Chapter 3: Crawling Back
Three weeks later, I was sitting in the living room of my actual home—a $15 million penthouse overlooking the skyline—when the intercom buzzed. It was Marcus at the front desk.
"Ma'am, the Morrisons are in the lobby. They’re begging to see you. Security is ready to toss them, but I figured you might want to know."
"Send them up," I said, taking a sip of my decaf tea.
When the elevator doors opened, I barely recognized them. Brendan looked like he hadn't slept in a week, his designer suit wrinkled and smelling of cheap gin. Diane looked pale and frantic, devoid of her usual heavy makeup.
"Cassidy! Oh, sweetie!" Diane practically lunged forward, trying to force a maternal smile. "We were just so worried about you! And the baby! You know we were just... joking around that night. Families joke!"
"A bucket of dirty water is a hell of a punchline, Diane," I replied, not bothering to stand up.
May you like
Brendan dropped to his knees. The arrogance was entirely gone, replaced by pure panic. "Cassidy, please. The bank foreclosed on the house. Jessica left me. She cleared out the safe and took off to Vegas. I'm broke. We have nothing. Please, for the sake of our child, turn the money back on."
I rested my hand on my pregnant belly. "I am thinking about my child, Brendan. That’s exactly why I’m making sure the two of you never get near her. You didn't want me when you thought I was poor. You don't get me now that you know I'm the bank."
