Chapter 22
WILLIAM
“I’m going to need you both to take a seat—”
“Get fucked,” Nikita spat, all hellfire and fight. Which made Colton perk an obnoxious brow.
“If you want to act like an uncivilised beast, I’m more than happy to send you back to your cell. Maybe being locked up for a few more days will ease your temperament?”
Nikita looked as if she was about to attack him when Thomas piped up. “Would you like me to call the officers back, Mr Tems?”
“No,” I blurted in a rush, gently taking Nikita’s grasp, guiding us into the two chairs opposite the lawyer.
“We’ll listen, Colton. There’s obviously been a misunderstanding, so let’s get everything sorted out,” I finished, squeezing my wife’s hand before she ripped it out of mine.
She still hadn’t acknowledged me, choosing to stare daggers at my son instead.
Despite the grandiose setting and the overdramatised scenario, I was surprisingly ready for our confrontation. I almost longed for it.
He had years of built-up resentment to work through, and if this was his chosen method to purge his demons, then so be it.
“William,” Colton said, tone cool and conversational. “You may have forgotten, but I turn twenty-five next month.” He remained standing against the far wall—the furthest away from us.
I gave a sad smile. His casual calling of my first name and his suggestion that I’d ever forget his birth date wounded me deeply. “I didn’t forget.”
“Oh, no? Well, in celebration of my reaching a quarter century, I thought I’d look into my finances. Student loan and all that,” he said, flitting a hand. “But imagine my surprise when I found out that I have a trust fund. That you kept a secret from me.”
I clocked his insinuation immediately. “It wasn’t going to be a secret forever. I planned on surprising you on your birthday.”
“Cut the shit, old man. Look at where we are. Do you think I have the patience for more of your lies?”
I shook my head. “Sure, maybe I wanted to use it as an excuse to get in contact again. But I’m not lying. I’ve been doing my best to invest and build up your account. I-I was selfishly hoping I could give you something that you would be proud of.”
His expression flashed with emotion before his voice dipped in venom. “Then why have you drained the account completely dry?”
Certainly, I’d misheard. “That’s not possible.”
Colton scrutinised my expression, yet his lawyer was the one to refute my words.
“These are the transaction records from Mr Tems’ account,” Thomas said, as he methodically laid out document after document.
“Over a four-year period, you have withdrawn $2.2 million dollars—all the available funds. The last transaction being right before your wedding.”
A distinct whooshing gathered in my ears as I wrenched open the first folder, meticulously scanning the bank statements and claims—where each and every withdrawal held my signature.
The papers quivered in my shaking hold, the evidence utterly damning and disbelieving.
“No,” I said, the word coming out as a pained whisper. I tried again. “No. The first couple of transactions are mine, but I never spent more than $40,000 dollars.”
“On what?”
“The cryptocurrency that is displayed here,” I said, pointing to the highlighted line.
“The same destination that has been used for every transaction?” Thomas asked, scribbling in a notepad.
I reluctantly nodded. “I-it appears so. They must have made a mistake, continuing to take payments without my authorisation.” My fearful gaze rose to Colton, who remained stoic and severe.
“I swear, Colt. I invested the $40,000 dollars to make you money.”
He ignored me as Thomas kept on with his tirade of questions. “What made you think this was a good investment?”
“Jennifer. She’s studying finance and said this investment was a great choice. Nikita’s made a great return herself—”
Tension immediately wired the room, a deathly electrical current buzzing against the walls, as all attention was shifted from me to my wife.
“Babe?” I implored, wanting her input as backup. But what I found wasn’t a placating, supportive partner. Instead, Nikita sat there stone-cold, her nose pointed upwards with an elitist air.
That’s when I realised she had been silent the entire time. Still, her focus remained entirely on my son.
“Your mother would be ashamed of you, accusing us of this.”
I flinched as if she had slapped me clean across the face. Before I could reply, Colton beat me to it.
“On the contrary. I think my precious mother, Bethy, would be ecstatic that I’ve finally gathered enough evidence to exterminate the disease-ridden rat in our midst.”
“What?” I asked, struggling to keep my composure. I could feel myself wavering on the precipice, emotional backlash building. A terrible reckoning was upon me, and I had no power to stop it.
Colton levelled me with the most honest, cruel glare.
“Nikita never loved you. She is a fraud. One who recycles the same ruse, the same con. A simple one, in fact.” He cleared his throat in jest to make sure I received each and every word.
“Nikita here takes advantage of grieving families and makes useless, pathetic, lonely men fall in love with her so she can steal all their money and assets.”
Nikita turned towards me then, her palms running up my arms, my neck, my face. Yet I could hardly feel her touch, could hardly hear her sweet denials and claims of innocence. Deep down, I knew.
In the last vestiges of my soul, I knew my son spoke the truth. Unadulterated terror soon crept over my very being. By accepting the truth, I then had to accept my failure, my loss, the complete destruction of my world.