Page 27 of Oblivion

According to the background check Bastian did on Sammy and her family back when Sammy and Starling first became friends, Sammy’s mom is originally from a town near Savannah, Georgia. Her family owned a small plantation, and according to some research, Sammy’s parents’ marriage was arranged to try to bring wealth back to the Hartleys’ dwindling family fortune.

Despite it not starting as a love match, they’ve been married for over thirty years and seem, at least on paper, to be very happy together. Although not as wealthy as they once were, the Hartleys have a great reputation, and Sammy’s dad’s business success has refilled a lot of the family’s coffers. From what I’ve found out so far, if his business continues to flourish, then in a couple of generations, the Hartley name could be back where it once was in terms of wealth and prestige.

After some encouragement from her mom, Sammy gets behind the wheel of the new Tesla and drives away, returning five minutes later and pulling into the driveway beside the BMW she was using yesterday.

Sammy’s smile is very clearly fake, and I scoff lightly as I try to figure out how to get rid of her new boring car and replace it with something I’ve bought for her.

The next few days pass in relative peace and quiet. The BMW is parked in the garage, and Sammy starts driving the Tesla, a now familiar disappointment flashing across her face every time she sees the car.

The night the car arrived, I let myself into her bedroom and uploaded the program Clay sent me to her cell and synced it with mine. Now, every time her cell rings, so does mine, and when she answers, I hear every word that’s spoken both by Sammy and the person she’s talking to. Her texts, both incoming and outgoing, appear on my cell, and I have access to her internet history every time she looks at a website or searches for anything.

It’s a gross invasion of her privacy, but I just don’t care. Her life is mine now. Her business is my business, her worries are my worries, and this way, I’ll know what she needs without her having to tell me she needs it.

Two nights ago, I removed some of the preppy clothes she’s been wearing and replaced them with things that I’ve had made for her. As much as I’d rather she dress like she does in Cali, I know that filling her closet with miniskirts and sexy dresses would be a waste of time. So, instead, I found designers who make classic, conservative but sexy clothes and commissioned some things for her.

So far, I’ve left her new jeans, a couple of dresses, some shirts, a new coat, and a sexy,Mad Men-inspired skirt that I can’t wait to see her in. Every single thing I’ve gifted her has my monogram on it at least a dozen times. Every time she wears them, she’s covering herself with my name.

I also took some of her shoes and replaced them with beautiful new pairs, all adorned with—you guessed it—my initials. I actually considered taking the string of pearls she’s worn every day since I got here and changing them for a string with my monogram on, but I decided against it. I overheard her tell Starling once that even though she hates the idea of being the type of woman who wears pearls, she still loves that the ones she owns have been worn by several generations of her family before her.

Instead, I swapped out the emerald earrings for a pair of black and white diamond ones, putting the emeralds into her empty jewelry box.

Soon, everything she wears and owns will have my name on it, each item capturing her with yet another barely visible strand of chain.

By the time Drew returns, I’d almost forgotten he was even in the picture. Apart from daily good morning and good night texts, they haven’t spoken, exchanged dirty photos, or done anything that would hint at them missing the other while they aren’t together.

The lack of contact feels strange to me. If Sammy were mine, I doubt I’d be able to go more than an hour without speaking to her. There’s definitely no way I’d care about spending four days in the woods with a group of wannabe politicians when I could be balls deep in my girl, keeping her full of my cum and drunk on orgasms.

After the first two days with little to no contact, I got curious about who Drewwaskeeping in contact with, so I arranged for Clay’s cloning program to be put on his cell too. It turns out that Drew is way more boring than I expected. While he wasn’t talking to his fiancée, he was talking to his mom, his dad, and his PR team, who are all very excited about how his potential ratings will be affected by his engagement and subsequent marriage.

The decision to buy Sammy a new car was decided after careful discussion with his PR team and after some polling was done on constituents in the town where Drew’s dad is currently the mayor.

Sammy’s upcoming transfer to Harvard, their decision that she would major in English literature, live with Drew’s cousin, and the delay of their wedding until after they’ve both graduated have all been minutely dissected and polled multiple times.

It’s bizarre to me that Drew is planning his and Sammy’s future based almost entirely on the opinions of the people he’s hoping will elect him as mayor when his dad decides to step down from his post.

Not once has he asked my wild one for her input. Instead, he’s discussed it with his dad, his PR team, and even a friend of his dad’s who was the lieutenant governor for the state of Idaho a few years ago.

Drew is planninghisfuture, and much like the step-by-step plans he’s made to help him climb the political ladder, Sammy is just an item he’s checked off his to-do list, alongside his planned internship for next summer and his intention to volunteer for the next county government’s election campaign.

The realization that Drew doesn’t want Sammy because she’s Sammy, and simply because she comes from the right kind of family and will produce the right kind of kids—two boys, followed by two girls—selected in a lab from the eggs he already plans to have Sammy freeze, is mind-blowing to me.

Not once in all the conversations he’s had about his future has he ever spoken about Sammy as anything more than a pretty prop to stand at his side. His team has all agreed that once she graduates Harvard they should get married and immediately start making babies.

Sammy said she wanted to leave Kingsacre because she needs to actually find a job one day, but according to Drew’s plans, Sammy’s only job will be arm candy and baby factory. Beyond that, his team has decided that her dedicating her life to supporting him is the only job she’ll ever require.

Finding out all of this information has confirmed my assumption that by removing Drew from her life, I won’t be ending a life-altering love story for Sammy. This has also lessened some of the guilt I’d felt when I first decided to take my wild one from her fiancé. Now I know how much he doesn’tdeserve her. All of my reservations about breaking them up have gone. I just have to decide how much of a bang I want to make when I implode their relationship and steal her for myself.

15

SAMMY

My brittle smile is starting to crack by the time I close my bedroom door in my new house in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The house that Eloise—Drew’s cousin—has been living in for the last three months is a cute three-bed, three-bath house about a twenty-minute walk from the Harvard campus, situated on a quiet residential street full of families and young professionals.

The siding is painted a gray color, and the front door is a complementary shade of anthracite, covered with a small porch. My bedroom has white walls, a king-sized bed with pale-gray sheets, and a decent-sized closet. There’s a desk beneath the window with a gray leather chair and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

My things have all been unpacked and neatly stored, and in theory, this place should feel like home, but it doesn’t. After the last of my things were hung in the closet, Drew, Eloise, my parents, and Drew’s parents and I all went out for dinner. From there, Drew’s and my parents left for the airport, Eloise headed for the library for a study group, and Drew kissed me on the cheek, told me he loved me, then got in his car and went home.

Lowering myself to sit on the bed, I glance around the room and can’t help feeling like I’m living someone else’s life. This is my first night here, and instead of spending time with my fiancé or getting to know my new housemate, I’m alone, in a strange house, in a strange town, wishing I was in California with my friends.

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