I thought the secret wedding was the worst part. Then I checked the date on her trust fund.
The front door shut behind them, and the house went quiet.
Gregory Bennett stood in his own living room, staring at the couch where his daughter had been sitting a minute ago. Right next to the man who baptized her.
Her husband.
He said the word out loud, just to hear how wrong it sounded.
Simone was twenty-one. She'd just finished nursing school. Last month she was talking about moving to Atlanta and her first real paycheck.
Pastor Raymond Ellis was sixty-two.
Gregory had known Raymond for thirty years. Raymond married Gregory and his late wife, Diane. Raymond held baby Simone over the water in front of the whole church. Raymond stood at Diane's funeral four years ago and said, "I will watch over this family like it's my own."
Gregory sat down because his legs quit on him.
He called Simone. Voicemail.
He called again. Voicemail.
He texted: "Please. I'm not angry. I just need to understand."
Two hours later, she answered.
"Love has no boundaries, Dad. You'll see. Please don't make this ugly."
Love has no boundaries. That was Raymond talking. Not Simone.
Gregory didn't sleep. At 2 a.m. he went to the kitchen and opened the drawer with the family papers. Diane's will. The house deed. Simone's birth certificate.
And a thick envelope from the bank. "Simone, Trust Account."
He'd almost forgotten about it.
When Diane died, her life insurance went into a trust for Simone. One simple rule: the money would be released to Simone on her twenty-first birthday.
Gregory looked at the calendar.
Simone turned twenty-one exactly nine days ago.
The trust was worth one million, four hundred thousand dollars.
His hands started shaking.
He opened his laptop and typed the name of Raymond's church into the county records website.
What came up made him grab his car keys.
This is a fictional story. Names, characters and events are invented. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental.
