"Honey," Sam’s mother stroked her hair, trying, with great effort, to put forth a wobbly smile. “I want you to remember something. No matter what happens, I want you to remember that I love you. I love you, and if it were up to me, I would never, ever leave you here."

Sam came awake with a sharp gasp, blinking at the bright light shining from her ceiling. She jumped off the couch and ran to her bedroom, Jasper hot on her heels.

“If it were up to me...” She whispered to herself over and over. Her mother's words rang in her ears like warning bells. Why had she never remembered this? She reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out the notebook and pen she kept there.

“If it were up to me...” She repeated as she put her dream to paper.

Jasper sat in front of her, his brown eyes full of concern.

"Hey,” She said softly, reaching out her hand, scratching his head when he cuddled up to her. “It's okay, it was just a dream. A dream I need to remember."

She kicked her feet up on the bed and lay back, scratching Jasper’s head with one hand, strumming her fingers on the duvet with the other. Her mother had been so adamant, but all nine-year old Samantha saw was a woman who was too weak to stop an evil man. She thought hard, willing her mind to go back there. She'd missed something, something important, damn the pain it might bring her, she had to remember.

She had killed the puppy. She didn't remember leaving the room, but she remembered being in her bedroom. She could still feel the numbness that seeped through her. She remembered the resolution she felt that she would destroy her father. She needed to remember her mother.

“Ugh!” She groaned in frustration. Come on Sam. Think about your mother. What was she trying to tell you? Think. She said something. You heard something...

"Oh, my god."

Sam rolled off the bed, bolting to the living room to grab her phone.

"Carla. I need you now. Bring Cameron and the recording equipment."

"Sam, what's wrong? What's happening?" Carla asked with alarm.

“I remember the night my mom died."

* * *

"We're ready for you, Sam." Cameron called out.

He and Carla had set up the camera, lights, reflectors and audio. Tonight, Sam would make an official statement about the night her mother died. It would be official in that it was being recorded and she intended to send it to Agent DeLuc. She understood that it wouldn't serve as evidence, but maybe it would help fill in some parts for him, for her as well. She still had a massive amount of files she'd pulled from her father's study before burning the big Victorian to the ground. Now she was determined to bring it all out and comb through it.

Sam took a deep breath and smoothed a shaky hand over her hair.

"Wow." Carla breathed.

"What?"

“I haven't seen you do that in years."

"Do what?"

"Smooth your hand over your hair like that." Carla looked at her with sympathy and concern. “It was your tell.” She explained. "When I first met you, you would smooth your hand over your hair, over your skirt, when you were about to do something difficult. When something was going to be emotionally challenging. It's like you're petting yourself, calming yourself."

Sam huffed a quiet laugh. "So observant, Carla. I’m glad you're on my side. You're right, it calms me, even though I didn't realize I was doing it."

“I pinch my thigh." Carla offered.

Sam laughed out loud at that.

"Thank you, friend. That was just what I needed. I’m ready."

She sat in the chair they’d positioned for her and looked straight into the eye that would capture this forever. She thought it was weird, the sense of peace that she felt. It was totally unexpected, but she welcomed it.

"My name is Samantha Covington.” She began in an even tone.

“It was reported that my mother, Marielle Covington, committed suicide on the night of December twenty-fourth, nineteen years ago. I am recounting my memory of that night's events with the hope that something I say will shine a light on questionable evidence. There are two things I remember very clearly about that night. The first, is my mother telling me that she would never willingly leave me with my father, that she had a plan to save us."

She paused for effect, took a short breath, and continued.

"The second thing I remember is the voice of James Nelonie in my father's study, telling him to make a choice. A choice to keep his business or his wife."

She smoothed her hands over her skirt because she couldn't keep herself from doing it.

"I'm more certain than ever that my mother was murdered. That it was made to look like, and reported as, a suicide, and that James Nelonie was the facilitator. At the very least, I know, without a doubt, that he was with Michael Covington that night.”

Cameron nodded to Sam, cut off the recording, and started packing his equipment.

"Sam," Carla said solemnly. "Do you realize that if James is brought up on criminal charges, or even taken in for questioning, you’ll be able to dissolve his shareholder status?"

Sam smiled at her friend. "Yes. This is what I’ve been hoping for.” She shook her head in shame. “I can't believe it's taken me this long to remember. I can't believe I wasted so much time waiting for one of them to make a misstep. It could have been in front of me the whole time."

"Just because you remember hearing him talk to your father, it doesn't give cause for questioning."

"You don't understand." Sam said with a sigh. “I’ve had all my father's files in storage since the night I… Since the night the Victorian burned down. I’m sure there's something incriminating there. My father was Michael Covington. He wouldn't have been in league with James and Norman without keeping some kind of insurance for himself."

