Willow made another attempt to walk away, but George moved to block her once again. “Take it! Take the money!” he pleaded, going into a panic. “And then I’ll never bother you or your mom, ever again! I just need to do this, or else I’ll never be able to forgive myself! If you won’t accept my money, I’ll take that to mean I still have a chance for us to become a family together again!”
Willow halted, her expression darkening at these words. George pressed the card into her hand, saying, “Take it, and we’ll go right back to being strangers again—just like you said.”
And then he turned away, and headed back towards his room.
Willow’s fingers tightened around that card, which seemed to singe her hand. She couldn’t discard it; but neither did she want to hold on to it.
She watched George hobble back into his room, a wretched and miserable figure.
Twenty-seven years she’d been deprived of a father’s love. At that thought, her nose stung with imminent tears.
She squeezed the card with impotent ire, before stuffing it into her pocket at last.
Willow brought Samantha and her mother downstairs just as the rental car arrived for them. She loaded Samantha’s luggage into the trunk, then said to her, “Since you’re headed back to the Nason Village, I won’t be accompanying you.”
Samantha sneered at the rental car. “Didn’t I hear that your company lent you the use of a BMW? An empty boast from Aunt Lara, I suppose. I don’t understand why she’d make up such a childish tale… don’t tell me it was for the sake of appearances? It’s not like anyone cares that you’ve got no money.”
Every word that issued from Samantha’s mouth was dripping with venom and malice.
Willow was now a volcano on the verge of a violent eruption. She’d come to see her at the hospital, even called a car for her… it was more than she deserved! And yet, rather than expressing gratitude, Samantha was taking a stab at her?!
Such scoundrels ought to be vanquished with extreme prejudice.
With a cackle, Willow replied, “BMW is a classy brand, and their cars are only fit for people with class. Considering the foul stench coming out of your mouth, I’d be loathe to let you deposit your other end upon the seats…”
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