Chapter 4

"Same here—shouldn't have gone on about them being a perfect pair. Even if that's what I think, you're married and all, right? My turn to chug one!"

"We weren't aiming at you specifically. It's just, we watched those two grow up together, so there's a touch of what-if regret. But we'll be careful from here on—no more comments that rub you the wrong way, deal?"

One after another, they said their piece and tossed back a shot.

Roger assumed that settled everything.

He motioned for us to sit down and dig in.

But I wasn't moving. "Aren't we missing one?"

My eyes fixed on Martina.

She had no choice but to pick up a glass of juice and approach. "Cathryn, I know you can't stand me—and who could blame you? No wife wants her husband's childhood sweetheart and first love hanging around. I totally get it! We've made things hard on you—it's our bad."

Roger watched her with worry. "Alright, that's plenty. Cathryn won't hold a grudge. Now that we've cleared the air, sit down. You're not well—don't stand for too long."

Then he turned to me. "See? I followed through on my word. Time to drop it."

"We're not kids anymore, and you've already given me a son." His voice caught there—probably flashing back to how strained things were between us. "Let's just be a family and get on with life, okay?"

Mentioning the kid hit me like a gut punch, stirring up all kinds of nausea.

Our son and I used to be inseparable.

But somehow, he switched allegiances and became obsessed with Martina.

It was "Martina" this and that all day long, while I—his actual mom—turned into the monster keeping his dad and Martina apart.

At his birthday party, he even made a wish. "I hope Martina becomes my mommy."

That crushed me for weeks, but Roger dismissed it as no big deal.

"Kids say the darndest things—they don't mean it. Why get so worked up?"

To head off any more mom-son tension, we'd shipped him off to live with his grandpa a while back.

After that, I only got to see him every so often.

Come to think of it, Roger had a point—the boy didn't know any better.

Someone had obviously fed him those lines.

"Come on, Cathryn, say something—don't give me the silent treatment again, alright?"

Before I could get a word out, the door burst open, and Manual strode in, looking sharp in a custom-tailored suit.

"What are you doing here?"

I stared at Manual in surprise.

"I crashed the party, obviously—to hear what these morally bankrupt lowlifes have to say to you."

"Manual, watch your tone! Don't think we're intimidated by you!" Roger bellowed, instinctively stepping in front of Martina to shield her.

"I'm not here for you, so why the freakout?" Manual lounged back in a chair, giving the room a lazy once-over. They all talked a big game about not being scared, but nobody stepped up to be the hero.

"Anyway, if you're truly not afraid, Mr. Crawford, should I test that by yanking all the funding from the Crawford Group?"

Roger's face flushed crimson, his lips moving wordlessly before he managed, "What exactly do you want?

"We're all grown-ups here—bringing personal beef into business isn't right, is it? And anyway, no matter how much my wife and I argue, we're family. Why's an outsider like you getting involved?"

Manual's gaze turned steely, and he flashed a smirk.

"You're on the brink of divorce, and you're still calling her your wife? Talk about shameless."

He delivered it deadpan, and I couldn't stifle a laugh.

"No time for your BS. I'm here today with a special gift for you!" Manual grabbed a file from his assistant and spilled its contents across the table.

Documents and photos flew everywhere.

"You've screwed over Cathryn time and again for this woman—now get a load of who she really is.

"She spins this tale about wrapping up her studies and coming home, blaming a bad romance for her trashed rep. But she's nothing but a greedy social climber! She wrecked a marriage for cash, pushed a woman in her fifties to suicide, and then had to crawl back here in shame.

"Why else would she dodge a real marriage and jump straight to begging for sperm?"

Martina's face drained of color as she waved her hands wildly. "No, that's not it! It's all lies—don't believe him!"

The proof was rock-solid, but Roger still bought her story hook, line, and sinker.

"You really think I'll fall for these phony docs and your crap?

"A big man like you smearing a woman's name—you're the one without shame.

"You and Cathryn have been playing footsie for years—what makes you think you can judge us?

"Not happening unless you two get on your knees and beg Martina for forgiveness!"

I fired back, furious. "Why the hell should we? Does trash like her even deserve it?"