Do Us Part (The Dumont Diaries (#4)) Read Online Free PDF Page B

understand our agreement, and she doesn’t want me to continue the support of your father. She had me call Crestridge and pull the funding. I assure you, I will figure this out, and I will keep my promise to you. I just …”
    There is a heavy blow of air into the phone, and I picture him, leaning back in his chair, his beautiful face a mess of frustration.
    “I just can’t tell her no. Not right now, when she is finally back, and I can finally hold her again. I’m so sorry. But it’s like my world has suddenly returned, and I can’t do anything to jeopardize it right now. I’m sorry.”
    I look at my screen, at the indicator, which tells me that his message is complete. I save the message for later — for when I need my heart to be reopened and stabbed a few more times as a reality check.
    In a small way, I have expected this. She has such a hold over him, a hold that has only strengthened in her absence. In her mind, he is hers — his body, his home, his money. She will want him to cut all ties, won’t approve of his support of an old flame’s father. Flame was too strong of a word. An old fuck. That would be more apt.
    I had expected this, and in anticipation of my demise, I took, for quite possibly the first time in my life, a step down the road of proper planning. Researching Cecile wasn’t the only thing I did at the library that day. I also took my passport and the piece of paper Drew had given me, with Jennifer’s social security number and the account number written neatly on its front. I knew the bank’s name; Nathan had me call and set up an appointment for us.
    So there, using a courtesy phone in the library’s lobby, I used a prepaid long-distance calling card and called the bank, one day before our flight, and transferred some of the funds out of Jennifer’s account.
    I didn’t take much, though much is such a relative term. It wasn’t much when you looked at the balance in the account, but it was a massive infusion to my old bank account — an account that had never carried a balance of more than four figures.
    $4,500,000 — approximately half the interest that had accumulated in the account in the four years since Nathan’s big deposit. Despite the appearance to Nathan, the account had earned a healthy rate of return, allowing me to siphon off a large chunk without tipping him off.
    Mr. Brantling was correct; the transfer was easily done by phone. I downloaded the appropriate forms, scanned in a copy of my passport, and had the item notarized by the receptionist. Fuck saving fifteen percent on car insurance in fifteen minutes. I became a millionaire in half that time.
    I know what you’re thinking — that I am no better than her — both of us stealing from this man, using him for financial gain. But for me, it was simply an insurance policy. I had Nathan’s word that he would take care of my father. And I knew given the hold she had on him, that his word might not be enough. I needed to protect myself, needed to have a parachute in case I got ripped from the Dumont luxury jet. Three days ago I had gotten a small opportunity, a window that opened briefly, and I had to decide in that split second if I would take the opportunity or let it pass. Poor planning had always been my downfall. That one, single moment, I had wanted to make the right decision, wanted to do something that would turn my life in the correct direction, for my father and me. I could always give the money back, if things went right and Nathan kept his word. But I would never be able to recreate that opportunity. I would never have that chance again.
    So I took it. I took the money, just like Cecile, just on a smaller scale. But unlike her, I didn’t run. I was pushed out that mansion’s door, with one hard shove by a tan, manicured hand.

CHAPTER 10
    I check into a Residence Inn three blocks from Crestridge, and spend the first few days at my father’s side. He is overjoyed about the constant companionship, but seems