37. Callie
thirty-seven
Callie
The fiery ball of bile in my stomach bubbles up my throat as Eli pulls into a parking lot in downtown Burbank and parks in one of the visitor parking spots. He cuts the engine and turns to me as I stare out the window at the white commercial building.
Seeking strength from the memory of my dad, I nervously twist the ring on my thumb. Ever since Eli told me Silla paid him a visit yesterday at work, I’ve been a mess. My sweet man has done his best to distract me with passionate kisses and multiple orgasms, but as soon as the high wears off, the horrible truth lingers: Silla hates me and wants me dead.
I still can’t wrap my head around the reality of it all. Not even the events that led me here seem real, but I can’t shake this ominous cloud hanging over me. She’s up to something, and if I want to make it out of this alive, I need to beat her at her own game.
“We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.” Eli wraps his hand around mine and gives it a warm, supporting squeeze.
I love Eli more for proposing the option, but this is something I can’t hide from anymore. Meeting with David Jenkins will put some of the puzzle pieces together and help me break free from Silla’s shackles so I can move forward with my life. I need answers. I just hope Jenkins has some of them.
“No, I want to. It’s time. You’re right; I can’t keep living under Silla’s thumb. This has to end.”
“That’s my brave girl.” He leans across the center console and kisses me, then pulls out the Evaders’ hat in his glove compartment and places it on my head.
“A little overkill, don’t you think?” I adjust the brunette wig on my head.
“Not in the slightest. Sunglasses on, princess.”
Following his order, I slide on a pair of aviators. This is one of those times where I let Eli lead. Not for my sake but for his. He’s been good at hiding his worries, but he’s no award-winning actor.
Eli has a point, though. Going incognito will help keep Silla in the dark. If someone snapped a picture of me and posted it online, it could give away our plan. The last thing I want is to tip off my evil half-sister before I get the chance to bring her down. We even made an appointment to meet with Jenkins using a fake name. He thinks we are a newly married couple looking to get our affairs in order.
The receptionist greets us as we enter the quiet office, informing us that Mr. Jenkins will be right out.
Eli removes his phone from his pocket and hits the record button on the voice app before shoving it back into his breast pocket. He winks at me. “Just in case.”
I’d kiss him right now if the man we came to visit didn’t interrupt us.
“Mr. and Mrs. … Charming, I presume?” Jenkins asks.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, and his dirty blond hair is longer and slightly greasy with product, but I would recognize him anywhere.
“That’s us,” my fake hubby states proudly.
I fight a smile as Jenkins extends his hand to Eli, who obliges him with a friendly greeting.
Jenkins’s eyes gleam as his eyes roam over Eli, noticing my husband’s Rolex, custom suit, and Italian loafers. His beady blue eyes that border on icy widen in delight. He doesn’t bother introducing himself to me—the sexist pig—and leads us back to his office. I should be thankful the slime ball hasn’t recognized me yet, but I can’t stop myself from glaring daggers at the back of his head.
“Please take a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?” Again, he only asks the man I’m with.
I let Eli answer as I continue to play the quiet, dutiful wife.
“No, thank you. I think we would like to get down to business. Right, wife?”
“Right,” I reply with a plastic smile. My earlier nerves are gone as anger burns in my veins. I am going to love taking this bastard down a peg or two.
“What can I help you with?” Jenkins takes a seat behind his enormous oak desk and steeples his fingers.
Overcompensating much? What a tool.
Eli nods at me to take the reins.
We decided I would confront Jenkins. At first, I was weary, but after Jenkins’s misogynistic display, I’m ready.
Gripping the brim of the hat, I take it off and hand it to Eli. When I slip my fingers under the front lace of my wig and slide it off, placing it on my lap, Jenkins’s eyes widen in panic.
“Callie,” he gasps.
“Surprise.”
“Umm, does Silla know you’re here?”
“No. This is between you and me.”
Eli interjects, “And between you and me, if you tell Silla, I’ll make your business suffer.”
Jenkins runs his hands through his hair, muttering curses. “I’m already suffering.”
“Because of Silla?”
Jenkins nods in agreement. “If you’re here, then you have to know about your father’s will and the trusts.”
“And the conservatorship,” I snap.
Jenkins visibly gulps, confirming our suspicions.
“I know you faked it all, and with the evidence I have, I’m pretty sure I can get you disbarred.”
“You don’t have evidence. Silla made sure of it.” He scratches his neck, a nervous tic.
I don’t, but I will, so I bluff. “Are you sure? Silla keeps copies of everything in her safe at the penthouse.” I don’t know if Silla has a safe, but I’m guessing she does. She is a master of manipulation, and it looks like I’m not the only one she’s been messing with.
His tune changes at my ruse. “What do you want?”
“I want to know everything you know. And if you help me, I’ll help you with whatever Silla has on you.”
“Unlike my wife”—my fake hubby glances at me and winks, making my lady parts swoon, before he aims his furious glare back at the slimy lawyer in front of us—“if I find you left something out, I’m not above dragging you and your business down. It won’t take very many calls for me to ruin you.”
