“We’ll call you if we need anything, Stacy.” Stacy closes the door and I walk over and sit in one of the chairs in front of Dexter’s desk.
“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” he says wearing an amused smirk.
“I just saw your dad.” He arches a brow leaning back in his seat.
“Really. How did that go?”
“You didn’t tell him I was coming?” I ask him confused. He smiles slyly.
“My father knows everything that goes on in this company. He doesn’t need me to ring any alarms for him.”
I shake my head wondering how people work in this type of world, where calculation and manipulation seem to be key to surviving. I think back to when Dexter and I were close, almost like brothers before his mom died and he went away to boarding school. When he came back from school, he was different. I shudder to think of how I would have turned out if I was raised by that man. Though Dexter Jr. wasn’t really raised by him since he only came home during the summers. But for Dexter Sr. to be able to make decisions that would affect my life, be the person to shape who I would become, I’m thankful for the life I had growing up because I’m screwed up enough.
“So, you want to see your financials?”
I’m shocked that he doesn’t ask why his father wanted to see me… or our father. I wonder how he feels about all of this—knowing that his dad cheated on his mom and had a kid who he lied about his whole life. It doesn’t occur to me until I’m sitting here that Dexter isn’t a uncle through marriage but… my brother, and I feel sorry for him.
“Uhm, yeah,” I tell him trying to keep my emotions in check. He grins and slides a folder over to me. I open it and pull out the pieces of paper. My eyes scan what looks like screen shots of bank statements and financial portfolios. When my eyes land on the total net worth, I almost choke on my own spit.
“I’m worth seven million dollars?!” I am stunned in disbelief. I’ve never seen so much money staring back at me in my life. Before today, I had five thousand dollars in my savings and four hundred in my checking account.
“And Collin has been steadily increasing that. He has a spectacular eye for the market,” Dexter says.
“I can’t believe this.” I stare at the paper in front of me. Granted a lot of the money is tied up in stocks and my 401k, but sitting in just one of my personal checking accounts is five hundred thousand dollars.
“You’re a lot easier to please than your counterpart,” Dexter chuckles, and my eyes bug out.
“You mean this isn’t enough for him?” I ask in disbelief.
“Nowhere near it. He just negotiated an increase in your salary…”
“Which would mean?”
“Your salary is 1.4 million annually,” he says and my mouth drops open. I let out a long whistle, completely baffled.
“What is it that I do here exactly?” I swallow the huge lump in my throat. A grin spreads across his face.
“Well, it depends on who’s in the driver’s seat,” he sits a drink down in front of me and I wave him off.
“This isn’t my life. This can’t be my life. I’m not rich, I’m not a business shark…” I stand from my chair and begin to pace the office.
“Do I pay taxes on this?”
“Yes all of that is taken care of.” He watches me with amusement. I’ve got to pull myself together.
I’m rich.
“I-I don’t know what to say.” I am completely baffled.
“You seem surprised.”
“Well, yeah…” I feel like the reason should be completely obvious to him.
“You’ve been to your house. Have you seen his cars, the clothes he wears… did you think all of those things were on loan?” He chuckles.
“No, I mean I knew they were expensive but… it’s a lot different when you see the numbers…”
“I’m sending you a secure email with all of your usernames and passwords,” he tells me, and I gulp.
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Well, I would suggest that you allow us to continue to manage your portfolio, and as far as what’s in your checking account, that’s entirely at your discretion.”
“I’m sure Lauren can go over the expenses that you incur each month but your mortgage is paid off, and all of your cars are owned or on company lease.”
I try to focus on breathing. “I don’t understand how or why do I have all of this?” I ask confused. His smile turns into a small grin.
“Well, after everything came out, it only makes sense. You’re a Crestfield.” It does make sense. Dexter Sr. didn’t help me as a favor to my dad—he helped me because I’m his blood, his secret son.
“Okay, so what do you want me to do? I don’t want any part of what ‘they’ve been doing,” I tell him nervously.
“I think we have a place that would be a great fit for you,” he says with a grin.
“Lauren,” I open my eyes and see Chris standing in front of me. His face is lit up—his smile so bright—he’s almost beaming. He looks like he did right after I first met him, that simple time when he didn’t let the heaviness of our situation weigh him down. I sit up in bed and try to wipe the sleep from my eyes. He called me and said it would be awhile before he made it home, but I didn’t think he meant this long. I glance at the clock on our dresser; it’s 11:30 at night.
“Hey…” My voice trails off when I notice all the bags crowded around our bed. There are at least fifteen of them.
“Wow.” I laugh. I know I had mentioned that he needed some new clothes earlier, but I didn’t really take Chris as a ‘shopper.’ I thought he’d grab a few shirts and jeans.
“This isn’t for me. I bought Caylen some toys, and the saleswoman picked out some stuff for you and my mom too,” he says enthusiastically. He hands me a bag that distinctly says Neiman Marcus, and I am surprised. I didn’t take Chris for a Neiman’s guy, more like an Old Navy guy.
“I asked my assistant where I should go shopping since I’m not from here and she took a half day off and went with me to this place called the Magnificent Mile,” he says enthusiastically, like a kid in a candy store. I try to hide my annoyance at the fact that he went shopping with his assistant instead of calling me, but he’s so cute in his excitement.
“I take it your meeting with Dexter went well?” I open one of the bags he hands me and see a cute little purple and white jumpsuit for Caylen.
“Yeah. Did you know I had that much money?” he asks matter-of-factly.
“I had an inkling,” I say with a giggle.
We go through several bags of stuff for me and Caylen. I try to get a picture of his assistant in my head. She has amazing taste, and there isn’t one item I picked up that I didn’t like, but it’s all expensive. After marrying Cal, it put me into a whole other ladder financially, but I still consider myself frugal. That’s not to say that I don’t have several expensive handbags and pairs of shoes, but I still scoff at the prices of designer clothing, and looking at the tags of this stuff makes me cringe. I could have gotten similar items for Caylen from Target or H&M, but I don’t have the heart to tell him.