Some time ago, I wrote a one-shot called "The Email Hoax." It came from a writing prompt I found online. "You receive an email from a supposed rich Nigerian prince who needs money to get home. You think it's a scam, but out of pity you give him a little money with a message saying that it's all you have right now. 5 years later the prince turns up at your door, ready to repay your kindness." The prompt sounded fun, so I changed a few details and made it a Divergent fanfic. I intended for it to be a one-shot - just a writing exercise. But my imagination got carried away (as it does) and before I knew it, I was three chapters into writing it! I forced myself to trim it back to the oneshot I originally intended, but kept picking at the longer version for fun. Now I'm fifty long chapters in, and not quite done writing it…
'Email Hoax' is longer, and a bit more detailed and self-indulgent than other things I've written. I let the story develop in all its decadence. It's full of the privileges of money, like travel, private jets, designer fashions, and expensive gifts. It's a fairy-tale Cinderella story all about what money can't buy - true love.
I intend to start you off with chapters one and two (since it's pretty much the oneshot you might have read already), then add a chapter each day. There are some things in my life right now that *might* make daily updates a challenge (the biggest of which is that my husband and I are moving this fall, but also just life, and the fact that I have two jobs, and a plethora of volunteer and family/social commitments). If you don't see an update one day, please be patient.
I love all the favorites, follows and reviews that I get. I read each and every review, and they really are the fuel that encourages me to keep writing new stories! If you have a question, I might answer it. If the answer is "you'll see," then you'll just have to wait and see. If something is unclear or merits a response, I'll reply. I have a new policy for my personal sanity in regards to guest reviews. I appreciate every reader, but I will not interact with guest reviews. A fanfiction account is free, and you don't have to use your real name (most of us don't). I highly recommend you just sign up. If you don't, you are more than welcome to read and review, but I will not be responding to your reviews, because there is no way to do that privately.
That's more than enough chit-chat from me. Let's get to why you're really here - the story!
XOXO,
Libby
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xxxx
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"Never have I ever, um..." Christina hesitated for a minute before her eyes lit up and she smirked across the circle at her best friend, "...fallen for an email scam!"
Tris Prior groaned. She knew there was no way she could get away with sneaking a drink and not telling the story. Her loudmouth roommate and best friend was going to tell it. Again.
"What!?" exclaimed Marlene, their neighbor from the dorm room across the hall.
Everyone else in the room - Will, Lynn, Shauna, Zeke, and Uriah - laughed loudly as they waited to hear the story again.
These were Tris' closest friends. She had grown up with Christina, Lynn, and Uriah. By extension she had known Shauna and Zeke, Lynn and Uriah's older siblings, who were a year ahead of them. Christina met Will on a campus tour during their junior year of high school, and he had been part of their social circle since they arrived at DU. Marlene joined the group when she was paired up to room with Lynn.
"We were, like, sixteen," Christina began, gleeful over a new audience to entertain with Tris' embarrassing story. "Tris got this email asking for money to help some... what did he say he was? Greek or something? Anyway, some guy claiming to be a European big shot's son. He said he was being abused and wanted to escape. Our soft-hearted social work major sent him the money her grandparents had given her for her birthday."
Tris' cheeks flamed hotly. She had a huge heart for kids in abusive homes and had been volunteering that summer at a foundation that raised money to fight domestic abuse. When she got that email at her work address, Tris felt a strong pull to send something. The email hadn't asked for personal or banking information, it just asked for money to be sent through a familiar and secure money-transferring site that Tris knew and trusted. She transferred fifty dollars to the address given in the email. She also attached a note explaining that the fifty was all she had to send and that she hoped that it would help. "No one deserves to be mistreated," she wrote. "You do not deserve it. You have unlimited potential and I wish you all the best in escaping your situation and building a life worthy of the person that you are. You're in my prayers."
She never heard from him again. To make matters worse, the staff meeting at the foundation that week focused on email scams. "Because you work here, scammers know this is something you care about," the manager of Tris' internship group had said. "These scammers will play on your sympathies, but they just want your money and your personal information."
