TWO MONTHS AGO...
"What are you saying? That doesn't make any sense!" Samantha shouted at her father.
Shock and fear pulsed through her mind so fast it felt like a camera flash. She stared into the eyes of the man she loved most in this world, unable to fathom the reason behind his knife-cutting, heart-wrenching words. Didn't he care? Did he even realize what he was doing to her?
She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, glaring at him as she tried to speak, but the words wouldn't form. Her hands trembled, so she tightened them into fists. There was no way she was going to show weakness.
The Joneses were not weak.
Mustering all her strength, she half-screamed, half-cried, "I don't want to do this. This is bullshit!" Samantha gripped her red hair in frustration.
"Why are you so stubborn?" Frederick shouted back.
She couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. This was her father, the man who was supposed to have her best interests at heart. And yet, here he was, tearing her apart with words she never thought she'd hear in this lifetime.
She stood in one of the three living rooms of their multi-million-dollar New York home. Her mother, India Jones, had loved this house at first sight, convincing Frederick that buying it was the perfect decision. That was twenty-two years ago.
India had handpicked every piece of furniture, every plate, cup, bedsheet, sculpture, and painting. She had made this place a home. Not much had changed in the years since, even after she had passed away just five years later. Her memory was in every corner of the house.
Why was she thinking about home decorations right now? Maybe because her father's words made her remember her mother, and she knew that if her mother were alive, this would never happen.
"I'm talking to you. Are you even listening to me?"
Samantha snapped out of her thoughts to see her father glaring at her. Wasn't this the same man who had always let her do whatever she wanted? The man who protected her from anyone who tried to hurt her?
Yet, he was the one twisting the knife in her heart now.
"I'm talking to you!" Frederick snapped restlessly. "Are you pretending you can't hear me?"
"Can't I do that?" Samantha scoffed defiantly. "Do you think you can just tell me what you want, and I'll fall in line? It doesn't work like that!"
She grabbed her Chanel bag from the couch and stormed toward the door.
"Do you think you can just leave?" Frederick yelled after her. "You'll regret it if you walk out that door. I swear, you will regret it!"
Samantha halted. Her fingers tightened around the leather straps of her bag. Then, without thinking, she spun around, threw the bag to the ground, and marched back toward him.
"What will I regret?" she scoffed. "That I lived long enough to see my father disappoint me?"
Frederick closed his eyes, frustration evident in the heavy sigh he let out. He ran a hand down his face, staggered slightly, and sank into a chair. At that moment, he looked older than fifty-eight.
"You wanted me to listen. Well, I'm all ears. Speak."
Frederick rubbed his forehead. "Both families have already agreed to this marriage, Samantha." He let out another sigh. "You have to accept it."
Samantha's mouth fell open in shock. Just when she thought she had heard the worst, another bomb dropped. And the bombs just kept dropping.
She looked into her father's eyes and saw something unexpected: Despair. He looked like he was pleading for her understanding.
"You're not doing anyone a favor by agreeing to marry Dave Rice. This is the best thing that could ever happen to you," Frederick explained dismissively. "He's rich, from a prestigious family, and a good man. You will marry Dave, and I don't want to hear any other complaints."
Samantha hadn't meant to laugh, but she couldn't stop herself. She clutched her sides as tears fell from her eyes, her entire body shaking with laughter.
"And what's so funny?" her father asked.
"I'm twenty-four." She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
Frederick shrugged. "I know how old you are."
"I don't think you do. Because if you did, you wouldn't be treating me like a child who can't make her own decisions." She continued laughing. "I'm a grown-ass woman, but you suddenly became oblivious to that fact, FATHER!"
"Since you're such a grown-up and know everything," Frederick said sarcastically, "Why don't you tell me why I'm trying to get you married to Dave?"
"I...what?"
"You didn't even bother to ask why. You're too busy playing the victim. Just do as you're told, and everything will be fine."
Samantha's anger faltered for a moment. Her father was a good man. He wouldn't be doing this without a reason. Maybe she should try to understand him—
"Shut up!" she shouted suddenly, waving her hands as if to shake off the intrusive thought physically. Her hand knocked over a decorative china pot, sending it crashing to the floor.
Frederick's eyes widened in disbelief. "What... what did you just say to me?"
