Chapter 10 - The Beggar’s Plea
I reached into my bag and pulled out the old,
yellowed paper I had found at the very bottom of the metal box.
It wasn't a deed.
It wasn't a trust.
It was a confession.
It was a letter written by Gavin’s father,
twenty years ago,
before he "disappeared."
"To Loretta,"
it began.
"I know Harriet and Gavin think I’m gone,"
"but they don't know I left you the proof of their first embezzlement."
"The money they stole from the construction fund."
"If they ever hurt you or Samantha,"
"use this to put them where they belong."
"In a cell."
Gavin reached for the paper,
but Elias blocked his path.
I watched as Gavin read the first few lines,
his eyes widening as he realized the magnitude of his father’s betrayal.
The document detailed every cent they had stolen,
every account they had laundered,
and every person they had ruined to build their "Midtown life."
It was enough to send them both to prison for the rest of their lives.
Gavin fell to his knees,
the same way I had fallen on that cold night at two in the morning.
"Samantha, please,"
he begged,
his voice a pathetic whimper.
"Don't do this."
"I’ll give you the divorce,"
"I’ll give you the apartment,"
"I’ll give you everything!"
"Just don't go to the police."
Harriet was weeping now,
her silk robe looking like a shroud.
"We’re family, Samantha,"
she sobbed.
"Loretta wouldn't want this."
"My mother died because you locked me in a room,"
I reminded her,
my voice as hard as stone.
"She died while you were laughing about her 'bad luck'."
"You didn't care about family then."
"And I don't care about you now."
I turned to Elias.
"Call the lawyer,"
I said.
"And then call the police."
I walked out of the dining room,
listening to the sound of Gavin’s begging echoing through the hallway.
It was a beautiful sound.
It was the sound of justice.
I walked out of the apartment for the last time,
leaving the ghosts and the vultures behind.
I drove to the cemetery in Macon,
bringing a bouquet of fresh lilies.
I sat by my mother’s grave,
the sun warm on my back.
"It’s done, Mom,"
I whispered,
placing the flowers on the grass.
"The box is open."
"The secret is out."
"And I’m finally free."
I looked up at the sky,
feeling the weight of five years finally lifting from my shoulders.
I was Samantha Vance.
I was a homeowner.
I was a millionaire.
And I would never,
ever,
May you like
be locked in a storage room again.
The end.