"He called himself something really stupid, too," Christina said, breaking Tris out of her memories. "What was it, Tris? Like 'Yellow' or 'Twelve' or something dumb."
"Four," Tris said.
"And you fell for it?" Marlene choked out around her laughter.
"I was working for a foundation that fights abuse," Tris defended. "I got an email from someone who was being abused and needed help. I was seventeen."
She narrowed her eyes at Christina, who was still laughing across the circle. "At least I didn't flash my boobs at a whole waterpark of little kids," Tris said.
Christina gasped in horror as Uriah took up yelling the story of Christina's most embarrassing moment. The 'Never Have I Ever' game dissolved as the group clambered to tell more embarrassing stories of each other and themselves.
.
Tris was relieved when finals were done and winter break started. She packed a suitcase and caught a ride home with Christina for a month of Christmas celebrations, relaxation, and boredom. Tris didn't have a car, and their small hometown outside of Chicago had no public transportation. With both of her parents working, Tris would be stuck at home a lot.
When she walked into her childhood home, Tris was instantly relaxed by the comforting familiarity. The Priors lived a simple life. Tris' dad, Andrew, had been a minister when he married. The couple began trying for kids right away, but it took several years before their firstborn, Caleb, arrived. Expecting a similar timeline, the Priors hadn't worried about birth control after Caleb, and Tris arrived eleven months later.
Natalie was a stay-at-home mom when her kids were young, and a source of support for her husband and his ministry. When the kids were in middle school, their parents changed course. The family relocated to the suburbs and Andrew became a chaplain for the Chicago Fire Department. Natalie took a part-time job managing their town's food bank.
Caleb Prior was the awkward genius type. He graduated from high school a year ahead of his sister, and enrolled at the prestigious Erudite University. He planned to become a research scientist, like their Aunt Jeanine. Because of his all-important internship with Andrew's sister, Caleb would not be home until just before Christmas.
After an evening catching up with her parents and her laundry, and a night in her old familiar bed, Tris joined Natalie at the food bank. She sorted donations and had coffee with the volunteers. Tris was a kind-hearted and outgoing girl, so she was always popular with the volunteers and clients at the food bank.
.
As Christmas drew closer, the days established a pattern. Tris got up, had breakfast with her parents, then either puttered around the house or joined Natalie at the food bank. She went to church on Sunday, baked cookies and other treats for Andrew to take to the fire stations, and went Christmas shopping with Christina. It was comfortable, familiar, and utterly boring.
On the Monday before Christmas, Natalie left early to work on a special holiday project at the food bank. Tris had breakfast with Andrew, then sent him off to work with banana bread that she had prepared for the firemen. Still in flannel sleep shorts and a pink hoodie, Tris tackled the breakfast dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. She was dancing around to random Christmas music while cleaning, but stopped dead in her tracks when the doorbell rang.
Tris looked down at her bare legs. Whoever is at the door undoubtedly heard my music and knows someone is home, she thought. It's probably just a package delivery or Chris or Uri anyway. With that thought, Tris turned down the music and hurried to the door.
She peeked through the window and was surprised to see a strange young man on her front step. He was tall, with short, dark hair and deep blue eyes. Though he was dressed in warm layers, Tris could tell that he was quite fit. He must be one of Dad's firemen, she assumed as she opened the front door a few inches.
"Hello?" Tris said to the stranger, mentally kicking herself for the weak, questioning tone in her voice.
"Good morning," said the stranger with a slight accent that Tris couldn't place. "My name is Tobias Marcus Eaton the fourth, and I am looking for Beatrice Prior. Is Ms. Prior at home?"
"Uh, yeah," Tris said in shock. "That's, uh, that's me. I'm Tris Prior. How can I help you?"
The young man's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You?" he questioned. "You are Beatrice Prior?"
"The one and only," Tris said snarkily. She was getting cold standing in the doorway in her sleep shorts.
