Someone like Bryce.

My phone rings again and I huff in annoyance. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that. I’m afraid one of these days I’ll cave. Looking down, I see it’s my mother.

“Hey, Mom,” I answer.

“Have you seen the news?” she asks.

“No . . .” I draw out.

“Cal’s mother committed suicide.”

“What?” I’m beyond shocked. I quickly find the remote and turn on the news. Sure enough, there it is. “Hold on, I’m watching it now,” I tell her.

“This just in. Grace Fitzgerald, the mother of the late Senator Callahan Fitzgerald, has killed herself. Reports say that she hung herself in the bedroom of her mansion,” the news anchor says.

My hand goes to my mouth. “Oh my God.” I continue listening.

“As you know, Senator Fitzgerald is at the center of a huge corruption investigation linking him to the Los Malvados Cartel. He was shot and killed by his wife, Elizabeth Fitzgerald. No charges were filed against her and the DA ruled it a justifiable homicide. It is not yet clear why Grace Fitzgerald took her life, but sources close to the family blame it on the investigation. They claim that the embarrassment was too much for her to take and speculate that’s why she ended her life. We’ll keep you posted as more updates roll in.” I turn the television off.

“I can’t believe she’d do that,” I say.

“Yeah, I thought it was shocking too.”

The news report left out something, though. It took the district attorney a month to investigate Cal’s murder and clear me of all charges. I was a nervous wreck the whole time, afraid his family’s influence would push them to charge me with murder. Once that was closed, Cal’s attorney contacted me and his mother and said we needed to be present so he could read his will. To my surprise and his mother’s horror, he left everything to me except the steel company.

A steel company that was basically worthless. No one knew this, but the only contract Cal had was with Henry Williams’ shipping company. He was going to lose it, so he made a deal with the devil, so to speak. He blocked trading bills that would allow searches of all ships coming in and out of U.S. ports in exchange for his lucrative business. Apparently, all of this was well documented by Cal and was obtained by the FBI. That’s what the reports are saying anyway.

Grace flew into a fit of rage claiming I shouldn’t get a dime since I murdered him in cold blood. It doesn’t matter that the facts show otherwise.

I thought a lot about why Cal would do that. It’s not like he cared about my well-being while he was alive. I can’t imagine he gave a damn when he died. The only thing I could conclude went right back to the election, as almost everything in our lives did. He was worried someone would find out that he left nothing to his wife during the election. Politicians are vicious people and will look for any kind of dirt possible. Yeah, that stuff is supposed to be confidential, but juicy information is always leaked. And how would it look if the next President of the United States had cut his wife out of his will?

First thing I did once the will was read was put the house on the market. I didn’t want that gigantic thing to begin with and had no use for it now. I debated donating all of the money I had inherited to charity. It made me feel gross. It was tainted by the things Cal had done. Actually, I was surprised the Feds didn’t confiscate it. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it. For now, it sits untouched in a separate account.

“Elizabeth, are you listening to me?” my mother scolds, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’ve talked to Bryce yet.”

I let out a deep sigh. “No, mother.” It’s the same thing every time I talk to her.

“I know you don’t like to hear it, and I’m not saying run back to him. I just think you should hear the man out.” I told her what had happened between us and now she’s Team Bryce.

Traitor.

“I know you do, Mom, but there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Okay, okay. I’m not going to push,” she says. I roll my eyes. This is what she calls not pushing? “I love you.”

“I love you too and I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up the phone and start picking up around the apartment.

Our relationship has improved significantly. It took me a while to muster up the courage, but I finally expressed my true feelings to her. I didn’t realize how the anger and resentment I was holding on to was affecting me. I know I always had choices. No one twisted my arm and made me stay with Cal, but a part of me hated her for planting and nurturing the seed in my head that told me I needed to marry a wealthy guy. I hated her for feeling trapped in that marriage for fear of letting her down. It killed me to admit the latter because her health was at stake, but I was so unhappy and I felt like she didn’t give a damn.

She broke down. I guess she really didn’t understand how hard it was for me even though I felt like I’d tried talking to her. Once everything was laid out there, I began to understand her motives behind it. She never had money. Not growing up and certainly not with my dad. She thought that money solved everything and was a key element to happiness. Of course, I can attest to the fact that that’s a bunch of bullshit, but she had no clue. She had good intentions and really just wanted the best for me. After that, a huge burden had been lifted from my shoulders and I learned to forgive her. Things are better than ever between us. She’s still in remission and we’re continuing to build the mother-daughter bond that was lost for some time.

Flopping down onto the couch, I look around until my eyes land on a box. It’s small and sits off in the corner of a bookshelf. Not able to resist the urge, I get up and open it. Nestled inside is the necklace Bryce gave me. The last thing I have that ties him to me other than my memories.

I take it out and slide it over my head. A tear falls from my eye as I look at it lying on my chest. Squeezing them shut, I take a deep breath and push my emotions down. It hurts so damn bad sometimes. The pain almost crippling where I can’t think of anything but him.

Why? Why couldn’t you just tell me the truth when I started to fall for you?

My resolve is failing. I feel it. I don’t know how much longer I can push him away. I miss him. I need him. And as much as he hurt me, I know he didn’t do it intentionally. But is this something I can move past? Will I be able to trust that he’ll never lie to me again?

I don’t know. And that might be the scariest part of it all.

BRYCE

I PULL UP to a modest home in a small town. An old Cutlass sits in the driveway, having seen its better days. A well-manicured garden lines the front of an otherwise plain, single-story house. To say I’m nervous is a gross understatement. A lot rides on this and it’s my last shot. If this fails, I have nowhere else to turn.

Reaching my hand up, I knock on the door and wait. My sweaty palms rub down the front of my pants. Finally, the door opens. “Hi, can I help you?” A petite woman asks.

“I hope so. Are you Mrs. Montgomery?” I know she is. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere. They’re the same as Elizabeth’s.

Her eyebrows dip in curiosity. “Yes,” she says hesitantly.

I hold my hand out to her. “You don’t know me, ma’am, but I’m Bryce Daniels.”

She shakes my hand. “Oh, I know who you are.” Releasing my hand, she crosses her arms over her chest protectively.

“Would it be a bother if I came in and talked to you for a minute?”

She ponders my request for a moment or so and finally relents. “Sure, come on in.”

She leads me to her living room where we have a seat on the couch. A tall, brooding man, who I assume is Elizabeth’s dad, enters the room. I stand back up and hold my hand out to him. “Hi, sir, I’m Bryce Daniels. You must be Mr. Montgomery.”