"Constance, move out of the way..." My voice was shaking.
That was when a large hand grabbed the back of my collar and threw me to the ground.
It was Clement.
"Cecily! What the hell is wrong with you? It's just a piece of junk pen. Are you trying to shake Connie down for it?"
Constance leaned close to my ear. "Cecily, are you really this pathetic? You committed fraud just to chase after a man, and now you're pulling this? You make me sick."
Looking at my grandfather's keepsake shattered across the floor, I felt a rage I couldn't contain.
I couldn't hold back any longer. I shot to my feet and swung with every ounce of strength I had, aiming a slap straight at her face.
Clement caught my wrist mid-swing.
He was livid, shoving me hard. "You crazy bitch, you think you can hit someone?!"
The force of his push sent me stumbling backward. My back slammed into one of the lobby pillars, and pain exploded through my ribs and spine, so sharp it stole the breath from my lungs.
Constance threw herself into Clement's arms, her face the picture of wounded innocence.
"Clem, I didn't mean to step on her pen. And she tried to hit me."
"I was so scared."
Clement immediately stroked her hair, his voice soft and soothing. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm right here. She wouldn't dare hurt you."
Those words sounded so familiar.
Sophomore year. We'd been walking back to campus after one of his part-time shifts. It was already dark, and a group of guys started hassling us on the road.
He'd held me just like that, held me tight while I cried, ignoring the bruise already blooming at the corner of his own mouth, stroking my hair as he whispered:
"Don't be scared, Cece. I'm right here. I'll shield you from every storm. I won't let anyone hurt you. Not if God himself comes knocking."
But today, the storm was him.
A crowd had gathered around us, rubberneckers who fed on other people's misery.
"The fraud's got some nerve trying to hit people. Guess she's lashing out because she got caught."
"Right? Constance didn't even do anything, and she almost got slapped."
"I've worked with Constance before. She's gorgeous, kind, great personality. How does someone like that end up dealing with someone like this?"
I couldn't afford to care about the whispers. I swallowed the searing pain in my chest and my bleeding fingers and crawled toward the scattered remains of my pen and notebook.
Clement noticed. He strode over.
"What is this thing? It's not company secrets from one of the businesses here, is it? After all, you're the kind of person who forges billing notices."
"Give it to me!"
"No. It's my personal property." I clutched the notebook tighter against my chest.
All my grandfather had left me was that pen and this notebook. The pen was already gone.
Clement grabbed the notebook with one hand and shoved me down with the other.
I wasn't as strong as he was. The notebook was ripped from my arms.
He flipped it open and glanced through the pages.
"What is this garbage? Self-help quotes? A how-to guide for scamming people? The thing's falling apart. What, is fraud the family business?"
"Cecily, how did I never see what kind of person you really are?"
"I must've been blind to ever fall for you."
He tore the notebook to shreds and flung the pieces in my face.
I felt my heart bleed. The last thing my grandfather had left me was gone.
Yeah. How was I ever so blind?
The tears came, and I couldn't stop them.
Every tear was water that had flooded my brain the day I fell for him. Now it was draining out, and my mind was finally clearing.
I thought of the investigation I'd recently asked Thomas Dickerson to conduct, the matter of the twenty million dollars I'd once invested in Clement.
My hand slipped quietly into my pocket and pressed the switch on the voice recorder.
My father had taught me: always keep evidence. Tenants came in all types, so I always carried it when I went to collect rent.
Clement looked pleased with himself right now. I was certain I could get him talking.
