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It’s been three days since I learned the truth. Three days without him. Three days my heart has felt like it’s cracking open a little more with each passing moment.

And knowing I’ve got the means to create a new life for myself should make me happy.

So how come it doesn’t?

For the first time in my life, I think I’m starting to understand what that whole money doesn’t buy happiness thing is about.

I mean, sure, who wouldn’t be happy to learn that there are twenty million new dollars in her bank account?

But it came at a high, high cost. I lost my mother. I lost my father.

I was nothing more than a prize to the man I gave my virginity to. I realize that has nothing to do with the money, but the fact remains, and it’s another thing sullying this moment for me.

I replay my father’s words a dozen different ways a million different times.

Not the words about the trust, though that has replayed, too. Not the part about my mom wanting to change the terms, about everything being in her name so my father’s name couldn’t take that away from us the way my other accounts were seized in his investigation. The trust funds weren’t funded by his illegal activities.

But the part about the shitty people who helped him who aren’t taking the fall.

I can’t help but wonder if Paul is among them. If his lawyer pushed him to build the illegal underground casinos into what they eventually became. If there was some other mastermind behind it all.

If that’s why he didn’t take the plea deal—if he thought some of that would come out during the trial in hopes that he’d get a reduced sentence.

But it didn’t, and we find out tomorrow what that sentencing will be.

He said he did it all for the family, but I still don’t understand why he hurt us and incriminated us along the way. There has to be some explanation, but I’m not sure I’ll ever actually get it—maybe not at least until Dad serves his sentence and is released and can tell us more.

I finally get up the nerve to call Paul, whose number I’ve had probably since I got my first phone, since he’s part of the family and the person I was supposed to call if I was ever in trouble, and he answers right away.

“Ivy. I’ve been expecting your call.”

“Hi, Mr. Rawlings. I spoke with my father today.”

“Then you know about the trust fund,” he says.

“I do. My father said you’d be able to tell me how to access it.”

“Yes, the amendment is complete, and I have paperwork for you to sign. I’ll email you a packet for identity verification as well as the timeline for transfer, and I’m happy to handle all the details for you unless you have a financial advisor you’d like to loop in.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Rawlings. My financial advisor is the family one. Can you send me a list of others you’d recommend?” I realize as I ask the question that I’m not entirely sure I can trust him given that he had to have known all about what my father was doing.

He had to.

He’s been our family lawyer for years, and he and Dad were very close friends.

He can send me that list of contacts, but I have a feeling I’ll likely use someone one of my siblings recommends instead.

“Absolutely, Ms. Bradley. Anything else I can assist with?”

“Oh, um, actually, yes. I sort of got married in Vegas at the beginning of August, and it was all just a big, drunken mistake. I’m wondering if you can help me get out of it. I signed a postnup to protect us both, and we had agreed to stay married for a year, but I’d like to end it now.”

“Of course, Ms. Bradley. If you can send over the postnup, I’ll take a look and see what our options are. I’ll be in touch via email with any questions I have.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll talk to you soon.” I hang up, and I forward him the contract that’s still in my inbox.

I head back toward Everleigh’s place, and the second I walk in, she leaps up and rushes toward me, pulling me into a hug.

“Oh my God, Ivy Simone, I was worried sick about you! Where have you been?”