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Allen raised an eyebrow, nudging his glasses up with a grin. “Thought you’d be thanking me first.”
Matilda’s cheeks went pink, and she bit her lip. “Yeah, I owe you big time.”
Allen was supposed to be chilling today, but her plea had dragged him to the hospital to take charge of a
surgery.
“You’re not thinking of dropping some pricey gift on me, are you?” His voice was low, teasing, with a playful edge. “Docs can’t take bribes, you know. Don’t get me in hot water.”
“Nah,” Matilda said, her lips twitching into a half–smile, brushing it off.
Truth was, she’d been planning to slip him some cash.
Fancy gifts were all flash, no heart–she figured straight–up money would speak louder.
Allen caught the fleeting smile that crossed her face.
Her eyes were like peach blossoms in full bloom, corners tilting up just right. The bruise on her cheek was gone, her skin glowing soft and cool, like moonlight on fresh snow.
Matilda pressed on. “Seriously, Dr. Saunders, I owe you. Need anything, just give me a shout.”
“Can I follow you on Twitter?” Allen asked with a grin.
“Totally!” she shot back.
Matilda shared her username.
She glanced at Allen’s Twitter handle–just “1107” ‘What’s that about?‘ she wondered.
Once they’d connected, it hit Matilda that Allen still hadn’t answered her question.
She was about to nudge him when she saw Mike heading their way.
Matilda tossed Mike a quick nod as a hello.
As she walked off, Allen stared at her profile on his phone for a solid minute before saving her contact with one word: Her.
*****
Before heading back to Rose Villa, Matilda swung by the R&D center.
Buying the legit software was a mixed bag. The win? They paid up and could use it.
The catch? They were stuck with the old version, good only until the license expired.
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Chapter 7
No upgrades, no tech support–zilch.
:
It got her thinking about switching to homegrown software again.
She’d pitched it to Brandon more than once.
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But Brandon wasn’t having it–said the local stuff was half–baked and would just burn through their budget. Better to let foreign companies hold them hostage than even try.
Matilda rejigged her workload, scrapping the X3 design and focusing on tweaking the X2+ instead.
By the time she rolled into Rose Villa, it was nine at night.
The nanny, Tully, was trying to sweet–talk Lola into hitting the hay.
Lola wasn’t budging. “I’m waiting for Dad and Aunt Shelby to get home.”
Tully’s face lit up when she saw Matilda. “Hey, sweetheart, your mom’s back! How about she tucks you in tonight?”
Lola’s face soured like she’d bitten a lemon. “Mom’s divorcing Dad. She won’t be my mom for long.”
Matilda hadn’t seen her daughter in a week, and yeah, she’d missed her a bit.
Now? Her heart felt like ice.
She didn’t bother with Lola, kicked off her shoes, and made a beeline for the study.
Tully gave Lola a sad look. “Honey, your mom nearly died bringing you into this world. She fought for a whole month in that Domburgh hospital to keep you safe.”
Lola fiddled with the red wig on her head, checking herself in the mirror, totally unfazed. “That was the earthquake’s fault, not mine. What, like if she didn’t have me, Domburgh wouldn’t have shaken?”
Tully was dumbfounded, at a total loss.
‘No doubt Shelby’s behind this,‘ she thought to herself. ‘A couple years sipping fancy foreign coffee, and she comes back spouting all this highfalutin‘ nonsense.
“Turning a mom’s love and sacrifice into some kind of self–inflicted mess? That’s just plain wrong!”
Soon after, Brandon and Shelby strolled in.
Shelby, ever the doting type, went to run a bath for Brandon.
Brandon spotted Matilda’s shoes by the door and asked Tully, “Where’s Matilda?”
“In the study,” Tully replied.
Brandon wasn’t planning to deal with her, but the sharp clatter of her keyboard pulled his polished loafers toward the study like a magnet.
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Chapter 7
:
No two ways about it–Matilda was a knockout.
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Not the kind of beauty from designer clothes or perfect makeup, but something in her vibe. A fiery glow like a summer afternoon, mixed with the soft shine of a new moon.
She had this light, this warmth, that seemed to come straight from her soul.
Every time he took her to a fancy shindig, no one–except maybe Tessa–dared stand next to her.
Nobody wanted to be outshone.
Matilda glanced up, saw Brandon in the doorway, and handed him a neatly bound file. “Perfect timing. Take a look at this.”
Brandon’s eyes zeroed in on her bare ring finger, his jaw clenching tight. “Where’s your wedding ring?”
“Thrown out. You should ditch yours too. We’re done anyway.” Her tone was flat, like she was talking about what to grab for takeout.
Brandon’s gaze dropped to the words Divorce Agreement on the paper, and he ripped it to shreds right there.
“You want a divorce? Who the hell do you think you are to pull that card?” he shouted.
Matilda didn’t blink, locking eyes with him. “Dr. Saunders is operating on your mom.”
“I never signed off on that!”
“Cool. We’ll let the lawyers sort it out. Want the summons sent to Crossen Building‘ front desk?”
Brandon’s temper flared like a match. “You wouldn’t dare! I’ve been too damn good to you, Matilda—spoiling you rotten, putting you first for six years straight. When have you ever gone without?
“Every time you got mad, I was the one eating humble pie, begging to make things right. You’ve always been on your high horse. I kicked Shelby out just to keep the peace, and that poor girl came back scared out of her wits after getting pushed around out there.
“Then you go and slap her twice! She was sweet enough to cover for you with Mom, even begged her to go easy. Mom just wanted to set you straight, and now she’s fighting for her life in the ICU. And you’ve got the nerve to talk divorce? You think you deserve that?”
Matilda stared at his face, stunned.
She’d seen that face wear soft, lingering looks; big, goofy grins; cool detachment. But this? The clenched jaw, the raw fury? First time for everything.
A bitter ache churned in her chest, clawing up to her throat.
“Don’t twist things around, Brandon,” she said. “We both know the real story. Every time you came crawling back all grumpy, wasn’t I the one making the first move?
“Cutting up fruit and bringing it to you, rubbing your shoulders, ironing your shirts… Your whole ‘eating
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Chapter 7
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humble pie‘ act? Just you going with the flow. Yeah, I’ve got some spark, but I don’t walk over people.
“I hit Shelby because she had it coming. Your mom? Even if she paid the ultimate price, that’s on her. And you, Brandon–you’re no different. You both got what’s coming.”
At the study door stood Shelby in her sleek beige silk dress.
Her half–smile carried a quick, sly flicker, barely there. ‘Go on, you two–keep fighting. The bigger the blowout, the better tomorrow’s drama!‘
宙
