Chapter Two:
Signing Away a Dream
—
[Evening]
Cecil Rodgers is the patriarch of the Rodgers family. He was the one who propelled the Rodgers family name to prominence within the city.
Cecil's hair, once a deep chestnut, was now silver and slicked back with meticulous care, his face weathered but glowing with satisfaction. He wore an expensive tailored suit, clearly a sign of his wealth, showcasing a newfound status.
James and Janis recognized the young man immediately. He stood confidently in a tailored luxury suit that hugged his athletic frame perfectly. His features were strikingly handsome, with a strong jawline and dark, tousled hair that framed his face.
Ignoring the young man, Samson looked straight at Cecil, hoping he could help diffuse the situation. "Grandpa, you agreed to this?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.
Cecil's smile faded upon seeing the tension. "Oh, why are you here…" he said with disdain before turning to James and Janis, visibly angered. "I thought you were giving him the divorce papers today."
"We did," James pointed at the documents in Samson's hands.
"Oh…" Cecil's demeanor shifted. "You haven't signed them yet?"
"No," Samson replied, his heart racing.
Cecil pulled out an expensive-looking pen and handed it to him. "Quickly sign them and get lost," he said firmly, then turned back to Monica, his smile returning. "Monica, my dear, come greet Curtis."
Monica recognized Curtis as he entered the living room and quickly walked over to him. "Hello, Mr. Freeman. My name is Monica," she said, her tone polite, trying to present herself attractively.
"Mr. Freeman is my father," Curtis chuckled, taking her hand and kissing it gently. "Call me Curtis." Monica blushed at the gesture.
Curtis Freeman was the son of the esteemed Freeman family, known throughout the city for their wealth and influence. It was considered an honor to be in their presence.
Cecil turned to Curtis. "You weren't kidding; your granddaughter is truly a marvel to look at."
"I'm glad you agree," Cecil replied, beaming. "I can proudly say that I've talked to Hubert about Curtis and Monica marrying, and he agreed. So I brought Curtis along to see Monica. The date is set for one month from now."
Janis and James beamed with joy. "That's wonderful…" Janis said, standing up and waving for Curtis to join them. "Curtis, come here, come sit down," she gestured to the space between her and James.
As Curtis made his way over to sit down, Samson stood frozen, feeling more isolated than ever as the family dynamic shifted completely.
"Why are you doing this?" he pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice.
Cecil turned to him with a stern look. "It's because…" he paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, "you're a nobody. Just look at you." He pointed toward Curtis. "Look at him. He's the son of the Freeman family. He has power that you couldn't even dream of."
"Power that's his father's, not his," Samson snapped back, feeling fed up with the condescension. "He's been spoon-fed all his life. Has he achieved anything himself?"
"SAMSON!" James shouted, his voice cutting through the tension.
"It's alright, James," Curtis said, trying to maintain his composure.
He turned to Samson. "What have I achieved?" he asked smugly. "I'll tell you what I achieved: I started my own business at 14, which now has a net worth of £30 million."
Monica, Janis, and James perked up at the mention of £30 million, a figure that symbolized a potential boost to their fortunes through the Freeman family.
"You see…" Monica chimed in, trying to belittle Samson. "That's the difference between you and Curtis."
Ignoring her, Samson shot back, "With the help of daddy's money! Don't tell me you started your business from the ground up because you didn't. You had the bank of Dad to help you out."
"Perhaps I did, but I made it into what it is now," Curtis retorted, trying to regain his footing, though Samson's words rang true.
"With the help of the connections your father already had," Samson added, watching as Curtis's anger simmered just below the surface.
"Watch your mouth; his family could wipe you off the face of the earth, and no one would find your remains," Cecil warned, his tone serious.
Samson couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the threat.
The tension reached a breaking point when, without warning, Monica slapped Samson across the face. Shock rippled through the room, and a brief silence fell.
"Samson, why are you making this difficult?" Janis exclaimed. "Can't you see she doesn't want you anymore?" Her words dripped with disdain.
Cecil fixed Samson with a hard stare. "Sign the papers. Don't make it any more embarrassing for yourself."
Finally, feeling defeated and devoid of the will to argue, Samson looked at Monica, his voice trembling. "Is this what you truly want?"
"Yes, it is. I never loved you," she replied coldly.
With a heavy heart, Samson took the pen and signed the papers, rubbing his forehead in resignation. "Fine, I'll sign," he said, the weight of his decision crashing down on him.
Everyone in the room, except for Samson, felt a wave of relief wash over them as they eagerly awaited him to sign the papers.
After signing, he handed the documents to Monica. "I don't have anything to do with you anymore," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. With that finality hanging in the air, he turned and walked out of the living room, feeling the weight of his decision settle on his shoulders.
As he made his way to the front door, he could hear laughter and chatter behind him. It felt surreal, as if he were moving through a different world, one that continued to revel in happiness while he was left in the shadows, grappling with the loss of a future he had hoped to build.
With each step toward the door, the laughter faded, replaced by a profound silence that echoed his heartbreak.
Reaching the front door, a voice broke the silence behind him. "I'm sorry, Samson."
He turned to see Isabella, Monica's sister, sitting on the stairs. Her expression was a mix of sympathy and concern. "I heard everything. You don't deserve this," she said gently. Isabella was two years older than Samson, and he sensed that her feelings for him ran deeper than friendship.
Samson managed a disheveled smile, though it felt hollow. "It's fine. I'll see you around," he replied, not wanting to linger in the house any longer. The weight of the situation was heavy on his heart, and he craved the solace of the outside world.
He turned back and walked out the front door, leaving behind the warmth of the mansion and the dreams of a future he hoped to have built.