At Eli’s promise, Jenkins puts his hands up in surrender. “I’ll tell you anything you want. I’m so fucking sick of this shit. My stomach is riddled with ulcers because of her.”
“Start at the beginning. How do you know, Silla?” I demand.
He takes a deep breath and exhales sharply. “I met her in college. She was beautiful, smart, fun … and wild. The girl knew how to party. We hooked up a few times, but it was nothing serious. There were rumors she had a guy back home. Anyway, after graduation we went our separate ways. Over the years, I heard stories from classmates about how she got wilder after college and had access to her trust fund. Parties on yachts, all expenses paid, trips for her cronies… Shit like that. Anyway, one day, she pops up at this bar I used to frequent. I was going through a rough spell with my wife, and… Well, one thing led to another.”
“You slept with her,” I interject.
Sadness creases the corners of his eyes as he nods.
“Silla’s good at that, making men feel like kings before she fucks them over. You weren’t the first and certainly not the last.”
He chuckles sadly. “I know. It was a stupid mistake, one I instantly regretted.”
“She targeted you. Why?”
Jenkins chuffs at my question. He might be repentant, but he’s still a cocky douche. “I’m a horrible person,” he surprisingly admits. “But I’m a damn good attorney. She needed my help to get her hands on your dad’s assets after his death. She threatened to show my wife a video she recorded of us without my knowledge, unless I helped her. I tried to reason with Silla, but then she showed up uninvited to a dinner party at my house with this hard-looking guy. I couldn’t take a chance of my wife finding out I cheated. We had just found out she was pregnant, so I told Silla I would help her.”
“Tell me about the will and trusts.”
He blows out another deep breath, releasing some of the weight of his guilt, as he opens the drawer beside him and pulls out a thick file, plopping it on the desk. “The lawyer your dad used is a genius. His will and the trusts created are iron clad. His information is inside here, so you can get in contact with him. Silla doesn’t know about this copy, so you can keep it.” He taps the file. “You should have an attorney read it, but it basically states that in the event of your father’s passing, all his assets belong to you. Your mother was provided a small lump sum and the Malibu house. Diana was also listed as the designated trustee until you turned twenty-five or met one of the other three requirements: marriage, college graduation, or birth of a child. Silla received her trust after graduating college, so she wasn’t entitled to anything else.”
“I bet Silla didn’t like that,” I mumble.
“No, she didn’t. She wanted everything. What Silla wants, Silla gets or does whatever she has to get it. Here, and unfortunately with my help, I figured out the guardianship loophole.”
Jenkins explains that if he had filed for conservatorship of my mother with the court, it would have activated the will clauses that would freeze access to any money until I met one of the four requirements, so they faked it. He pulled strings to make the paperwork look official and helped Silla get forged identification in my mother’s name, which allowed Silla to collect monthly child support and sell my family home.
“So, the bank thinks Silla is my mother?”
“Yes. Silla has drained that account and sold the Malibu house.” Jenkins has the decency to cringe. “I’m sorry, Callie. I was trying to protect my family—”
Some of my anger at the man behind the desk thaws.
As if sensing my change of heart, Eli interjects. “What about the life insurance policy?” He doesn’t want the lying snake to wiggle his way into my forgiving heart and get off easy. I don’t blame him, but I just want to move on.
Jenkins looks at Eli in confusion. “I don’t know about any insurance policy, I swear. I only know that if Callie passes before any of the terms in the trust are fulfilled, everything goes to charity. The penthouse, the classic cars, Andrew’s stocks, some other real estate, and the millions in the bank.”
Holy shit. Millions. I knew my dad was rich, but this says he was vastly wealthy.
“There’s one more thing you should know. When your father passed, Silla was broke. She never outright said anything about what went down, but she was not sad. She’s always been cold, but something about everything that went down nags at me. It’s one of many reasons I’m terrified of what she’ll do.”
“One last question,” Eli interjects.
Jenkins inclines his head.
“Do you have a name for the guy she showed up with that night at your house?”
Jenkins shakes his head. “’Ak’ something. Kovak or Novak. I don’t remember. I noticed they were really cozy, which is strange because Silla doesn’t do relationships. But that’s all I know.”
I grab the file containing all the last parts of my dad’s story and hug it to my chest. “Thank you, David. I’ll try to keep you out of it. For your wife and children’s sake.”
“I appreciate the gesture, but I’m ready to accept the consequences. Sorry for my part in this mess. I hope, one day, you can forgive me.”
Doubtful.
All I can offer him is a nod as I stand from my seat, ready to go. I meant what I said. I would do my best to keep him—or at least the video—out of it. It’s not his kids’ fault their dad’s a lying, cheating, misogynistic pig.
Eli, who has no such qualms, stands and buttons his suit jacket, looking icy hot as he stares down Jenkins. “Make sure you keep this between us, or Silla will be the least of your worries. Unlike my girl, I’m not so forgiving.”
My man places his warm hand on the small of my back and, with his loving support, leads me out of the office.