Fifteen.

That’s how many direct requests to pull out money from my funds are delivered to my office 24 hours after Derek’s little press conference. I swear that little asshole thinks he can absolve himself of everything by just throwing me under the bus and tossing in Eliza too and walk away, he’s got another thing coming. I don’t need my billions of dollars to use my fists.

Five.

That’s how many minutes after I get really pissed at Derek that it usually takes me to calm down. While I can’t understand what possessed him to do what he did, I do know that he probably felt that he had to. As much as I’m angry at Derek, I know deep down that somehow he tried his best and he didn’t want to harm us.

I know you’re probably even rolling your eyes at that one. I mean in what universe does going on national television with all major news networks recording and saying that two people pressured you to launder money outside of the United States not a premeditated attack on the credibility of the person you’re accusing? But somehow, and don’t ask me how, but somehow I know that Derek was trying to spare us from the worst of it. Somehow he said what he had to, but I know he’s trying to give himself room.

Sixteen.

That’s the number of interview or comment requests I’m getting every hour either at home or at work. Somehow, reporters have managed to track down my personal unlisted home phone number as well as my cell phone number. Thank God the jackals haven’t gotten to Eliza yet, but I know it’s only a matter of time.

Five.

That’s how many lawyers Eliza has brought on board. They’re joining three of my lawyers and together we’re ready to fight anything that comes out of this mess within 24 hours of Derek’s bombshell.

Ten.

That’s how many hours it takes Wanda to show us her hand. Turns out, either she planned this or this was exactly the opportunity she was waiting for because within ten hours we get a notice that Wanda is taking Eliza to Probate Court to contest the articles of the Seymour Family Estate’s will that places Eliza in charge. According to court filed documents, Wanda, as a trustee, no longer has confidence that Eliza is of sound mind and body and of the proper integrity and character to carry out her duties specified. Wanda Seymour is looking to have her stepdaughter removed as the custodian of the Seymour family fortune and step in as needed. Of course, the filings go on to say that Wanda will search for an appropriate custodian but it doesn’t say by when. It’s a good thing we were lawyered up.

Two.

That’s how many weeks we have before we face off against Wanda in court. With her court filings, we realize that we have two weeks to prepare not just in legal documents, but in the court of public opinion as well. If we don’t somehow get the gossip columns and tabloids, which have entered into this story with glee, on our sides, then something tells me that this case could bias itself against Eliza very quickly.

Sixty.

That’s how many minutes long of a press conference we’re planning on doing before the court appearance. It’s not really even my idea. Left to myself, I’d huddle with my lawyers and then go and hit something. It’s Eliza, in bed after a particularly athletic fuck, who comes out with the idea to hold a press conference.

“Not just to counter Derek,” she says, scrunching up her face as she thinks, “But to tell our side of the story as well.”

I can’t argue with that. She’s an intelligent girl and she knows what she’s doing. Even when sometimes it seems that I don’t. But I’ve actually never seen this in Eliza. There’s a passion inside of her. A determination to see this through. It’s heartening to see it, because I recognize it. It’s the same thing I found in myself to start and manage my own business.

“What is it about this whole situation that’s changed you?” I ask, pulling her naked body close to me. “What about it affects you the most?”

Eliza takes a long moment to think.

I can feel every inch of her body against mine.

“I’m angry about the fact that someone is trying to blackmail the legacy left by my father,” she says at last and I bring my head closer to listen to her words as she’s talking so softly she might as well be whispering.

“My father wanted his fortune to be left intact so that it could allow future generations of his family to give more of their time to help those less fortunate,” Eliza says, barely over a whisper. “I remember everyone saying that was his fondest wish. I remember when I read that in his will as well.”

I’m silent. I never knew Eliza’s father personally. I wish, after the stories that Eliza has told me about him, that I had gotten the chance.

“Wanda doesn’t want any of that,” Eliza confides in me. “She wants the money and if she gets her hands on it, there won‘t be anything stopping her from just using it on herself, not protecting any of it for the future. Nothing will be allocated to charity. Nothing will be saved for future generations. All of my father’s hard work will have been squandered in just a few years.”

It’s a side of Eliza Seymour that the gossip columns and celebrity television shows don’t see. It’s a side of Eliza that the revolving cast of hosts in Good Day USA don’t see. I realize at that point it’s that side of her that first got me to fall in love with her.

Three.

That’s how many million dollars will be left to Eliza if we go along with Wanda’s proposal that arrives two days before the press conference. She’s proposing a settlement to avoid the court date. Give up control of all Seymour family assets and step down as custodian for the family and in return receive a lump sump payout of three million dollars.

“I don’t know if I could live on three million dollars?” Eliza says with a smile. “That’s what they expect me to say, isn’t it? She’s trying to goad me to go out in front of the cameras and say that three million dollars is not enough? Does she think I don’t know that most people live on much much less than this?”

Eliza is a different woman. She’s changed since I first met her when I married her stepmother. She’s grown up and become thoughtful and kind and compassionate. She’s beautiful and she still makes my cock hard, don't get me wrong. But she’s also demonstrated that she has a wonderful fucking soul.

“We’re going to war in two days, baby girl,” I tell her, putting my arms around her. “This is just to throw you off your game.”

Eliza looks at me. “I could live on nothing as long as I had you,” she says to me. I can see the love in her eyes. I hold her close.

“You will always have me, Eliza Seymour,” I tell her.

She nuzzles her face into my chest and we hold each other.

But in the silence, it’s like we both know the thought hanging over our heads. How we might be happy together. But we’re not truly complete without a third.

Five.

That’s how many times I think that Derek has tried to reach me.

Two calls to my home where I’ve seen his number, but he’s hung up before I’ve picked up. One email that was pulled back. And two times an appointment has been requested to my secretary when someone has hung up when she’s asked for the name.

I know he’s trying to reach out. I know he’s trying to get in touch. But he’s not following through.

Why?

Normally, I would just go and dial Derek’s number, or show up at his office and demand to know what he’s up to.

But something tells me that this time, there’s something else that he’s doing. That he’s asking me to trust him. To let him handle this on his own.

There’s no secret what we’re doing. We’ve announced the press conference. And the entire city knows that Eliza is facing off in court against her wicked stepmother.

That just means that despite the fact that Derek has bitten me in the past, I have to trust him.

No rational person on paper would.

In fact, I bet there’s a chance that you might even be rolling your eyes now at my feeling that I should trust him.

But I’m telling you, there’s a deadly earnestness it seems in what he’s doing.

He’s up to something.

He knows what we’re up to.

It’s now on him to carry out his plans to save the three of us.

If he has any plans, that is.