The London Paradigm (book 4 of Adopted by the Josephs)

36. Tyler

Samantha wasn't thrilled with the idea of having to go to meet with the lawyer, but she took it in stride. She was more resigned to it than anything. 

We picked her up after school, as usual, and drove down to his office. Samantha was quiet on the way, but it was a far cry from the last time we had to go to a lawyer's. She was terrified then, because it was the reading of Stanley's will and she was convinced he'd put something in his will to punish or torture her as he'd done her whole life.

But he hadn't. He'd left her his entire estate.

When we pulled up to the building, Samantha looked up through the window at the building, and then sighed. Press had found out we were coming here. My guess is the ones who followed us from the school called their colleagues.

"We're parking underground, sweetie," Jenna said.

Samantha put her school bag up on the window, and buried her face in it as we drove past the reporters and paparazzi at the building's entrance.

I drove around the corner and into the underground garage. We parked and headed to the elevators. Samantha had her bag with her, just in case.

When we got off the elevator, Samantha looked around the elevator lobby and convinced it was safe and quiet, came out of the elevator. John stayed close to her. Jenna held her hand.

The receptionist let Mr. Greyson know we'd arrived and told us to take a seat. Samantha slumped into the couch, clearly not happy to be here.

"It's going to be okay, Samantha," I said. "Mr. Greyson is on our side. He just wants to meet you, find out about your relationship with Mark, get to know you and what you've been through."

"Everything?" She asked, sitting up and looking a little panicked.

"No," I said. "Not everything. He already knows about Stanley and what happened. He might have some questions about it, but he promised he's not going to go through a lot. He needs to know as much as he can so he can present our side to show you're better off here."

"Okay," she sighed.

Mr. Greyson came out of his office and called us in. He smiled warmly at Samantha and put out his hand to shake hers.

"It's nice to meet you, Samantha. Do you prefer Sam or Samantha?" He asked.

Samantha shrugged.

"Either is fine, I guess," she said.

"I take it you're not happy to be here, and I don't blame you. What your uncle is putting you through isn't fair. But I just want to get to know you, a little bit more of your story, so I can tell the judge that you'd be better served staying with your Mom and Dad rather than being moved to England."

Samantha nodded. Mr. Greyson led us into his office. He'd set up coffee and pop on a credenza by the couch and chairs near the door. And there was a plate of cookies and a file on the coffee table.

"Samantha," he said. "Your parents told me you're diabetic. The cookies are sugar free, and I'm told they're really good, and I have sweetener if you want tea or coffee, and sugar free pop is you want that. And water."

He smiled. I saw Samantha's eyes widen and brighten just a bit. She wasn't used to strangers doing things for her.

"Um," she said nervously. "Do you have the packaging or the name? So I can look I up for carb count?"

"Oh. I think my secretary might. He got up and went to his desk and called out to his secretary who came in with the package and handed it, smiling, to Samantha.  She thanked her, read the package and serving size and did her calculations. Greyson watched.

"You do that in your head?" He asked her.

"Yeah," Sam said.

"Did Stanley teach you that?"

Samantha nearly choked.

"No. I've just always been able to," she said.

"Samantha has a talent for numbers. Her math grades are off the chart. Well, they were in middle school. I'm sure they'll be fine in high school, too," I smiled at her.

"Your parents seem very proud of you," Greyson said.

"I think so," Samantha looked at me. I nodded.

"We absolutely are," I smiled.

"So, Samantha," Greyson started. "I know a little bit about what you've been through in the past couple of years from your parents, but I want to get a little more information. Okay?"

"I guess," she said, looking at me and moving just slightly closer to me.

"So. I know you're diabetic. When we're you diagnosed? What age?"

"Um, I was eight. It was right after my mom died,"

"Right. Okay. And your mom was killed?"

"Yeah," Sam said.

"By Stanley?"

Samantha nodded.

"Okay. Now, how did you wind up in your parents' care?"

"Well, Stanley, he..." Samantha trailed off and swallowed hard. "He..."

Her voice was starting to shake a little and she was sitting tighter to me again. She snaked her arm through mine.

"He hit you, didn't he?" Greyson asked. We'd told him. Samantha nodded.

"So, then how did you wind up with the Josephs?"

"I'd had enough," Sam said. Her voice a little stronger and less shaky. "He beat me for any reason. If my room wasn't clean enough. And it never was. If I didn't make dinner exactly how he liked it or wanted it. If I took too long doing anything. That night, I think I'd made peas instead of corn, and he was going to beat me for it. So I ran."

"Right to the Josephs?"

"Well, I just ran. I didn't have a destination I just wanted to get away. I didn't know their house was on the other side of the fence I climbed."

"I see. And what happened when you figured out you were at their house?"

"I didn't know it was their house. I just knew it was a house. And the floodlights came on and I got scared. But Stanley was in the woods behind the house and yelling and Dad, except I didn't know it was him, came outside. I sort of froze because I knew if I went back to Stanley, he'd beat me for sure. And he might have killed me. I think because I ran, he would have. And then Dad was coming towards me from the house, and I didn't know who he was, or if I was in trouble."

"Then what happened?"

"I passed out and woke up in the hospital,"