The account manager’s last statement didn’t make any sense to me. I asked her to repeat it, and then say it one more time.
“Fraud?” I finally asked, and the word tasted bitter on my tongue. “You’re accusing me of fraud?”
“This isn’t an accusation; this is a statement of fact,” the woman replied in a crisp, no-nonsense tone. If I hadn’t known better, I would have mistaken her for a robot or a recording. “From what we understand, this account is the victim of identity theft, and I see here in the notes it was set up under suspicious circumstances a few days ago. In fact, it specifically says if a Samantha Green calls—”
“What?” I sank into the sofa. Everything around me felt heavy and strange. “I don’t understand. I have the paperwork here, and—”
“I’m afraid you aren’t able to access the account, Ms. Green. The money is not yours. Only authorized users may perform withdrawals or deposits on the balance, and that doesn’t include you.”
I was still confused and didn’t have a good reply.
“I’ve been asked to tell you not to contact us regarding this account again.”
“But—”
“As I said, the account was set up under fraudulent circumstances. And if you contact us again, you’ll be reported to the police.”
“The police?” My heart began thundering in my chest. “I mean—”
“Ms. Green, we are going out of our way to be kind and to offer you this warning because we are working on behalf of one of our best clients—one of our most important ones.” She cleared her throat. “Given the circumstances, we have been more than generous. Please, heed the warning and have a good day.”
An abrupt click of the phone ended the call.
I sat on the sofa for what felt like forever, staring at the phone. None of this made sense. None of it. Fraud? The police? Identity theft? The words grew louder in my mind until they shouted some undeniable truths, things I had wanted to ignore, but couldn’t. I placed a hand on my chest and willed my heartbeat to slow. It didn’t.
I’d been wrong.
Wrong to think I could forge a relationship with Davis Armstrong. Wrong to think my future would include him. And wrong to even attempt to take the money he’d offered.
You’ve been an idiot, Sam.
A fool. Blinded by hope that should have never been there. How could someone I thought I knew—thought I loved—become someone so different in ten years? No-strings attached, my ass.
And then my heart broke a little more when I thought of his words from last night. “I’ve wanted this ever since I saw you at the party.” This. Not me. Us. He’d wanted sex…As if he was owed it. God. How had I been so naïve? I felt dirty, as if I were a notch on his bedpost. Stupid.
After what felt like an eternity, I opened the messaging app on my phone. I saw Davis had sent me some messages, but I didn’t let myself read them. Instead, I typed out a new one:
I can’t believe I fell for your lies. I never thought you’d become this. Lose my number. Don’t contact me again.
And then I blocked his number and closed off my heart. Love and hope were two four-letter words that only belonged in fairy tales. Not real life. Not my life.
I thought I knew my grandfather.
We shared the same name, had the same drive, wanted the family to succeed, and even had the same smile. But he was a stranger to me.
He spread a hand. “Everything I’ve ever done has been to make sure we have what we need to survive in this world. There are people who want to destroy our family. People who are willing to seize any opportunity to claim what we have as theirs.”
I put my head in my hand. A dull ache had begun, and the ominous throb grew stronger every minute I stayed in his office. I needed another drink. Or ten.
“You don’t know Samantha at all.” I raised my face and looked him in his eyes. “You have no idea who she really is.”
“I don’t need to know her. I already know enough.” He folded his arms. “I don’t want you to see her again. Whatever last night was—”
“You don’t have any right to tell me that. It’s not of your business.”
“What you do with your personal life is certainly my business.” He set his jaw tighter. “Believe me, it’s better if you never see Sam or her mother again.”
I stared at him in disbelief. It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like a century passed. A memory? No way. She would go back to being in the past, she would be a part of my future. And I knew then that I was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen. My grandfather had spent years trying to deny the truth about my father, trying to hide his horrible deeds from the world, but I wouldn’t allow those denials to exist any longer.
It was time to be the change.
“If you can’t understand how much I care about Samantha, and how much I want her to be part of my life, I’m afraid I’ll have to separate myself from you. From this.” I stood from the chair. “I’ll leave this company if I have to. This family, if need be. I won’t perpetuate this any longer. The lies stop now.”
He followed my lead and stood. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” Resolution flowed through my veins, and I was certain of my decision with every cell in my body. I’d spent a lifetime living up to his standards, working hard to be the perfect heir to the Armstrong fortune and the name that went with it. But I wasn’t going to compromise myself just to sustain the deceit.
“If you do this, you’ll regret it,” my grandfather said though gritted teeth. “It will change your life forever. Bury you. You’ll wake up one morning and realize what you’ve done, but there won’t be any way to change it.”
We stared at each other, and a hot flush of anger coursed through me.
“I’m not worried,” I said. “I’ve never been more confident about a decision. Besides, I have enough of my own skills to make it without being an Armstrong. I’m done with this family and done with you. Goodbye, Grandfather.”
His face fell. “Goodbye?”
“Yes. Goodbye. For good.”
I made a move to leave and he yelled out.
“Davis, don’t you dare leave this room! Not now, not…oh…I…”
I whirled around in time to see him clutch his chest then yell in pain. The guttural, animalistic sound was something I’d never heard before. Then my grandfather fell to the floor with a deep gasp, and his body slumped on the carpet.
“No!” I rushed over and knelt beside him. His eyes bulged, and he struggled for air. “Someone help!” I shouted through the heavy wooden door. “Help! Somebody come quickly!”
I lunged for the phone at the edge of his desk and pushed the red button on the handset, a button reserved for emergencies. It sounded an alarm throughout the house, and several staffers appeared in moments.
“I’m calling 9-1-1,” Gregory said.
Fuck. It didn’t look very good.
“Stay with me,” I insisted, though I noticed his breaths barely escaped his lungs. “I’m right here with you. Don’t give up. We’re getting you some help…Please, Grandad, hold on.”
An hour or so later, we were in the emergency room when the doctor delivered the news.
The words came in a clinical, unfeeling staccato. A massive heart attack killed my grandfather before he’d even left the house.
I sat there, in the middle of the hospital, watching my life change. He was gone. Davis Armstrong Sr. was dead.
My God.