Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

“You…” She swallowed. “You can only withdraw ten thousand at a time.”

“But I have millions in my account.”

“It’s federal law.”

My eyes landed on the pen chained to the desk. Green. Why did it have to be fucking green?

All these months wondering why Grayson chose Lottie over me. Agonizing. And in the end, it was because he didn’t trust me. I was pissed, but mostly because I still couldn’t hate him.

Protect me? He was trying to fucking protect me?

Grayson Crowne doesn’t just set himself on fire to keep others warm, he bleeds himself dry to keep them alive.

So when there’s nothing left of him…nothing left to be saved…he’s not there to see the ruin.

“Miss Hale?” I looked up, finding another woman in a maroon blazer had appeared behind the teller. She had straw hair and crow’s-feet spreading from her brown eyes. When she saw the computer, the same bug-eyed look fell across her face.

“Yes.”

“You were inquiring about a large withdrawal?”

“Five hundred thousand,” the first teller supplied.

“We’re a small credit union, Miss Hale. We don’t even have that much money on-site. If you want to draw more than that, it will take at least a week. But if I can give you my advice, with this kind of balance, you’re better suited elsewhere.”

“A week?” I exhaled as my shoulders dropped. “I don’t have a week.”

They exchanged a look, and I realized distantly what I must look like to them. A desperate woman who suddenly had millions, trying to get it all out.

“If you’re in trouble—” the manager started.

“I’m fine. I just need my money.”

Silence.

I wasn’t going to get five hundred thousand. It was locked away.

“I’ll take the ten thousand.” I sighed.

They gave me my money, and, dejected, I went outside to an unusually warm Crowne Point autumn day. By some joke of fate, a lawyer grinned on the bus bench at my back.

I still had the card from my uncle’s lawyer. It was thick, white stock and felt expensive. He’d told me to call him when I had a new place to live…but maybe he could help me.

After speaking to his assistant, I was put through to him.

“Miss Hale,” he said. “Have you secured a place of residence?”

“I…” I trailed off. He sounded so happy I’d called, and I felt awkward bringing up this problem over the phone. A place to live?

I hadn’t been back to Crowne Hall, I’d been sleeping in the motel.

“I need help fighting for custody,” I finally said. “Can you help?”

There was an audible pause. A car drove by, kicking up wind as I waited.

“I work in estates, Miss Hale. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t really know where to start.”

He continued to talk, offering platitudes. I murmured responses as I stared down Crowne Point’s Main Street, stretching long in front of me. The sun suddenly felt too hot on my back.