She hadn't been talking to him, but she was too angry to explain. To explain that, she was telling her mind to shut it.
"Are you emotionally blackmailing me into marrying a man I don't even know?" she accused, her voice trembling with fury. Did her father just guilt trip her into thinking she was the bad daughter and that she should try to understand him?
"Blackmail?" Frederick scoffed. "You're my daughter! You should do as I say! Do I have to beg my own daughter? Are you serious right now?"
Tears welled in Samantha's eyes despite her best efforts to hold them back. Her body shook as she tried to suppress the sobs threatening to break free.
Frederick sighed and stepped closer, pulling her into a soft embrace. "Shhh, stop crying."
Her body shook under his touch even more. This was the father she had always known. The scent, the warmth, the safety of his arm.
"I am sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you. But, Samantha, baby, you have to marry Dave," he whispered gently against her hair. "Pumpkin, I'm doing this for you. Can't you see that?"
Samantha froze in his arms. For a second, she had thought things could change. But she had been mistaken.
She pulled away, shaking her head. "The best thing for me? How is marrying that troublemaker the best thing for me? Marriage hasn't even crossed my mind, but you're pushing me into the arms of a man the media calls The Troublemaker, DAD!"
"It is the best thing for you."
"No, it's not. Who are you? Are you even my father? This isn't about me. You just want a billionaire's son as an in-law!"
"And that is not a bad thing," Frederick sighed. "If you marry Dave, it will save our company. We're in debt, Samantha. Since you're going to inherit it, this is the best thing for you, too."
Samantha blinked. "Debt? What do you mean?"
Frederick swallowed hard, guilt filling his face. He turned away.
Samantha placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to face her. "I asked you a question, Dad. Which debt? Last I checked, the company was fine."
"I-"
"Dad, answer the question." Fear filled her voice.
"Don't worry about all that. The Rice Family has accepted you as their daughter-in-law. You just need to marry Dave."
"Just answer my question, eh?" Samantha's eyes clicked. "Did you borrow money for the project? You didn't, right?"
He sighed again. "I did."
"Dad," Samantha's voice shook. It was filled with dread. "How m-much?"
"Six hundred million dollars," he admitted.
Her breath hitched. "What?!"
"I will go to jail if I can't pay back."
"What?!"
She paced the room like a caged animal, her breath coming in sharp bursts. She was shaking.
"We were doing so well at our other malls. I just wanted to expand!" Frederick cried out, his voice cracking under the weight of his own failure. "I thought it would work, but then... the recession happened." His body sagged as he collapsed into the chair, burying his face in his hands.
Samantha's legs gave out, and she sank into a chair across from him. She wanted to believe she'd misheard, but the look on his face told her otherwise.
Frederick suddenly pushed himself up and walked toward the window. "James Rice is willing to pay off the company's debt," he said quietly. "But in return, he wants you to marry his son."
Samantha's eyes narrowed. "Why?" she demanded. There was something he wasn't telling her.
"Because... he thinks you're the best match for Dave," Frederick muttered, shrugging nonchalantly.
She stood, stepping into his space. "Tell me the truth. What else are you hiding? Mr. Rice has never met me. Why would he suddenly decide I'm the perfect bride for his son?"
Frederick looked away.
"I don't understand all these questions," he snapped, walking past her. "I have already told you the truth."
"And what truth is that?" Samantha's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"That you agreed to this marriage."
"Oh." Samantha stilled. "I... what?"
"You agreed," he repeated, more firmly this time. "The Rice family accepted the proposal because they believe you consented."
Her pulse roared in her ears. "What?" she whispered, as if saying it any louder would make the insanity of it all real.
"They've already set a wedding date," he added. "It's in two months."
She stared at him as though he had lost his mind. "Let me get this straight," she said slowly. "You arranged my marriage, told them I was on board, and even let them set a date... without ever speaking to me?"
Laughter bubbled out of her. Cold, sharp, and entirely out of place. It was the second time she had laughed when all she wanted to do was fall on her knees and cry.
"You know what, Dad?" She grabbed her bag, shaking her head as she strode past him. Just before reaching the door, she paused and patted his shoulder. "Since you're so good at making decisions on my behalf, why don't you go ahead and marry him for me?"
And with that, she walked out, leaving her stunned father behind.