The Reckless Collision

Chapter Eleven

I crossed the room and turned on the speaker, scrolling through until I found something familiar. The opening chords of "I'm Not Okay" by My Chemical Romance filled the room.

"Okay, motive," I muttered aloud, turning back to face Ray.

He raised an eyebrow, watching me with quiet curiosity. "Motive?" he echoed, his voice low and even.

"There's always a motive, right?" I said, pacing the length of the room. My heart raced, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. "Maybe it's money?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them, my voice cracking slightly.

"Money?" Ray leaned forward, his brow furrowing. "What kind of money?"

I hesitated, twisting my hands nervously. I hated talking about money, but what other explanation could there be? "Some people might call me...rich," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ray tilted his head slightly, studying me. "Define 'rich.'"

"Like...a million-rich," I said, cringing at how ridiculous it still sounded.

He blinked, clearly trying to process that information. "And how long have you been...a millionaire?" His tone stayed calm, but I noticed the faint edge of curiosity creeping in.

"Since October," I said, my voice steadier now. "Eight months ago."

Ray's expression didn't change, but I could see the wheels turning in his head. "Did you recognize any of the photos from before that?"

I froze, thinking back to the images we'd seen. My stomach churned at the memory of seeing myself in those pictures—walking to class, laughing with Molly, just existing. "Yes," I said finally, sinking back onto the couch beside him. "There was one of me and Molly in the park. My hair was longer, and I know it was from September, before...everything."

Ray nodded slowly, his gaze sharpening. "You're not giving me the whole picture, Sam," he said, leaning forward.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself. "When we met, I didn't tell you my last name because I didn't think it mattered," I started, glancing down at my hands. "It's Morris. My grandfather was Michael Morris."

Ray's eyes widened slightly, recognition flickering across his face. "Wait. The Michael Morris? The author?"

I nodded, feeling my cheeks flush. "Yeah. He passed away in October, and he...left me everything." The words felt heavy on my tongue.

Ray leaned back, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "That's cool—not that he died, obviously, but that you're his granddaughter." His tone was genuine, almost impressed.

I shrugged, trying to brush it off. "I'll talk to Scott tomorrow. Maybe sober, he won't be as mad as he was earlier."

Ray's brows knit together. "Was he mad about something else?"

"Mostly about you," I admitted, my voice soft.

Ray shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. "I told you, Sam. He's jealous. And it's not about the money—he's in love with you."

The room felt like it tilted. I stared at him, shaking my head. "No. That's not possible. I'd know if he felt that way."

Ray smirked, a teasing glint in his eye. "Would you, though? You don't exactly have the best radar for that kind of thing from what can I see."

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped short. Memories of Molly's warnings flickered in my mind. Scott had always been a little...overprotective. But in love with me? That couldn't be right.