Betrayal (Infidelity Book 1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,57

Adelaide’s red-rimmed eyes met mine that I knew there was more to their current charade. She didn’t speak, but sighed, bit her lip, and turned toward the window.

“Alexandria,” Alton said, “have a seat. We need to speak to you about our meeting tomorrow morning.”

I sat, but spoke to Adelaide. “Momma, what’s the matter?”

“I just can’t… I can’t…”

Alton stood taller by her side. “Your mother has been upset since our office discussion yesterday.”

I moved to the edge of the chair. “It’s fine,” I placated, like the good daughter I’d been taught to be.

Tears coated my mother’s cheeks as she reached for Alton’s hand.

“Momma, are you sick?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Alexandria, if only you would have tried.”

“Tried? What are you talking about?”

Her chin dropped to her chest. “The meeting tomorrow is to update you on your trust fund.”

“I thought it might be, but why are you so upset. If I get it early, I won’t do—”

“You’re not getting it early,” Alton said. “You no longer have access to it. It’s gone.”

“GONE? I DON’T understand. How is a million dollars gone?” I stood, unable to contain my fury.

“You’ve lived on it for four years,” Alton said. “Stanford isn’t inexpensive. I guarantee it wasn’t a million any longer.”

“I review the online statements every month. It was not gone the last time I looked.”

“It’s been re-appropriated.” His tone slowed. “Before you decide to make any more threats, I assure you, it’s completely legal and within the guidelines of the clauses set forth by your grandparents.”

“Darling,” Mother interjected. “I didn’t want you to be blindsided at the attorney’s office like you were yesterday with Bryce. That was my fault. I should’ve talked to you about Bryce earlier in the day, but we were having such a nice time.” She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

I didn’t give a rat’s ass about Bryce. I did about my trust fund.

“Columbia?” I asked collapsing on one of the many sofas.

“That’s what we were saying yesterday. You don’t have the funds to attend Columbia.”

“Your first semester is paid,” Alton interjected. “You’ll need to transfer, or you could withdraw and receive a refund. It’s time you stop wasting money and concentrate on the future.”

I palmed my temples and pushed. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. The future? Law school was my future.

“Dear, are you all right?”

“No, Mother, I’m not. I’m not all right. I was accepted into Columbia Law. Do you have any idea how difficult that is? No, you don’t. You don’t because as soon as you finished your degree—in art appreciation—at Emory—you married my father. You didn’t apply to graduate school. And you…” I stared at Alton. “…your master’s is from Georgia State!”

“I don’t need to defend my degree to you or to anyone else,” Alton said, the crimson creeping up his neck. “The difference is that I use my degree. You need to face the fact. It’s time to move home, stop playing student, and get married.”

“This isn’t 1920, 1950, or even 1980! I don’t need to marry.”

“Dear, calm down.”

I blinked my eyes hoping that if I did it enough times the scene in front of me would change. “I’m not saying I’ll never marry. I’m saying I’m only twenty-three years old.”

“You’ll be twenty-four soon enough, and weddings take time. To really do it right, we’ll need at least a year to plan.” Mother lowered her voice. “We don’t want people thinking you had to get married.”

My head began to twitch. The world was jumpy, like an old television that had difficulty keeping a signal. “You are saying I have to get married. It may not be because of pregnancy, but what you’re discussing is a shotgun wedding nevertheless.”

“No one is putting a gun to your head. Stop being so dramatic,” Alton said dismissively as he stood and refilled his tumbler of Cognac.

I stood with a huff and paced back and forth in front of the large windows, my palms clenching and unclenching. Finally, I turned. “You said clauses. What clauses?”

“We can discuss that tomorrow.”

“No, we can discuss it today.”

Raising his chin, Alton’s eyes closed. “Hmm. I don’t have the wording memorized exactly, but there’s a clause about education. Undergraduate is specifically mentioned. Thankfully, Ralph was reviewing the document and found it.”

Thankfully?

“So you’re saying that it was intended to pay for my undergraduate degree, but not postgraduate? And you’re telling me after my first semester has been paid?”

“It was an oversight, dear.” She looked to Alton and back to me. “We discussed it at some length.