"I'm sorry," the young man said, obviously still stunned. "You are not what I expected."
"Can I help you with something?" Tris asked, trying to move the conversation along before she got hypothermia.
"My name is Tobias Marcus Eaton the fourth," he repeated. "You know me as Four."
Tris' mouth dropped open, and for several moments she just stared at the stranger.
"Very funny Christina!" Tris suddenly called past the young man. "Uriah, you can come out now; I'm not falling for it."
"I'm not… Um… I don't know what is happening," the man said, his accent getting stronger.
"What's happening is that I'm not falling for a stupid prank," Tris said firmly as her anger rose. "You two have teased me about this for years," she called over the stranger's shoulder. "I get it. I was stupid. I was young and naive. I wanted to help people, and I fell for an email hoax. I get it. Now take your little community-theatre actor and his bad accent and go away before I freeze to death!"
Tris slammed the door in the stranger's shocked face and flipped the deadbolt for emphasis. She marched back to the kitchen and fired off an angry text to Christina.
T: Not funny.
Christina responded almost immediately with a question mark.
T: Don't ? me. That was a stupid attempt at a prank. You give me crap about that Four thing all the time. Did you really think I'd fall for it?
C: Tris, you've lost me. I'm at Grandma's in Indiana, remember? Maybe Uri pranked you. What happened?
T: "Four" showed up at my door.
C: Lol! I wish I thought of that! It was probably Uri and Zeke.
Tris texted Uriah.
T: Nice try. Too bad I'm not 17 anymore.
U: What?
T: Your stupid prank. How dumb do you think I am?
U: You lost me
T: Whatever
Tris threw her phone on her bed and went to take a shower. By the time she emerged, her anger had faded. She braided her long blonde hair and dressed in leggings and a warm sweater. After lunch, one of Tris' favorite Christmas movies was on television. She grabbed a blanket and settled in to watch.
The doorbell rang, and Tris rolled her eyes. When she peeked out the window she saw a delivery man with a large bundle, so she opened the door.
"Beatrice Prior?" the teenage delivery guy asked.
"Yes," Tris answered skeptically.
"Delivery for you," he replied as he began to unwrap the package. In it was a large vase of red and white roses with sprigs of evergreen.
"They're beautiful," Tris said in shock. That must have cost over a hundred dollars, she thought, baffled.
"Thank you," said the delivery guy as he handed Tris an envelope. "Have a nice day!" Just like that, he and his packing materials were gone, leaving Tris with her arms full of holiday flowers and a light blue envelope. She carried the roses to the dining room and set them on the table.
Opening the envelope, Tris pulled out a business card and a sheet of crisp baby blue stationary with a fancy navy blue and white shield in one corner. Her eyes raced over the hand-written note.
Beatrice,
My sincerest apologies for turning up unannounced on your doorstep this morning. I realize that I shocked and somehow offended you with my unexpected arrival, but for years now it has been my dream to meet the woman who saved my life.
Though I now know how juvenile it was to email random strangers in America, I was desperate when I contacted you. I sent that message to twenty-three people at three different foundations. You were the only one who replied.
Your generous gift touched my heart, but your encouraging words saved my life.
I am in Chicago on business, and would be honoured to take you out for dinner so I can thank you properly.
Sincerely,
Tobias M. Eaton IV
Tris read the note three times before the words sunk in and she remembered to look at the business card. It was baby blue, and had the same shield as the stationary. To the left of the shield it said "Eaton Holdings" in large block letters, and "Tobias M. Eaton IV" in smaller letters. There was no phone number, address, or email printed on the card. Tris flipped it over and saw a handwritten note.
Peninsula Hotel, Chicago
I am here until 27 December, then in New York before returning home.
A phone number with a Chicago area code was written at the bottom.
Tris was still staring back and forth between the flowers, the note, and her phone screen when Natalie arrived a few hours later.
"Wow!" she said as she walked in and saw the flowers. "Where did those come from?"
