me. It’s not about the money. I never wanted anything monetary from him. I accepted his help getting a job, but that’s where it ended. In retrospect, I shouldn't have even done that. I should have bided my time in California.

I stand up from my chair, willing my voice not to crack. “I think we’re done here, Mr. Ross.”

Patrick is quick to rise from his seat. “Look, Skylar. If we could just discuss the situation further, it sounds like this might be a bit of a silver lining.”

“I’m sure it does, but I don’t want his money, so there’s nothing left to discuss.”