Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“What?” Dash erupted. His anger was tangible, sending a surge through the room. “I’m a student with an impeccable record. How can they justify removing me?”
“Dr. Harris advocated for you. He’s someone good to have at your back. He didn’t let it go, but your father threatened to pull his funding for the entire school, saying you’ll be the last Richmond to enter SMU. Of course Dr. Harris didn’t stand a chance after that.”
Typically composed, Dash had reached his tipping point. A hot flush spread from his neck to his face. The cords and muscles in his shoulders visibly strained. “My utilities were disconnected, my car’s been taken, and they terminated Amelia’s position. She was the person who raised me.”
“Why did he terminate Amelia?” Joy asked, just as concerned. “Why didn’t he reassign her?”
“To hurt me,” Dash said in a steely tone. “What’re my options?” he asked Chandler.
“I don’t know but use Dr. Harris’s advice. He’s reaching out to you in the next couple of days,” Chandler said. “Be honest with him. If the gossip’s to be believed, and the source is his assistant, Dr. Harris said some pretty nasty things about your family.”
“We have to go,” Joy said, winding her hair back up and shoving it under the cap. “I’ll get a phone I can text you on. For whatever it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here,” she said to me with a faint, sweet grin, before she turned to Dash. “I know you were over the moon when he arrived. I’m sorry for what’s happened. Granddad’s completely in the wrong.”
Dash nodded. The anger remained in every line of his body. He needed space to vent to Joy and Chandler.
“I’ll give you some privacy to talk. He won’t do it in front of me,” I said.
I raised my hand in goodbye and held Chandler’s gaze. If I read his expression properly, he blamed me and wondered why I was still there after everything that went down. He wasn’t wrong.
My retreat to the bedroom was swift, closing the door behind me. I had to find a way to sleep. My morning started in seven hours. If not, when Dash returned, he’d take time to talk to me, let me know it was going to be all right, when it so clearly wasn’t.
4: The Deed
Dash/Beau
Dash
Two days later
My father was a master manipulator. It appeared he’d chosen attorneys of the same ilk. I reclined in my office chair, rocking in measured movements, confronted with an incredibly convoluted mess. I inhaled deeply then gave a slow, controlled exhale, going through the steps I’d learned in counseling to keep my anxiety at a distance. Then I repeated the action. This time, the inhalation lingered on the inside until I slowly let it go as a sigh. Confusion was rare for me, but my father had certainly managed to create it.
What more was he hiding? Why was he determined to cut me off at the knees? My kneecaps ached at the possibility. How had I become the very client I wanted to help in the future?
I shook my head. My father had been busy. It hadn’t taken long to find the fraudulent information on the shell company that now supposedly owned my house. If I deciphered all the vague legal jargon correctly, the front company that owned this property was now being dissolved. The assets, meaning my home and the land it was on, were being transferred into Richmond Holdings.
Somehow, my name was listed as the founder of the shell company but was now being removed from the business altogether. I needed time to quietly reflect, to consider my next move. I probably needed to find an attorney who specialized in real estate to counsel me. Someone who wasn’t afraid of my father.
My chair popped forward as I reached for the keyboard. The concern of keeping my house was a minor annoyance compared to the upheaval with my law school. Based on an email I received yesterday from the assistant dean of admissions, I was no longer enrolled at Dedman School of Law. This tragic turn of events was followed by a complete refusal to speak to me by any leadership. I sneered at my computer screen, seeing red as I planned another probable lawsuit in my future.
I might not have my father’s wealth backing me, or his conniving, mean-spirited, cutthroat attitude, but I was steadfast and stubborn as fuck. Smarter than my father too. His day was coming. I’d sit and wait for the opportunity to pounce when the moment was right.
As I logged into my email account, conviction steeled my spine. Out of the dozen or so emails of interest I’d sent to various law schools across the country, I hadn’t heard a peep back. A move from the DFW area seemed imperative. A prospect needed to firm up quickly before Beau’s application for a FedEx route began to process.