That was when I realized the risks I was taking being involved with Matthew. There were constant threats, most of them empty, that he never told me about. He didn’t have to; I’d gotten to know him well enough to notice the changes in his mood when he was worried about something. Instead of the playful, funny, flirty man I’d fallen in love with, I was faced with a quiet, broody, short-tempered man completely on edge. I learned quickly to leave him alone for a few hours to let him work out his stress in the home gym or with his personal trainer or working in his office, and he’d be my Matthew again.
Aside from the threats, our life was seemingly perfect. He took me to places I’d only ever dreamed about—England, France, Italy, Australia, and anywhere else I mentioned in passing having an interest in seeing. To my annoyance, he showered me with gifts whenever he had the chance. At first I resented the gifts, feeling as though he was giving me something I couldn’t return. Over and over he told me I’d given him exactly what he wanted from me and no amount of jewelry or clothing or whatever else he gave me could ever match up to that. Whenever I asked him what it was I’d given him, he’d only smile and kiss me, then change the subject.
Eventually I learned just to go along with whatever he had planned. And it was great. I never saw us breaking up, only getting closer as the years went by. And right now, I’d give anything to have those moments back.
A few days after the break-in at Young Technologies, I found my own distraction in the form of starting my new job. I hadn’t known what to expect working as an office manager for a travel agency. I couldn’t imagine many of the Santa Clara residents in need of such services and envisioned myself sitting around the office for most of the day twiddling my thumbs. Luckily, I was wrong. While there wasn’t a lot of local business yet—Frank assured me business would pick up in October—apparently this little travel agency garnered business from surrounding cities. The phones rang for most of the day. Clients came and went. And I had my work cut out for me.
I like my job. It keeps me occupied and focused, it gives me purpose. I even like my boss, Frank. Admittedly when I first met him, he made me a little uneasy and I had concerns about whether he would start trying to hit on me. So far, that’s not the case. He’s friendly, funny, and I can see us becoming friends. That’s fine by me. I’m not looking for anything more and judging by what little I’ve learned about him, neither is he.
The only odd thing about my workplace life is the level of security. Aside from the camera I noticed the day I met Frank, there are others throughout the office and a few doors that remain locked at all times. Leo told me Frank used to work with Matthew and though he had separated himself from Matthew, he still felt the need to keep his eyes open at all times. It left me feeling uneasy at times, knowing my every move was documented, but knowing what Matthew used to deal with on a daily basis, these security measures were tame. I soothed my paranoia by reminding myself it was none of my business and as long as I stayed out of it, I had nothing to worry about.
At the end of my first week, I have plans to spend the weekend with my son. Claire has even threatened a visit. It all feels very normal at a time that I don’t really remember when I last felt normal. I pick Tyler up from school and on the drive home I grin as he tells me about his day, what he did, what he learned, and about the friends he made. Knowing my son is happy does wonders for my own mood. It’s not until we pull into the driveway that my good mood turns sour.
Leo is standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the front door, his arms crossed. Parked directly in front of the garage is a car I faintly recognize and I feel my stomach sink at the implication.
“Ty, stay here a moment,” I tell my son, unbuckling and getting out of the car to approach Leo. “What’s going on?”
Leo sighs, running a hand through his blond hair. “Matt’s dad is here,” he tells me quietly. “I tried to tell him you were at work and I didn’t know when you’d be back, but he insisted on waiting.”
I blink rapidly in surprise. “He wants to see me?” I ask in disbelief.
Nodding, Leo’s mouth turns into a thin line. “Apparently. I thought maybe he was coming in to get something of Matt’s, but no... if you want, I can get him out somehow.”
I shake my head, resolving myself to a confrontation that should have happened years ago. “No, it’s fine,” I tell him. “I can handle it.”
Leo looks skeptical. “Do you want me to hang around?”
Again, I shake my head. “Thanks, but no. Though if you can get Tyler out of the car and take him out back to play or something, I’d really appreciate it.”
“You got it,” Leo tells me, squeezing my shoulder as he passes me on his way to retrieve my son.
Sighing heavily, I head up the stairs, trying to figure out what Paul Young could possibly want with me. I have no doubt this is far from a social how-are-you-settling-in visit. As I search the house for my unwanted guest, I prepare myself for whatever he might throw at me. He’s never hidden his dislike of me. The fact that he told his oldest two daughters that the reason I left Matthew was that he’d bought me off shows just how much he wanted me out of his family’s life. It didn’t escape my notice that, until very recently, Claire wasn’t aware of the lie. If she had been, she would have gone straight to Matthew with it, who would have gone straight to his father and confronted him, then he would have chased me down with the belief that the real reason I left was because his father made me feel unworthy of him. Which he had. But I’m not about to let Paul know that.
I stop just outside Matthew’s home office, a place I haven’t entered since the last time I was here with Matthew and Tom. Paul is standing in front of the aquarium, and I realize with a pang I haven’t even been in here to feed the fish. Clearly they’re all still alive, so I think Leo has been taking care of them for me. His back is to me and every so often I see him lift a glass tumbler half-filled with amber liquid to his lips.
