Chapter 23
Margaret’s lawyer’s office is old and opulent.
Glossy dark wood, old-fashioned drapes, and wood flooring that creaks everywhere I step.
There is even a pair of stuffed mallard ducks propped up on the ledge of the fireplace.
The entire building makes me feel like I’ve stepped straight back into the house on Rossmill Lane that I lived in for so many years.
The place where I was invisible and unloved.
But I’m not the same person I was when I lived in that house.
So much about me has changed. That’s exactly why I refused to have Gareth’s lawyer come with me today like he adamantly insisted.
I’m spreading my wings and learning how to fly on my own at last. I may still be at the mercy of Sophia’s father for as long as he’s in her life, but that’s only ten percent of the time.
The other ninety percent, she can be with me.
Somehow, those duckies feel like a joke from Margaret beyond the grave, and I can’t help but smile. I suppose that’s the beauty of truly enjoying your life. The little things don’t bother you like they once did.
Margaret’s lawyer, Harry Morrison, is a tall, wiry man with black hair plugs and wearing a suit that costs every bit of five thousand pounds. He spreads out a few papers on his desk and finally looks at me and Callum seated in the wing chairs on the other side of his desk.
“Thank you both for being here today,” he huffs in his posh British accent. “I have some business I need to go over with you in regard to the Margaret Coleridge Estate and her will that was left in my care.”
Callum smiles knowingly, sitting back in his chair and femininely crossing his legs. “Good to see you again, Harry. Before we get started, can you please tell me why my ex-wife needs to be here for this?”
Harry gives Callum a forced smile. “Well, she is stated in your mother’s will as a beneficiary.”
“What?” Callum exclaims, nearly spitting when he huffs out an incredulous laugh.
“It’s all explained in these letters from Margaret, which she asked me to serve to you today instead of delivering a normal reading of her will.”
Harry picks up two sealed envelopes, handing me the one with my name on it and the other to Cal.
Without pause, Callum rips his open and unfolds the paper. “This has to be a joke. Mother wouldn’t do this.”
With a curious frown, I slowly open mine to see what all the fuss is about.
Dear Sloan,
I have set aside a large trust fund for Sophia, as well as given her the Lake District estate and all the acreage that surrounds it. This home is where I have experienced the utmost joy with her. We have a lot of fond memories there, and I want her to continue enjoying it as much as she’d like.
As I’m sure you are aware, the home and trust fund are worth a large sum of money. Because of Sophia’s age, I am listing you as the executor of her estate until she is twenty-five years old. At that time, the trust fund, home, and property will go to her.
This fact will likely not go over well with my son, but I have many reasons for putting you in charge of this. I’m not inclined to inform you of them all, but I will oblige you to some.
I want Sophia’s education and dreams to be infinite. That special little girl is full of imagination, hopes, and ideas. I trust that you are best suited to guide her in her quest to follow those dreams, wherever they may lead.
The other significant thing I need you to know is that I’ve also set aside a lump sum inheritance for you. This is not charity. This is what you are due.
When I first met you in America and my son told me of your unplanned pregnancy together, I was appalled.
I thought your modest upbringing meant that you were after my son’s wealth and were using this child as a form of entrapment.
It is why I asked you to sign that horrible prenuptial agreement before I agreed to let you two marry.
I’ve now realised that I was wrong—an adjective that does not sit well with me. Therefore, Harry will have you sign some paperwork, then give you a cheque. This is the appropriate amount of money a woman who marries a man like my son should receive in a divorce.
This money will give you authority. It will give you control. It will give you freedom. And please always remember that the woman who holds the purse strings, holds the power.
Sincerely,
Margaret Coleridge
When I look up, the lawyer has a second envelope for me and another for Callum.
Cal rips his open and stands up, nearly kicking his chair over as he does. “This is ludicrous! My mother was not of sound mind when she signed off on this. She couldn’t have possibly been!”
“Callum,” Harry interrupts, stopping my pacing ex-husband in his tracks. “I assure you, Margaret was of very sound mind.”
The veins in Callum’s neck protrude angrily. “How could she possibly have these feelings about me? I’m her only son.”
I look down and tear open my second envelope. The moment my eyes focus on the number of zeroes, I begin to have my own internal fit. Although, I’m guessing our reactions are for very different reasons.
