She Made It, Then Dumped Me novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Frozen

Investigators name Wesley in a laundering inquiry while Sonia cries on TV and the surgeon gives him until Friday to pay. The fan who nearly killed his father won't pay a cent, and then Sonia calls with an offer.

Two investigators found me in the ICU waiting room at seven the next morning.

One of them put a folder on my knee.

"Mr. Thornton, you're the subject of a money laundering inquiry. We need you to stay in the city and answer questions."

"I haven't done anything."

"Then it will clear," the other one said, and did not look like he believed it.

Every account I owned stayed frozen while they dug.

That included the one my father's treatment ran through.

A nurse brought me a paper cup of water and told me not to worry about the bill until the end of the day.

She had read about me online, and she was kind anyway.

My phone showed the story before I could stop looking.

Wesley Thornton Under Investigation For Laundering Millions.

Beneath it, a photo from the awards night, with my face caught at the exact second the deposit arrived.

Sonia sat on a morning show couch an hour later.

She had a blanket across her knees, and a tissue folded in one hand.

"I never wanted it to come to this," she told the host. "He's very controlling. He did terrible things to me and to Jace."

The host put a hand on her arm.

"But he did help us once, a long time ago," Sonia said. "I'll always remember that."

She let that sink in.

Every viewer now thought I was a monster who had once been generous, and nobody could call her a liar.

Jace sat beside her.

His eyes were red again.

"I can't stop asking myself if this is my fault," he said. "If I had never fallen for her, would any of this be happening?"

Sonia gripped his hand.

"None of this is your fault," she said.

The camera pushed in on their hands.

By noon the photo of that grip was the number one image on the internet.

Under it, a hundred thousand strangers had written the same sentence.

Protect them.

I put the phone face down on my knee.

Behind the glass, my father slept with a tube taped to his mouth and a monitor counting each beat of his heart.

The surgeon came out in the afternoon.

"He's stable," she said. "But the damage from yesterday means he needs a procedure this week, then a month of intensive care."

"How much?"

She told me.

It was more than the house I grew up in.

"Mr. Thornton, I have to be honest. If the deposit isn't paid by Friday, we'll have to move him to a general ward."

"He'll die in a general ward."

"I know."

She said it quietly.

I walked down to the billing desk and put Sonia's ten thousand on the deposit.

The woman behind the glass counted it twice and wrote the receipt by hand.

Fifty thousand still stood on the sheet.

She did not say how many days that bought him.

I did not ask.

I called my lawyer on the second phone.

He told me the fan had been charged with assault, and that his own lawyer had already sent over a letter.

"They won't pay a cent toward the medical bills," he said. "The fan says he'd rather sit in jail. His group is raising money for him. He's a hero to them."

"They stopped my father's heart for a live stream."

"I know, Wes. I'm saying there's nothing there to collect."

I hung up and stared at the wall.

My friends had pooled four thousand dollars by evening.

Two of them were crying when they handed it over.

It was kind, and it would not even cover one day.

I sat on the floor of the hallway, with my back against the cold wall.

All around me were machines doing their quiet work, and for the first time since the awards I couldn't think of one thing to do.

My first phone buzzed against the tile.

The screen said: Sonia.

I let it ring four times.

Then I picked it up.

"Wes," she said, in the soft voice she used when she wanted something. "I heard about your dad."

"You heard."

"I'm so sorry. I really am. I didn't want any of that to happen."

"Your fans did it."

"They got carried away."

I closed my eyes.

"I can help," she said. "I'll pay his bills. All of them, the deposit, the surgery, the month after."

I said nothing.

"I just need one thing from you first," she said. "I need you to record a video. You say you pressured me into being with you for six years, and that you're sorry."

Her voice was still gentle.

"Say it nicely, Wes. And your father gets his bed."

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