“I’d offer you a drink,” I say bravely, “but it seems you’ve helped yourself.”
Paul whirls around to face me, his thoughtful expression changing immediately into a scowl I’m pretty certain he reserves specifically for me. “If a man can’t make himself comfortable in his son’s home...” he responds quietly. I don’t miss the subtle hint that he doesn’t believe I belong here and that this will never be my home if he has his way.
“Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Young? I need to made dinner for my son,” I shoot back. As much as I want to irritate him by using his first name during our conversation, I figure the only way to get rid of him without causing a scene will be to remain pleasant with him.
“What are you doing here, Samantha?” he asks me bluntly. “I thought we settled all this five years ago?”
And there it is. “What exactly did we settle?” I ask quietly, entering the room more fully. “Because my memory is that you blindsided me while my husband was hanging onto life by a thread by telling me I didn’t deserve him and how it was my fault he was there in the first place because he was too distracted by me and his son that he wasn’t paying attention to the security of his building. Then you tried to convince me I needed to leave Matthew and give him full custody of our son, because what kind of life could I provide him when I grew up surrounded by cow shit? And when that didn’t get you your way, you offered me half a million dollars to leave and never look back. I don’t know what you think you were trying to achieve with that other than never having to deal with me again. You don’t have to like me. I came to terms with that years ago. But when I was with Matthew, it was because I loved him as much as he loved me. I never wanted him for any other reason. And it says a lot more about you than it does me that you would go to such lengths to break apart your son’s marriage and destroy his happiness because you don’t believe he made the right romantic choice. You’d rather he stay with someone who cheated on him and broke his heart completely, because she was a better fit image-wise.”
“How dare you!” he sn
arls, setting down his glass so forcefully against Matthew’s desk that I expect it to shatter. “You think I didn’t want to see my son happy? I spent my entire life trying to make that boy happy. He was successful beyond anyone’s imagination. He could have had any woman in the world. The only one he wanted was Lucy. They would have worked out their problems if you hadn’t come along.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “I didn’t even come into his life until six years after he broke up with Lucy! Are you really telling me Matt was happy after I left? That having me out of his life somehow made it better?” I paused for a few moments until Paul’s eyes darted away very briefly, then nodded in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought. Where you were convinced he’d be happier without me, he was more miserable. I may not have taken your money, but you put enough doubt in my head about whether or not you were right that I thought it myself. You can say what you want about me and believe what you want, but don’t you ever think Matthew wasn’t everything to me.”
“You kept his son from him.”
I feel my hands start to shake, my vision becoming limited and I know I’m moments away from losing my temper completely. I want to argue, but I know anything I say will be wrong. There is no justifying keeping Matthew and his son apart for so long. If I’d known how things would end for Matthew, I would have rectified the situation. It’s the one regret I have in my life, even overshadowing leaving Matthew at all.
“You can act all high and mighty as much as you want to, Samantha,” Paul tells me in a deathly quiet voice, “but when it comes down to it, as much as you claim to love Matthew, you’re the one who broke his heart by taking away his son.”
“Fuck you,” I hear myself say. “I don’t have to defend my actions to you or anybody else. You have no room to judge me for anything I’ve done, least of all for leaving Matthew. It’s what you wanted; you should have been happy.”
“I didn’t come here to argue with you over the past,” he says harshly. “You don’t belong here. You never did. I don’t give a damn what Matthew’s final wishes were; I will have you out of this house. I just thought I’d give you a bit of warning not to get too comfortable.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him quietly. “I’m here because it’s what Matt wanted and I won’t stomp on his grave by going against his wishes. If you don’t like it, get out and don’t come back.”
His eyes narrow on me and I think he’s realizing I’m not the naïve little girl I had been when he first met me. I’m not going to cave to his demands and I’m sure as hell not going to cower at his feet. Regardless of what he believes, this is my home. It’s my son’s home. And we’re staying here. “We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way,” he says, approaching me. I stand my ground, squaring my shoulders, and trying to keep my wariness for the situation hidden. “Clearly you’re too stubborn to do it the easy way. We’ll see you in court.”
Without knowing where this newfound confidence is coming from, I hear myself get out one last comment. “Just make sure you call before you drop by next time so I can alert the front gate not to let you through.”
With a snarl, he walks past me, down the stairs, and out the front door, slamming it shut behind him. I’m left standing in Matthew’s office, shaking in rage, trying to work out what just happened. Unless I’m very much mistaken, Paul Young has just threatened to challenge Matthew’s will, and I am not looking forward to finding out how far he’s willing to take it.
Suddenly the entire situation makes me sick to my stomach and I bolt from the office down the hall to the bathroom and heave everything I’ve eaten today into the toilet. I’m sobbing. I’m angry. I’m scared. Eventually, my stomach settles and I push myself off the floor, rinsing my mouth and brushing my teeth thoroughly. When I leave the bathroom I stop immediately to find Leo leaning against the wall opposite me looking concerned.
“You all right?” he asks quietly.
