Page 120 of The Love You Fight For
“You have a lot of nerve coming in here after the stunt you pulled,” he says, his voice low and menacing.
Sam smiles.
“But, Daddy, you always said how important it is to follow through on all your endeavors. I thought you’d be proud.”
“It won’t work,” he snaps. “No one will buy any of your little tantrum tonight. It’s only served to make you a pariah. No one will touch you now. You’re done. You’re cut off. You’ll be on the street for this. No one is going to believe a word of it.”
Sam’s eyes scan over her father in the silence. He’s panting and sweating with nerves, but she’s calm. Her brow furrows slightly, and then she tilts her head to the side.
“You think I did this on a whim? You think you’re here because Ithrew a tantrum?”
She takes two steps closer to him, and he leans back in his seat like what he sees on her face scares him.
Good.
He should be fucking terrified. It’s about time he recognizes her for what she is. A fucking queen.
Sam puts her palms on the table across from him and leans in.
“Father, you are never beating this. The evidence they have on you? It’s iron-clad. It’sbeyonddamning. It’s ruinous. I know because I keepmeticulousrecords, and I’ve been collecting them on you for a decade.”
Goose bumps rise on my flesh as she speaks, at the raw power emanating from her. I’m in awe, and all I can do is listen as she lays waste to her enemies.
“Everything, Father. Everysinglething. Your tax records. Your bank statements. Your wires overseas. Your clandestine cigar parties with other sick, lecherous, twisted fucks like yourself. I got all of it. Every bribe. Every payoff. Everything. All of it. What you did to meis terrible. Horrible. I hope you burn for eternity because of it, but it’s not even a fraction of the shit they’re about to throw at you. You, Judge Cartwright, and probably ten of your other buddies? You’re all fucked.”
Sam’s father’s face is ghostly pale—a sickening shade of white and gray—as he stares at her with wide, shocked eyes.
“But I’m just a scared, fragile, helpless little girl, right? I’m no one to worry about. I’m only good for selling and breeding and being used. Isn’t that what you said? I couldn’t possibly be a threat, right? Right, Father?”
She stands back to her full height and looks down her nose at him. She waits for him to respond, and his mouth drops open twice before he finally speaks.
“You bitch,” he forces out, his voice shaking. “You conniving little snake. You’re a fucking monster.”
She huffs a small, satisfied laugh and nods.
“Yes. That’s right. How does it feel to be ruined by your own creation?”
She grabs my hand once more and glances at the guard. He lets us out of the room just as her father starts screaming profanities at our backs.
“That sounded like it went well,” Agent Sexton says with an arched brow as we step back into the hallway.
Sam takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She leans into my side, so I release her hand and pull her under my arm.
“Yeah,” she says. “I guess you could say it went well.”
Agent Sexton escorts us back to my car, then tells Sam she’ll be in touch before we’re sent on our way. Sam asks me to take her back to her condo, so I do, and when we step into her foyer, I find a single suitcase waiting.
She smiles at me.
“I probably only have a few more hours before they realize my father’s accounts are frozen, and I’m evicted.”
She grabs the handle of the suitcase, but then I raise a playful brow and take the handle from her. She laughs and rolls her eyes.
“Will you come back for the rest?” I ask, and she snorts.
“Fuck the rest. I already took the shoes. Everything else, they can box and donate. I don’t care.”
I follow her back to the elevator.
