Page 8 of Powerful Deception
Ella gives me a small smile before she looks around the hallway. She must realize that she sticks out like a sore thumb, especially with that big ol’ diamond that she is wearing on her finger.
“Maybe we can have this conversation inside?” she suggests, looking over my shoulder into my apartment.
I don’t really want this strange woman in my space, but I still open the door wider and wave her in.
The second I close the door; I realize just how much of a mess the place is.
“Sorry.” I mutter as I make my way to the small couch I have across from my bed.
“No worries. I know it’s been a rough couple of weeks for you,” she says, taking a seat on the couch, her back slouching a bit.
“Yeah, it has,” I say, following her lead and taking a seat of my own before turning to her. “What does my father’s death have to do with the Lane Family?”
Growing up in Chicago, I spent a majority of my life hearing about the elusive Lanes. There are so many rumors about them that nobody knows what is true and what isn’t. I do know that they own most of the buildings in the city and they do a lot to support the people that live here. Of course, I also know the patriarch of the family is Bennett Lane, who up until a few years ago was considered the city’s most eligible bachelor.
Never have I crossed paths with the family and all I know about them comes from all the rumors and news articles that have been circulating around throughout the years.
I know my dad never met Mr. Lane. Or maybe he did since there is so much that I didn’t know until recently. But that doesn’t answer why the hell a person working with the Foundation is sitting on my couch right now?
“Mr. Lane heard about your father’s death and unfortunately was out of town for the service, but he still wanted to make a donation to pay his respect.” She tells me.
I watch as Ella reaches into her purse and takes out a white envelope before she extends it to me.
Wary, I take and open it as if confetti were to pop out the second, I slide my finger under the flap.
I take the piece of paper out and flip it over and the second I see that it’s a check and what is written on the front, I feel my jaw go slack.
Five hundred thousand dollars and it’s made out to my name.
The other shocking part? The check is coming straight from Bennett Lane himself and not from his foundation.
What the fuck?
“I’m sorry, but did Mr. Lane know my father?” I ask.
Maybe he did and my dad never told me because who gives a random stranger half a million dollars?
I can feel tears stinging at the back of my eyes as I continue to look down at the piece of paper in my hands.
This amount of money can change so much.
“Their paths did cross a time or two. Mr. Lane is a big supporter of the Chicago Police department and knew the type of detective that your father was. When he heard of his death, he wanted to do something to help.”
Finally, I look up at Ella. “Giving me a check with this many zeros, is helping?”
Ella lets out a sigh. “Bennett, Mr. Lane, knows just how much pain comes with the death of a parent. He also knows of the struggle that one goes through financially to take care of everything that they left behind. He wants to make that process easier and the only way he can think of doing that is through that check.”
“And if I decline his help?”
“Then I’m sure somehow that amount of money will show up in your bank account in the next couple of days.”
I want to laugh at her words but the look on her face tells me she is one hundred percent serious.
Who the fuck is this family?
I look back at the check.
This amount of money can really help. Specifically, to pay off the debt I acquired with paying for the funeral. As for the rest, my bank account currently sits at one dollar and fifteen cents, so I’m sure I can find something to do with it.