"I, um… It's a long story," Tris replied. "I'm not sure where to begin. I may have accidentally made friends with an Albanian millionaire, or billionaire, I'm not sure."
Natalie laughed and looked for a card in the floral arrangement. "Who are they from?" she asked again.
"I wasn't joking," Tris said as she passed her mother the business card. "According to the internet, he's a multimillionaire, if not a billionaire. His family owns shipping concerns, oil companies, timber, tech businesses, and more."
"What?" Natalie asked. "How did this happen? Someone you met at school?"
Tris shook her head. "You're going to laugh at me," she said. "Remember that summer I worked for the foundation? Well, I got an email from a guy asking for help. He said he was European and his controlling father was abusive. He needed resources to escape. I fell for it. I sent him a little money. I didn't give him my information or anything, just sent my birthday money and a note through a secure site. Turns out I didn't fall for a hoax after all."
"Or you fell for something bigger than a few dollars," Natalie suggested nervously.
"I have nothing worth stealing," Tris replied. "And these flowers alone cost more than what I sent him. He showed up here this morning, but I didn't let him in. In fact, I thought it was a prank. Then this afternoon the flowers arrived with this note."
Tris handed Natalie the note. "I searched online," she said, "and it seems real. The shield on the card and paper are the family crest. And the guy who showed up this morning is the guy in these pictures."
"Let's see what your dad has to say when he gets home," Natalie suggested.
.
I'm crazy, Tris said to herself as she entered the number into her phone. I'm stupid. I'm going to be trafficked and end up on a milk carton. This is a bad idea.
The phone rang twice before an accented voice answered. "Tobias Eaton's office, this is Amar."
"Oh, um, hello," Tris said nervously. "My name is Tris Prior, um, Beatrice Prior. I'm calling for Tobias?"
"Miss Prior!" the man responded warmly. "Mr. Eaton has been expecting your call. Unfortunately he is in a meeting right now. May I take a message?"
Tris couldn't help but think that this Amar person sounded rather chipper and hopeful.
"Yes, um, Mr. Eaton invited me to have dinner with him while he's in town. I'm calling in regard to that." Tris hoped she sounded confident.
"Wonderful!" Amar gushed. "Mr. Eaton is in Chicago through the twenty-seventh, then we fly to New York. Are you available while he's here, or would you prefer to meet in New York?"
Tris was shocked by the suggestion. Who just jets off to New York for dinner?
"I'd prefer to see him while he's in Chicago," Tris said, playing along as well as she could. "If he has an evening free, of course."
"Certainly!" Amar said cheerfully. "Are you available tomorrow night? Mr. Eaton has been wanting to try a few of Chicago's better restaurants." He named a few expensive places Tris was sure he would not be able to get into at the last minute. "Do you have a preference before I make reservations?"
Tris wasn't a picky eater, so she told Amar that she would be fine with whatever he chose. "And if you can't get last-minute reservations anywhere, Chicago is known for its pizza," she said jokingly.
"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Amar said with a chuckle, then took Tris' phone number and promised to call back with details.
Tris threw open her closet. Her perfectly serviceable college girl wardrobe looked woefully inadequate when faced with the prospect of dinner with a millionaire at one of Chicago's best and most expensive restaurants. Normally when she didn't know what to wear, Tris called Christina, but part of her still thought it was an elaborate hoax. She looked through her clothes piece by piece.
December in Chicago isn't conducive to wearing heels, but Tris had a few skirts that might do. She pulled out a knee-length black lace skirt. Black is always a good idea, right? she thought. She dug around some more and found the black ballet flats Christina had talked her into spending too much on.
Her phone rang, and Tris snapped it up immediately. It was Amar, letting her know that he had made a reservation at one of Chicago's finest restaurants for seven o'clock Wednesday night, and that he would send the car for her at 6:15.
"Oh!" Tris exclaimed. "You don't need to do that. I can get myself there."
"Mr. Eaton insists," Amar said, ending the discussion.
.
