Page 6 of Surprisingly Us

“How so?” I ask, eyes narrowing.

“Social media has been very informative.” He winks, but it’s not friendly. “It’s like they’ve got a tracker on you. Everything that’s going on in your life laid out for all to see.”

Ramsey, my assistant, has mentioned a few articles circulating. Some are true, some aren’t. Photos on social media that were taken out of context. I’ve never bothered to set the record straight because it doesn’t matter to me.

Jerrod’s goading me, hoping I’ll engage, but I’m not going to take the bait. I’m here for one thing. The final installment from my trust fund.

My eyes shift to the movement around us. All the board members have arrived. My grandfather is at the head of the table now talking with his assistant.

I cover up the unease of being in this environment by giving Jerrod a lazy grin. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

“That’s true, but where you’re concerned, it’s known to be a reliable source.” He leans in. “Don’t worry, you’ll be out of here in no time. Then, you can go play and leave the work to the rest of the grown-ups.”

His condescending tone grates at me. We’re the same age, yet he’s talking to me like a child. What a fucking dick. I want to remind him of the time we got lost in the woods and he cried like a baby while I carried him for miles until I found a way out.

I shouldn’t let him get to me. It gives him too much satisfaction.

Ignore Jerrod, get the money, and get the hell out.

I’m relieved when my grandfather asks everyone to be seated and he starts the meeting.

My fingers itch to retrieve my buzzing phone from my pocket and zone out by scrolling, but I force myself to focus on my grandfather’s words.

“Now to the matter of Rhys Spencer’s trust disbursement.” He clears his throat before continuing. “On his thirtieth birthday, Rhys Spencer will receive his final trust installment of two hundred fifty million dollars.”

My gaze moves to Jerrod. He’s playing at being unaffected, but I can see the way his jaw ticks.

While his parents provided him a comfortable upbringing, the business deals and investments my father made in his twenties and thirties are unmatched. His ingenuity and financial savvy grew The Spencer Foundation—and the large sum that is my trust fund—into what it is today.

I breathe a sigh of relief at how smoothly that went. I half-expected my grandfather to deny me the money. For there to be a character clause or some bullshit stipulation that I didn’t know about, leaving me blindsided and desperate to fulfill it.

Two hundred and fifty million dollars.

That’s the second installment. The first was when I was twenty-five. It was a smaller sum then, only a hundred million. I invested half of the money and have been traveling and living off the rest ever since.

I should be pleased, but the knot in my gut that took hold the moment I arrived back in Manhattan doesn’t release.

“Now to the next order of business.” Around the room, board members straighten in their chairs, as if to say the real meeting has finally started.

My grandfather leans back in his chair. “I’m stepping down from my position as foundation board president.”

The room is silent for a beat before panicked whispers start circulating.

Jerrod’s gaze flicks to me, a hint of a wolfish gleam in his eyes, before his attention returns to our grandfather who has held up a hand to quiet the room.

“It’s time to usher in a new generation. I never planned to stay as long as I did, but with the situation we found ourselves in, it was necessary.”

He’s talking about my parents’ death. The fact that Ward Spencer became the president of The Spencer Foundation board when my parents died and I was too young to take the position.

My grandfather motions for Macintosh, the board’s legal advisor, to speak.

“As specified in the foundation bylaws, it is required to have a family member as the board’s president.” He continues, “A formal vote will be required, and the conditions met, as one must be thirty years old in order to become the board’s president.”

Another nod from my grandfather and Macintosh closes his binder.

I’m still processing when Jerrod speaks up.

“I’m very much looking forward to the opportunity to provide my service to the foundation.”

---