I pulled the watch off my wrist and turned it over. On the back, barely visible, were four tiny scratches. A code.
I felt a surge of triumph. My father had truly thought of everything.
As for Charlotte, she had the house, but she also had mountains of debt. And she had just kicked out the one person who could save her from losing it all.
A few days later, Charlotte called, her voice trembling with desperation. "You knew, didn’t you?" she spat. "You have the money, don’t you?"
I smiled softly, twirling Dad’s watch on my wrist. "I might have the money," I said, "but we don’t exactly have the best history, do we?"
She was silent. "You have to help me," she pleaded.
I leaned back, savoring the moment. "I would’ve helped you, Charlotte. If you had been kinder to me. Maybe then, I’d feel bad."