"What do you want to do then?" Carla asked.

"I'm going to pull everything out. I’m going to comb through it and I’m going to find something. I’m sure of it.

"I'll help. Let Cam take the kids to the lake this weekend. You and I will have a hunting party."

Sam laughed at the grin on Carla's face, the gleam in her eye. If there was one thing Carla loved, it was a good hunt for information. It was one of the things that made her such a shark as an attorney. She'd find what she needed to take the opposing side down every time. Once again, Sam was grateful Carla worked for her.

* * *

Sam groaned as Stone's hands caressed her body. He kept trailing his fingers over her sensitive skin, teasing her mercilessly. He kept touching her arm, her hand, her neck, tickling, teasing.

"Sttoonne.” She whined, but he just chuckled against her hair. She felt him slide a big, callused hand over her smooth stomach, inching lower at an agonizingly slow pace. She wanted, needed him so badly, bells were going off in her head. She was so close to the edge, she knew if he'd just touch her, she'd fall over.

Damn those bells. Now they were just distracting her. She tried to focus on his touch, his breath against her face. He licked her, but it wasn't doing anything for her. "Pleeaase!"

He licked her again, running his tongue all the way up her face and that bell went off in her head.

She woke with a start, shrieking when she tumbled off the couch.

She'd been dreaming. Why couldn't she just enjoy her dream? The doorbell was ringing, that must have been what woke her. That, and Jasper licking her face. She swiped at her cheek with the blanket that had been over her and pushed to her feet.

Jasper yipped, running to the door. He plopped his butt down and looked at her like she was moving way too slow for his liking. The dog barked at her to hurry up while his tail thumped against the floor.

"Ugh. I was having such a good dream.” Sam complained. She must have dozed off to the evening news after Carla and Cameron left.

Pushing her mussed hair out of her face, she pressed her eye to the peephole, immediately opening the door when she saw Stone standing there.

“I was literally just dreaming about you.” She laughed, but stopped when she looked at him again.

"What's wrong?” She reached for him. "Come inside. What's happened?"

He had dark circles under his eyes. His hair was messed like he'd been mercilessly running his hands through it. Even Jasper was concerned, whining, pressing himself against Stone's legs.

"Hey Sweetness." He said hoarsely, allowing her to pull him to the sofa. “I’m a mess. I’m sorry Sam, maybe I shouldn't have come here... I just..."

"Hey, hey,” She cooed in soft tones. "Sit down. Sit down. Tell me what's wrong, sweetheart."

She'd never called a man sweetheart before, but it felt right. He sat and she climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs, wrapping her arms around his neck. He let his forehead fall to her chest as she ran her fingers through his hair, whispering soothing words, not knowing how to proceed, hoping she was doing the right thing.

"Tell me what's wrong, baby. Are your parents ok? Your brothers?"

He shook his head slowly against her. "They're fine. It's me." He said in a broken voice.

She continued to stroke his hair, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I didn't think it would hit me so hard." His voice was low, barely audible. "Today is the fifth anniversary of my wife's... of Amanda's death." He took a deeply shaky breath and lifted his head, staring into her eyes, not hiding the raw pain swimming in their depths.

“I didn't know it would be like this."

She was confused. Be like what? She furrowed her brow but didn't say anything, just let him keep going.

“I love you, Sam. I love you and I see a life with you and I feel guilty. I feel like I’m betraying her, like I shouldn't be happy because I couldn't make her happy. I feel like I don't deserve any of this because she's dead and I should have saved her."

She felt her own tears well up while she brushed his away. Why was he saying these things? She felt his heart breaking. She felt his agony as if it were her own and she let the tears fall. Let him see them. Let him know she was with him. She wasn't sure the direction he was headed, so she just let him keep talking.

"You're so good, Sweetness. So good, and I don't deserve you... I had to see you though. I couldn't stay away. I don't deserve you, but I need you. Baby, I need you so much.”

Stone’s hands cupped her face, holding her with an intensity and a gentleness that took her breath away. She looked at him, looking at her, and the rest of the world faded away. In that moment, she was his world and he was hers.

"Say you're mine, Sweetness. Say you're mine forever." His voice was rough, almost desperate.

"I'm yours, Stone. I'll always be yours.” She couldn't say anything else because it was the truth. She'd given herself to him in ways she couldn't imagine with anyone else. Stone Montgomery was it for her. He was the one by which all others would be measured and found lacking.

“I love you, Sweetness. I love you so damn much."

Sam’s heart clenched at the sincerity shining in his eyes. He tilted her head, raised his chin to brush his lips against hers, and she breathed him in, savoring the smell that was completely him, tasting the salt from his tears and her own.