“I haven’t forgotten.” But my voice wavers.
“Haven’t you?” He watches me with those eyes that suddenly don’t look warm anymore. “Tell me about Grant’s offshore accounts. Which banks? What countries?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Tell me about his criminal associates. Who’s he working with?”
“I’m still figuring that out.”
“Tell me about their money laundering operations. How are they moving cash?”
“Robert, I need more time?—”
“You’ve had time!” His hand slams on the table, making silverware jump. Several people turn to look. He plasters on a smile until they look away, then leans across the table. “I’ve been patient. I’ve given you space. But I need results, Samantha. Real results.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Are you? Or are you too busy falling in love with the people you’re supposed to be destroying?”
I can’t answer.
His expression shifts into something cold. Something I’ve never seen before. “I should have known this would happen. You’re too soft. Too emotional. Just like your mother.”
“Don’t talk about my mother.”
“Why not? She’s the reason you’re here. The reason you agreed to this in the first place.” He sits back, and his mask is completely gone now. The warm, caring stepfather has vanished, replaced by someone I don’t recognize. “Or have you forgotten what the Hales did to her?”
“I haven’t forgotten. They destroyed her business. Destroyed her.”
“Is that what you think happened?” He laughs, sharp and bitter. “God, you really believed everything I told you, didn’t you?”
My blood goes cold. “What?”
“Your mother’s business. Grant destroying it. All of it.” He’s watching me like I’m a lab experiment. “I made it up, sweetheart. Every word.”
The restaurant spins. “No. You showed me documents. Evidence?—”
“I showed you carefully edited evidence designed to make you hate the Hales.” He signals the waiter for another drink. “Your mother’s clothing company was failing long before Grant got involved. She was hemorrhaging money. Making terrible decisions. The business was dead, she just wouldn’t admit it.”
“You’re lying.”
“I married your mother to access that business. Needed a front for some money laundering operations. A failing clothing company was perfect.” He says it so casually, like he’s discussing the weather. “When it became too much of a liability, I used it to pay off some gambling debts. To Grant’s organization, actually. Full circle.”
I can’t breathe. Can’t process what he’s saying.
“Your mother died of cancer. That part is true. But the stress didn’t kill her. The cancer killed her. It had nothing to do with the Hales.” He takes a drink of his wine. “I just convinced you it did. Shaped your grief into rage and pointed you at them like a weapon.”
“Why?” The word comes out broken. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I needed someone on the inside. Someone they’d trust. Someone who could get close enough to gather real intelligence.” He leans forward again. “I’ve been working with an organization trying to take down Grant Hale for years. We needed an inside source. You were perfect. Young. Grieving. Desperate for purpose. I orchestrated your entire relationship with Logan. Made sure you’d end up at that estate.”
The truth crashes over me in waves.
Everything I believed. Everything I thought I knew. All of it was lies.
“You used me.” My voice sounds distant. “You used my grief. Used my mother’s death.”
“I gave you purpose,” he corrects. “Before me, you were drowning in depression. I gave you a mission. A reason to keep going.”