Harry turns to hand me Sophia’s envelope next. A bit thicker since it’s a trust and not only a cheque.
I can barely see straight let alone open hers, so Harry takes pity on me and calmly states, “It’s even more than yours.”
My head is shaking back and forth, but my eyes are trained on Harry. “This has to be a mistake.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” Callum barks, splaying his hands out on the mahogany desk and leaning over Harry.
Harry’s demeanour is completely composed when he replies slowly, “It’s not a mistake.”
“How much did she get?” Callum asks, moving over to peek at the cheque that’s already folded back up inside the envelope. “Sloan, please tell me how much you and Sophia received.”
Harry quickly interjects. “Ms. Montgomery, I advise you to not say a word at this time. This is a lot of information you need to digest.”
I nod thoughtfully and look up at Callum.
A light sheen of sweat has broken out on his forehead, and I can’t help but puzzle over how things changed so drastically between him and his mother.
It wasn’t long ago that they were a united front, intimidating me into split custody. Now, it seems Margaret is on my side.
“So, what now?” I ask, my throat constricted as I turn my gaze back to Harry.
Harry opens a large manila file. “I have some paperwork for you to sign and that’s it.
I can recommend a good financial advisor to you as well, or I will transfer the details over to whomever you’d like.
I do suggest you speak with someone about how to best handle this amount, Ms. Montgomery. It’s important.”
I swallow slowly, taking in his advice as Callum drops back on the edge of his chair. “So she gets the family fortune and I get the dilapidated house on Rossmill Lane? This isn’t right, Harry! The Lake District is a family estate! Sloan’s not even a Coleridge. She never took my legal name.”
Harry slides a stiff glance to Callum, who looks like he’s going to stroke out at any moment. “I’m afraid this is what it is.”
I swear I see a twinkle in the lawyer’s eyes as he points to all the places I need to sign and hands me the keys to the Lake District estate.
Harry dismisses me, but before I walk out, I turn around and ask, “What about Rex, the dog?”
“Oh! I almost forgot. Mrs. Coleridge bequeathed Rex to Sophia. He is currently living with the groundskeeper in the home on the backside of the property. Rex can stay there, or Sophia can take him with her. It’s entirely up to you.”
I smile. “Please call and let him know that I am coming to get Rex now.”
Harry smiles and nods. “Very well.”
“Thank you for your time,” I reply.
Without another word, I leave his office, my entire world completely transformed in front of a couple of mallards.
When the buzzer sounds off, I hop out of the ice bath.
I wrap a towel around myself, hunching over and trying to stop my body’s trembling while wiping away the horrifyingly cold liquid dripping off of me.
Bloody ice baths are medieval torture. But the older I get, the more I need them.
I used to be like the younger players, training for hours a day and going out the same night without a second thought. Not anymore.
Now, I can barely make it to nine o’clock at night before falling asleep. Luckily, the routine at Sloan’s house has been an easy one to fall in to since Sophia’s around a lot more. Sometimes we go to bed when she does and, bloody hell, it’s nice.
My phone lights up on the stretching table beside me, so I hobble my frozen bones over and swipe the screen to answer.
“Gareth, hey! Are you done with training?” Sloan asks.
I’ve been thinking about her all day because she had a meeting with Margaret’s lawyer this afternoon. We got in a pretty big row earlier this week when I wanted her to take my lawyer with her and she refused. I hate that she went alone. I don’t trust Callum. Not by a long shot.
“Yes, I’m just cooling down,” I reply, forcing my teeth to stop chattering. “Did it go okay?”
“It went better than okay,” she replies, her voice high and excited.
I frown curiously as I walk through the hallway from the physical therapy room to the changing room. Most of my teammates have buggered off already, but Hobo and a couple others are still lingering. I reach my cubby and head nod to Hobo, who’s sitting a few chairs away, typing on his mobile.
“Where are you? It sounds like you’re driving,” I ask as I drop down on the chair in front of my dressing area.
“I am,” she confirms. “I’m on my way out to the Lake District to pick up Rex. Freya is picking Sophia up from school, so I’m going to bring him home and surprise her!”
A pleased smile spreads across my face. “Rex, the dog, right? That’s brilliant! Sophia will be thrilled.”
“I know,” she replies. “He’s apparently been staying at the groundskeeper’s house, but I think he belongs at home with us.”