Page 123 of Return Billionaire to Sender

“I suppose I do,” I say.

“Does he know?” she asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “You didn’t see the devastation in his eyes. He’s not a man who lets people in. But he let me in, and I hurt him.”

She nods. Later on, there’s a baggie of caramel corn tied to our doorknob.

Sometimes I sit around crying. I’m sad about the building, yes. But really, it’s Malcolm. The whole world felt better when I was with Malcolm.

Francine and I spend the week packing everything up—quietly, not even playing music. Usually we would have something fun on, but not now.

When I’m not packing or desperately scanning rental listings, I’m back on my route. It’s never been more comforting to be a letter carrier than now, because it’s a task I can perfectly and fully achieve. Every envelope and package in its right place. No room for error. No room for destroying others or being destroyed.

32

Malcolm

It doesn’t takelong to find Allen Junior, aka AJ.

Three days later, he’s in my office. It’s not that my guy forced him to come up, but he makes it clear what a dim view I take of employee embezzlement, and how, if I were to become annoyed, I could bring charges against accomplices. But for now I simply want to talk, and he assures Allen Junior that it would be in his best interests to indulge me.

I could bring charges of all kinds, but I’m kicking her out of her home early and that’s more than enough. Far too much, but I can’t keep thinking like that. I can’t keep waking up in the middle of the night thinking about that.

I need to see what kind of person Noelle would send money to, that’s all.

I need to see what kind of man she is so infatuated with that she would go without food—literally go hungry—so that she could send him gift cards. Maybe it’s masochistic, but I just need to see, and as we’ve already established, I’m a billionaire who satisfies every ridic whim that flies into his head.

Allen Junior has perfectly blow-dried hair that forms a kind of a helmet around his pretty-boy face, and he wears several woven bracelets. He’s trying to pass the blame off onto Noelle before he’s even sitting down.

“I didn’t know, man,” he repeats. “I didn’t have anything to do with her whole stupid scheme. None of it was even my idea.”

“But you were working together, were you not?” I say.

“We weren’t working together at all,” he insists.

“You are a boyfriend she’s sending money to,” I say. “I think that qualifies as working together.”

“I’m not her boyfriend—I never even met her!”

I stroll around my desk and over to his chair. I grab the arms and lean down, get right into his face. He’s denying knowing her? Noelle prizes bravery and loyalty—how could she be with such a coward?

“Lie to me again,” I say, “and you won’t like the result.”

“I’m not lying!” he exclaims. “Why are you mad atme? She’s the one who was committing fraud all over your ass. She’s the one that took my girlfriend’s place. In fact, I am as much a victim as you are. She was impersonating mygirlfriend. She’s a complete scam artist. And then when I found out, and informed her that I didn’t think it was cool, she offered to buy my silence. I was like, seriously? But she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

I stand. “She offered to buy you off?”

“I confronted her on her deception when I found out about it, and she said, ‘look, this rich guy is paying me a sweet per diem—I’m going to turn it into gift cards for you.’” He shrugs. “I honestly didn’t even know it was illegal.”

I stand, pulse racing. I take a few paces, thinking. This doesn’t sound like Noelle.

True, she was passing herself off as something she’s not, but other than that, she was honest, conscientious. I think of her in those meetings, salivating over the pastry tray. Not wanting to take more than her due.

Paying somebody off with gift cards? Not Noelle’s style.

But this guy?

I give him a hard look. “Keeping in mind that I had a private investigator on you, I’d like you to answer that question again, and this time truthfully.”

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