Chapter 8
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95
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Brandon’s meltdown hit like a cold north wind–wild and biting, but it didn’t faze Matilda one bit. Her heart was already ice–cold and dead inside, her face as calm as a frozen lake.
No pushback from her just made him madder. He slammed the door on his way out and headed straight to hit the bar with his old pal, Zack Maxwell.
Zack was Brandon’s brother–from–another–mother, thick as thieves since they were toddling around in diapers.
Now a slick lawyer ruling Itera City’s legal scene, he was Crossen Technology’s top legal gun–battle–tested, never beaten.
When Brandon growled about Matilda demanding a divorce, Zack let out a low, wicked chuckle.
“Man, I told you—spoil a girl, and she’ll run you over,” he said. “All this drama over letting your sister crash at your place? She’s got some guts, I’ll give her that.”
Zack lounged against the bar, flicking his lighter to spark a cigarette, all charm and devil–may–care swagger. “Come on, dude, why the sad puppy act?
“Matilda’s not the only fish in the sea. Six years is a solid run–time to cut bait and bounce.”
Brandon knocked back his whiskey in one go, his voice rough and low. “She thinks she can just walk out? Like I’m some chump?”
“So you’re not signing those papers, huh?” Zack grinned, one eyebrow cocked. “Easy fix, my man.”
Brandon shot him a look–spit it out.
Zack blew a lazy smoke ring, his smirk pure trouble. “Just dig in your heels and say hell no. She’ll have to drag it to court.
“File some bullshit about jurisdiction, stall the hearings, keep her stuck in limbo for years…”
Brandon stared into his empty glass, the amber dregs catching the light as he turned it over in his mind.
Zack nudged his arm with a grin. “Alright, spill it, bro. Right now–Matilda or Shelby–who’s got your loyalty in this shitshow?”
A heavy silence stretched out before Brandon finally spoke, his tone hard as nails. “I’m done letting Shelby down. Matilda’s gotta take a step back.”
Drained to her core, Matilda locked her bedroom door and collapsed into a few hours of restless sleep.
When she woke, her mind was razor–sharp, the divorce mess snapping into focus.
*****
9:14 Mon, Oct 13
Chapter 8
:
If one side wouldn’t budge, the law turned into a slog–likely a year or more of red tape.
(Q(95)
55 vouchers
She grabbed her purse and headed to a lawyer’s office, desperate for the fastest way out of this cage.
The attorney didn’t mince words. “First go at a divorce? It’s a long shot–most get shut down.
“Best play is to split right after the judge rules, keep receipts for everything, and file again in a year.”
Matilda paid up and stepped outside. Her fingers pulled out a cigarette.
She took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl in her lungs before exhaling it like a heavy sigh.
Her phone buzzed–Cassandra, out of the blue. “Matilda, we’re in deep shit! Like, epic disaster!”
Matilda sighed to herself. ‘How bad can it be?‘
Then Cassandra sent her a link to a viral video.
The title hit like a punch to the gut: [Guys Who Pamper Their Women Always Get Screwed.]
That was savage–stirring up a full–on war between the sexes.
Matilda tapped play, and the video roared to life.
The background music was all sappy heartbreak, twisting Brandon’s angry shouts into a pitiful, choked–up plea.
“I’ve spoiled you rotten, put you on a damn pedestal for six years, gave you everything. All I wanted was to let my sister stay with us, and you lose it? You made me kick her out!
“She comes back, beat–up and scared, and you smack her! My mom’s in the ICU because of you, Matilda. What the hell did I ever do to you? Tell me!”
When her part hit, the music turned wild and dramatic, painting her as a shrieking banshee. “Yeah, I own it! You’re just a pathetic dog begging for scraps. Shelby deserved it–you and your mom had it coming!”
In two hours, the video racked up over a hundred thousand shares, skyrocketing to the top of the trending
charts.
The comments were a bloodbath. Guys cursed her out, wishing her the worst. Women tore into her for dragging their gender through the mud.
Then someone doxxed them: [That’s Brandon Grimes, CEO of Crossen Technology, and his wife Matilda. Saw them at a gala once.]
A reply popped up: [They like that in person? Same as the video?]
The answer: [Mr. Grimes can come off intense, but he’s a class act–polite, sharp, and crazy about his wife. Her? Total ice queen, looking down her nose like she’s too good for everyone.]
The hate piled on: [That woman’s trash.Wasting a good guy like that!]
9:14 Mon, Oct 13
Chapter 8
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Matilda’s face went pale, her cheeks flushing with barely–contained rage.
༧
> (95)
E55 vouchers
Cassandra’s voice crackled through the phone, frantic. “Want me to call in the PR crew? Flood the internet with some other drama to bury this?”
“Gimme a sec to think,” Matilda said, forcing herself to stay cool.
The video was ripped from a security feed–someone had planted a camera in the upstairs study.
Brandon’s blowup last night made it unlikely he was behind it. That left Shelby.
Matilda called the cops right then, reporting the illegal camera in her house.
But as she hung up, the twisted bond between Brandon and Shelby made her stomach churn–she could’ve puked.
The lawyer’s timeline of a year and a half for a divorce? No way she’d survive that wait.
She chewed it over, then laid it out for Cassandra. “Fuck it. Let ‘em talk.”
Cassandra nearly choked. “You’ve seen the garbage they’re slinging, right? It’s brutal!”
Matilda locked eyes with her, steady as steel. “Sometimes you gotta lose a battle to win the war.”
This video painted her as a jealous, vicious shrew–bad enough to tank Crossen Technology’s sales and stock price.
She knew well that Daniel, the greedy old bastard running the company, wouldn’t let that slide.
Selfish as he was, he’d pin the whole mess on her and bully Brandon into signing the divorce papers.
With no clout of her own, Matilda was betting on luck to rewrite her story. It was her best shot at breaking free, and fast.
*****
At Saints International Hospital, Allen sat hunched over his phone, those deep, soulful eyes fixed on a contact labeled “Her.”
She’d promised to thank him. Sixteen hours later, and nada.
Jude Hammond barged in, no knock, his white coat swishing as he shoved his phone in Allen’s face. “Hey, check this out. This girl–ain’t she the one you’ve got tucked away in your notes?”
Allen glanced up. Sure as hell, it was Matilda.
9:14 Mon, Oct 13
Chapter 9
Chapter 9
