PART 3
I arrived at the downtown café early. Everything was clean and expensive. I was wearing my simple prison clothes and worn-out shoes. People looked at me with curiosity.
At ten o’clock, Samantha Dalton walked in. She didn’t act like a rich, untouchable heiress. She walked right up to me and hugged me tightly.
“Summer,” she said with a warm smile. “Finally, we can talk without bars and guards.”
We sat down, and she placed a blue folder in front of me.
“Before we talk about this, I want to know how you are,” Samantha said.
I trusted her quickly because she treated me like a real person. I told her everything about the door, the alcohol, my room, the forty dollars, and the changed house deeds. Samantha listened quietly, then clenched her teeth.
“Your family doesn’t deserve your silence,” she said.
“My silence was the last thing I gave them,” I replied.
She opened the folder.
“My dad and I looked into your case,” Samantha said. “We know the details don’t add up. We know you took the blame because of family pressure.”
I felt a chill.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“Because we care about you,” Samantha explained. “A person who risks her life in a fire to save a stranger is not a bad criminal. The Dalton Foundation is starting a program to help women after prison. We want you to be the CEO.”
I blinked in shock.
“Me?”
“Yes,” Samantha smiled. “You’ll have a great salary, a nice apartment, a company car, and a team. We want someone who truly understands what it means to lose everything and keep going.”
The coffee arrived, but my hands were shaking too much to touch it.
“Your dad already gave me ten million dollars,” I said. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“That money was gratitude,” Samantha said. “This job is trust.”
For the first time in two years, I felt like myself again.
“When do I start?” I asked.
“Today, if you want,” she replied.
That afternoon, I saw my new apartment on the fifteenth floor. It had huge windows, a white living room, and a beautiful view of the city. I touched the clean furniture, afraid it would vanish. The day before, my family wouldn’t even give me an old bed. Now, I had a beautiful home.
The next day, Mr. Raymond Dalton greeted me with a handshake at his office.
“Welcome, Summer,” the older man said. “This office is your home now.”
Our meeting lasted three hours. The project was huge. They wanted to provide job training, therapy, legal help, and a shelter for women with nowhere to go.