As promised, at 6:15 on Wednesday evening a black Mercedes sedan parked in front of the Priors' home. A short, stocky man with dark hair stepped out and came to the door. Tris' father, Andrew, greeted the visitor.
"Good evening," the driver greeted Andrew. "My name is Amar. I'm the driver and assistant of Mr. Tobias Eaton, and I'm here to pick up Miss Beatrice Prior for dinner. Mr. Eaton sends his apologies for not being here in person, but he was tied up later than expected with today's business meetings."
Tris walked into the foyer. She was dressed in her lace skirt and flats with Natalie's black cashmere sweater. Her long, blonde hair was down and softly curled, and she wore a delicate silver necklace and matching silver earrings. Her makeup was simple and understated, and her carefully manicured nails were a subtle pale pink.
"Miss Prior," the driver greeted with a short bow. "My name is Amar; we spoke on the telephone."
"Nice to meet you," Tris said, offering her hand.
Amar shook Tris' offered hand. He apologized again for Tobias' absence before helping her into her coat and escorting her to the waiting car.
"There is water there for you if you would like," Amar offered from the driver's seat. "I can raise the partition if you prefer as well."
"Oh no," Tris assured him. "Down is fine. Unless you prefer to have it closed."
"Is the music acceptable?" Amar asked, referring to the soft jazz playing in the background.
Tris assured him that it was fine as he maneuvered the streets of her hometown. They soon pulled onto the freeway headed toward downtown Chicago.
"So you work for Mr. Eaton?" Tris asked, trying to start a conversation.
"Yes, Miss," he said. "I'm Mr. Eaton's personal assistant and driver."
"That's nice," Tris said. "Have you worked for him long?"
"Over twenty years," Amar said, his voice softening. "I joined the staff when Mr. Tobias was just a baby. I was the driver for Mr. Tobias and his nannies and governesses."
"Nannies and governesses?" Tris asked. "How much staff does one child need?"
"Not at the same time," Amar explained with a smile. "Mr. Marcus Eaton, Mr. Tobias' father, was a hard employer and went through a lot of staff. When Mrs. Eaton passed away, he sent Mr. Tobias and I to boarding school."
"You went with him?" Tris asked.
"Well, not exactly," Amar explained as he maneuvered the car off the freeway and into downtown. "Mr. Tobias went to school, and I was put up in a small flat nearby. I was there for anything he needed, and I drove him home on weekends."
"I hope I'm not prying into private business," Tris said nervously. "The kind of life that involves servants is so foreign to me. I find it fascinating."
"Not at all, Miss Prior," Amar replied.
"Please, call me Tris."
"Certainly, Miss Tris," Amar said with a warm smile at her through the rearview mirror. "My job is a lot like any businessman's personal assistant, except that Mr. Eaton's whole life is his business, so I assist him with all of it."
"Doesn't that limit your personal life?" Tris asked.
"Mr. Tobias is a good man and a kind employer," Amar said. "My partner and I live in a nice house on the estate, and Mr. Eaton is thoughtful of George and always includes him and considers him before we travel."
"That's nice," Tris said sincerely.
"It is," Amar said. "Gay marriage isn't recognized in our country, but Mr. Eaton treats George and I the same as any married couple. He makes sure we're both taken care of, and he even gives to organizations fighting for gay rights. He has a big heart."
Tris was smiling warmly when the driver pulled up to the restaurant and opened her door.
"Thank you, Amar," Tris said, squeezing the driver's hand as he helped her out of the car.
"No, thank you, Miss Tris. You've done more good than you'll ever know."
The duo smiled at one another, and the sound of a throat clearing got their attention.
"Good evening Miss Prior," Tobias said in his deep, slightly accented voice. "Thank you, Amar."
Amar nodded, then hurried back to the car as Tobias offered Tris his arm.
"I apologize that I could not pick you up myself," Tobias said as they walked into the restaurant lobby.
"That's quite alright," Tris said as Tobias helped her remove her coat. "I enjoyed visiting with Amar."
"No doubt he enjoyed talking to you as well," Tobias said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You look lovely tonight."