I nod. “I’m fine,” I say hoarsely, my throat raw. “I hate to ask this of you, but would you mind taking care of Tyler tonight? I just need to lie down for a while.”
Leo smiles sympathetically. “Not a problem,” he tells me. “Get some rest. Oh, and I don’t know what you said to Paul, but he’s pissed. Good job.”
This unexpected compliment makes me laugh and I thank Leo for watching Tyler for the night before stumbling to my bedroom and falling asleep with my eyes locked on a bedside photo of me, Tyler, and Matthew smiling like the loving family we had been.
-------------o-------------
I haven’t slept in days. Between all the information I’d gathered after getting into my office at Young Technologies and realizing my visit wasn’t nearly as secret as I’d hoped it would be, I’ve spent my days trying to fight my way back to the living. All I’ve achieved is more frustration. One would think with all my connections and creative genius I could work out who it is on my team that has been working so hard to ruin me, my career, and every last thing I’ve worked for. But one would be wrong. Whoever this person is, they’re highly skilled in covering their tracks. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do; I can’t dig this person up. And it’s really starting to piss me off. The longer it takes to resolve this, the longer I’m away from my family. And the longer they’re exposed to danger.
A knock on my motel door snaps me out of my brooding reverie and I automatically reach for the gun I’ve started carrying with me. I loathe the damn thing, but it’s getting to the point where I truly don’t have any other options in defending myself. The people who are trying to wipe me away aren’t going to hesitate to use everything at their disposal and I’m willing to do to whatever it takes to protect myself. I approach the door silently, releasing the safety on the gun, and press my eye to the peephole, grinning and relaxing. I store the gun in my belt and work on unlocking the door.
“Took you long enough,” I grumble as Marcus enters wearing jeans and an NYU sweatshirt and carrying a brown bag that smells like dinner.
“Not my fault you’re a spoiled rich boy who doesn’t know the meaning of patience,” he grumbles right back, shoving the bag into my chest. “And put away that fucking gun before you shoot off your balls.”
Flinching at the very thought, I set down the bag and do as he instructs before taking a seat at the small round table beside the curtained window blocking the view inside. My mouth waters as I remove a large bacon cheeseburger and even larger order of fresh french fries. “Have I told you lately that you’re my hero?” I ask through a mouthful of fries.
“Yeah, well, you’re not going to think that when I show you what I dug up,” he informs me, sitting beside me and retrieving his own dinner from the bag. I freeze midway through stuffing another handful of fries into my mouth and look at him warily. Given the task I asked him to take on, if he managed to actually dig up something negative, I probably don’t want to know. But of course he won’t just let it go. Marcus West has always been among my favorite federal agents. While most of them would beat around the bush as they try to keep information from a person, Marcus gives you the plain truth, whether you like it or not. I value that in the people that surround me. I don’t have time for bullshit. Especially not right now. “You were right about the plane. It was sabotage. Still working on exactly how they pulled it off so neatly. Not to mention they managed to gain access to the fucking thing with all the security surrounding it.”
Sighing, I drop my burger back onto the wrapper, sitting back in my chair. “And despite knowing I was right, having it proven just makes it worse,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It had to be someone with clearance, right? Someone who wouldn’t seem suspicious coming and going from the plane in the middle of the fucking night.”
“That’s a theory,” Marcus says, nodding. “If I had to place bets, I’d almost say it was a member of the flight crew. They would have the most access to the plane. They could have been bribed or blackmailed into busting that engine.”
“And they st
ill boarded the plane before takeoff, knowing exactly what was going to happen,” I say doubtfully. “What’s the point in accepting a bribe or giving into blackmail if you know you’re going to die anyway?”
Marcus shrugs. “Matt, there’s honestly no telling why some people do what they do,” he tells me. “Maybe the threats and bribes were linked to their families. There are a hundred different scenarios.”
Resignedly, I accept his explanation and force myself to return to my dinner, not knowing the next time I’ll get this decent a meal. “What about the other thing I asked you to look into?” I say after a few minutes of eating and drinking. “Any luck?”
I could say things as nonchalantly as I like, but Marcus is shrewd and won’t be fooled into believing I only have a passing concern about the other information I wanted him to look into for me. “Yes, actually,” he says, setting down his burger and wiping his face before reaching over to his backpack and pulling out a manila file folder and handing it to me.
Accepting it, I open the folder and read through the report, not seeing anything that really surprises me. Turning the page, I look at the photo paperclipped to the folder, feeling a pang of longing shoot through my heart before reading the rest of the information. When I reach the bottom, my head snaps up to meet Marcus’ gaze. “You’re sure about this?” I ask sharply.
He nods. “One hundred percent,” he says quietly. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but...”
I shake my head, silently telling him to stop as I realize the implications of what all this means. No, it’s not what I want to hear, and I swear to God, if something happens to her...
Tossing the folder onto the table, I jerk to my feet. “We need to get to the bottom of this,” I say determinedly, pacing the room. “They’ve gone too fucking far this time, Marcus, and I can’t sit around much longer waiting for something to happen.”
Young Lies (Young Series) Page 28