Page 2 of Because I Need You
I shook both their hands.
“We’re only here to help and facilitate, answer any questions you may have, and make this as easy and painless as possible,” Dave said, while Parker smiled.
“Help and facilitate what exactly?” I asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs they signaled at.
“Your father’s trust, reading his will, signing a lot of papers. Things like that,” Parker said.
“I can’t imagine what he would have left. My father painted houses for a living.”
“Let’s begin.” Dave cleared his throat, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
Within the first three minutes, I was told the large sum my father left me. Within ten, I was told about his properties. In the thirty minutes that followed, I was given more papers to look through. I took my time with each one of them, knowing I’d have to either have William do me the favor of looking through them, or hire my own lawyer. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my father’s lawyers, but I’d seen the way Will conducted business and he always had his own at his beck and call, which made me think I should do the same, just in case. It was just too much for me to wrap my head around, let alone understand. He had property everywhere, it seemed. Not just homes, but warehouses, as well. Chicago, New Jersey, Rhode Island, Brooklyn, Miami. I took a deep breath and kept looking at the rest of the papers, pausing when I got to the marriage license. He’d been married? That was news to me. I looked up at Dave, who was chewing on the edge of his pen. Parker stood and excused herself.
“My dad was married?” I asked, confused.
“And divorced. We have those papers as well.”
“Oh.” The marriage license stated he’d been married to a woman whose name I didn’t recognize before I was born. I looked at the divorce date. I would’ve been twelve years old, then. He’d been married to someone I’d never even heard of for twenty-years? My frown deepened. I glanced up again. “This doesn’t make any sense. Was this like, an agreement for a green card or something?”
“No.” Dave shook his head. “This was his actual wife. He was with your mother…you know. I’m sorry.”
My jaw dropped. I looked back at the marriage license and divorce. My mother had been his mistress? That made me, what, his love child? I whispered those words aloud, feeling fresh tears prick my eyes. I swallowed them back. My childhood had been a mess, to say the least, with the back and forth between my parents’ on and off relationship and the moving, but my mother and grandmother made it work for a while. We got to New York when I was fourteen, and I’d been instantly thrust into a fancy state-of-the-art school, rubbing elbows with celebrity kids and politician’s kids. It was where I met Will during our senior year. We weren’t high school sweethearts, though. We weren’t anything until we reconnected a year ago at a teacher luncheon he’d hosted. I’d continuously asked my mother once how we could afford that school, and she’d yelled to stop asking questions and be grateful I could attend — period. So, I didn’t ask any more questions. If I was a love child, surely, my grandmother, who I was with most of the time, would’ve slipped up and told me, especially during one of her rants about how I should’ve never been born. You’d think she would’ve thrown it into those jabs, at least.
I racked my brain for any clues, but there was nothing. My parents were cordial when they saw each other. My mother never had anything bad to say about my father and vice versa. Mom was always busy working and dating, anyway. That didn’t leave much room for conversation about their relationship. I knew they’d never married, but never in a million years would I have thought I was the product of an affair. Knowing that made me feel dirty. I kept staring at the dates, kept wishing my math was all wrong, but it was clear as day. He’d lied to me. My entire life, he’d lied to me. The only person I trusted, the only person who loved me unconditionally, and he’d been lying to me my entire life.
“Did he have any other kids?” I asked, voice shaky.
“One,” Dave said. My eyes snapped to his. “A son. He passed away a few years ago.”
“Passed away?” I whispered. I had a brother I’d never met and would never meet.
“He was involved in questionable things,” Dave explained.
My brows hiked up. Questionable things? That could mean anything. I glanced at the papers on the table. This could literally mean anything.
“What was his name?” I licked my lips. “My brother, I mean. Half-brother. Whatever.”
“Vincent Bonetti.”
“Vincent.”
“Look, Isabel,” Dave started as I continued to stare at the stack of papers that knew more about my father’s life than I ever did, ever would. “I know this is difficult, but we haven’t even hit the tip of the iceberg, so if you want to take a break to process this part and come back tomorrow, please, by all means.”