"Better than when I was yelling at you like a crazy person in my pajamas?" Tris teased. "I owe you an apology for that. I was terribly rude."
She paused while Tobias gave his name to the maitre d', who assigned a host to guide them to their table. The restaurant was full, and Tris wondered again how Amar had managed to get them a last-minute reservation. Tobias held Tris' chair as she sat, then took his own seat. The host handed them each a menu and gave Tobias a wine list.
Tris looked over the menu. She could only identify about half of the items listed on the page, but everything she had seen people eating as they walked in looked and smelled wonderful.
Tobias ordered a bottle of wine, and Tris asked for water. When the sommelier left, Tobias gave her a confused look. "Did you not like the wine I selected?" he asked. "It will compliment dinner very well."
Tris blushed. "I'm not old enough to drink," she said quietly.
Tobias' eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding a bit panicked. "Americans have strange laws about drinking. I know this is terribly rude, but how old are you?"
"Twenty," Tris said. "I'll be twenty-one this spring."
"And you've never had a drink?" Tobias asked in shock.
"I didn't say that," Tris replied with a wink. "I can't legally buy alcohol or drink it in public places like a restaurant, but I have friends who are old enough to buy it."
Tobias smiled and chuckled. "When I came to Chicago I thought I was going to meet a wise old woman," he said. "You have surprised me at every turn, Beatrice Prior."
Tris pouted. "Why did you think I was old?" she asked teasingly.
"Your kind heart and the wisdom in your note," Tobias said a bit too quickly.
"And my old lady name?" Tris pressed.
Tobias blushed. The wine was delivered, and after the obligatory uncork, look, and taste process, Tobias approved the wine and placed their dinner orders.
"You can say it," Tris prompted when they were alone again. "I didn't pick my own name. It sounds like an old grandma. That's why people call me Tris."
"Fine, fine," Tobias admitted. "Your name is a bit matronly. I thought I had an American grandmother praying for me."
"I did pray for you," Tris said softly.
Tobias took Tris' hand across the table. "When I emailed the foundation workers, I thought I had no hope. My family is rich, but I had nothing of my own. Marcus, my father, beat me and told me that I was worthless and that generations of Eatons would be ashamed to see their holdings pass on to me. He was a cruel monster. I never told a soul about it, not even Amar.
"I had two plans. First, I would contact American organizations. There were good people fighting for abuse victims here, and none of them knew Marcus. If they would help me, I could get away. But if no one would help me, I was going to kill myself."
Tris gasped and squeezed Tobias' hand as her eyes filled with tears.
"Marcus didn't want me managing the family holdings," he explained. "He told me every day that I was a failure and a waste. I thought no one would miss me. I almost didn't email the Americans because I thought it was no use. But I did it. And you replied. And your words saved me. I printed your message, and I carry it in my wallet to this day. Someone thought I deserved better. Someone wanted me to be free. Someone prayed for me."
"What happened?" Tris asked, her fingers gripping Tobias' tightly.
"Your message gave me courage to tell Amar about everything. He helped me make a plan. I was at university, and he helped me limit my visits home. I took trips during school holidays. I spent as little time as possible at our family estate. Last year Marcus had a heart attack and died.
"I know it's wrong to rejoice in the death of my father, but he was a tyrant. I'm free now. I overhauled the household staff and some of the business. I am rebuilding bridges that Marcus burned. The companies of Eaton Holdings are paying our employees well again. We are giving to worthy causes. In honor of you we donate the equivalent of $18,250 a year to fight child abuse. That's fifty US dollars per day to remember the fifty dollars you sent to me with the words that saved my life."
Tris let go of Tobias' hand to wipe her eyes. The waiter brought their dinner, which looked and smelled amazing.
"My friends tease me about you," Tris said quietly when they were alone again. "They think I was taken in by a scam. That's why I yelled this morning. I thought they were playing a prank on me."
Tobias' eyes sparkled. "You know the only thing for us to do is prank them instead," he said.