He threw me out onto the pavement with the two kids, and a year later he limped back round the bend, begging me for money
Hello, dragonfly, crackled the familiar voice in my ear, squeaking like a cheap ringtone. Not expecting me?
Claire froze, a bottle of perfume still clasped in her hand. The air in the walkin closet, heavy with sandalwood and a whiff of ambition, suddenly grew thick and sticky, just like the stairwell a year ago when shed spent the night there with the children.
What do you want, Glen? she forced herself to speak evenly, refusing to glance at the laughter of Mike and Molly echoing from the nursery.
Straight to the point. No how are you? or whats new?. Were not strangers, Claire. Remember, we have two kids.
He smiled. The grin scraped her nerves like a rusty nail on glass. A whole year she hadnt heard that tone, that smug claim of right over her, over her life.
I remember. What do you need?
Claire set the perfume bottle down on the marble countertop. Her fingers trembled, but her voice stayed steady. Shed learned that.
Money.
Brief and plain. No apologies, no preamble. He hadnt changed.
You serious? he snapped.
Am I supposed to look funny? anger cut through his voice. Ive got problems, Claire. Real ones. And you? Living the highsociety dream, palacelike house, billionaire husband. The papers dont lie?
She stared at her own reflection. The woman looking back wore a silk dressing gown, hair done in a salon that cost more than most peoples rent. Not the exhausted, tearstreaked mess hed tossed out the door with two duffel bags of baby gear.
Is that a problem for your new sugardad? Tossing the exhusbands exwife a little freedom?
My business didnt go down, understand? Id dabbled in crypto and it crashed. I need cash to settle scores with people who dont forget.
Claire imagined him saying it, slumped in a chair with that same brazen grin, certain shed crumble again, that the guilt hed been feeding her for years would finally snap.
You left us on the street in winter, Glen. Do you recall what Molly said when we were waiting at the station?
Spare me the melodrama. Im not asking for a mansion. £60,000. For you thats pocket change. Pay for my silence, if you want.
Silence? About what?
About the price you paid for this sweet life. Think your dadinlaw will be thrilled if I spill a few spicy details about our past?
The door to the closet swung open and David stepped in, calm, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. He saw her face, frowned, and asked silently, All right?
Claire met his steady gaze, listening to Glens hiss on the speaker. Two worlds collided: the one shed built, and the one he was trying to shatter.
So, Claire? Glen pressed on. Will you help a poor relative? If in a year hes crawling on his knees begging for cash, his affairs must be truly rotten.
She gave David a slow nod, signalling that she had things under control. For the first time in the call her voice carried a different tonecold, razorsharp rather than fearful.
When and where? she asked.
They arranged to meet at a nondescript café in the town centre mall. Blaring pop music, the smell of buttery popcorn, teenagers laughing the perfect spot for a scream to go unheard.
Claires old habit of sorting problems where she least wanted to make a scene resurfaced.
Glen was already sitting at a table, his suit trying hard to look expensive but ending up cheapshiny. He lazily stirred his drink with a spoon.
Youre late, he said without a greeting, not even looking up. Its rude to keep a fathers kids waiting.
Claire slipped into the chair opposite him, set her handbag on the table and kept her grip firm. It felt safer that way.
I wont give you £60,000, Glen.
Oh? he finally lifted his gaze, envy flickering as he took in her dress and the ring on her finger. Changed your mind? I could just call your David now, get his numberno problem.
I can offer you £300,000 and a job. David has connections, he
Glen laughed, a loud, headthrusting bark that made a few nearby diners glance over.
A job? You expect me to trot around interviews like some schoolboy? Youve forgotten who I am, Claire. Im a businessman! I need startup capital, not handouts.
His tone hardened; he leaned forward, lowering his voice.
You sit there, all prim and proper. Think I dont know how you got where you are? You told him I was a monster and you a helpless lamb. Remember the night you called, a week before meeting him, crying, begging him to take you back? Hell love hearing that.
Every word struck at Claires deepest fearthat David would see her as the broken, dependent woman shed once been.
She quietly slid a cheque book across the table, still hoping for a compromise, still trying to resolve things nicely.
Ill write you a cheque for £10,000, her voice came out low. Thats the most I can do. Take it and disappear from our lives, please.
Glen snatched the slip with two fingers, held it to his eyes, studied it like a jewel. Then, with a slow smile, tore it into four pieces.
You think youve humiliated me? he hissed. £10,000? Thats your tribute for the years Ive wasted on you? For the children?
He flung the torn bits onto the glossy tabletop; they fell like dead butterflies.
£60,000, Claire. Or I wont disappear. Ill become your nightmare. Ill call, text, turn up after school, tell the kids who their real dad is. You have a week.
He stood, tossed a crumpled note onto the table for his drink, and left without looking back.
Claire sat motionless, watching the shredded cheque. The music blared, people laughed, and inside her something hardened like stone. Fear turned to icy resolve. The attempt at a settlement had failedcompletely, humiliatingly.
The week stretched like a drawnout torture. She barely slept, jolting at every ring. She searched for an exit, but dread clung like wet plaster. She feared not just herself, but the life David had given her and the children.
On the seventh day she was hit.
Shed just collected the kids from an art class; Molly was unusually quiet. At home, tucking her daughter into bed, Claire saw a bright candy on a stick in Mollys handsomething shed never bought.
Where did you get that, Molly?
The girls eyes widened with fear as she whispered:
Uncle gave it to me. Said he was my real dad and would soon take us away from bad Uncle David. Mum, were not going with Davids dad?
Something clicked inside Claire. Fear and panic vanished, leaving a cold void that quickly filled with something elsesolid, unyielding.
Hed dared to go after her children. Hed used them.
Enough.
That evening, when David came home from work, a different woman met him at the door. Her eyes were dry, her stare straight and hard.
We need to talk, she said without preamble, dragging him to a chair in the office.
She laid it all outno tears, no excuses. How Glen had thrown her out with the kids, how shed spent nights in the stairwell, how shed lived in shame, how shed feared the past destroying the present, and how today hed approached Molly.
David listened in silence, his face turning to stone with every word. When she finished, he asked nothing. He simply
What do you want to do? he asked, his voice even, calm power underneath.
I want him gone. Forever. But not the way he thinks. Im not paying him. I want him to realise he made the biggest mistake of his life.
She looked David straight in the eye and, for the first time, saw not only love and care but full approval of her darkest side.
Ten minutes later she dialed Glen. Her hands no longer trembled.
Im in, she said flatly. £60,000. Noon tomorrow. Ill send the address. Come yourself.
Glen snorted smugly into the handset:
Clever girl. Took you long enough.
She hung up. The address shed send wasnt a bank or a restaurant; it was the headquarters of David Orwells corporation.
Glen entered the glass tower with a victors swagger, shoulders back in his finest suit, admiring the cold luxury of the marble lobby. He walked his own version of justice as he saw it.
He was escorted to the fortieth floor, a conference room with floortoceiling windows that made the city look like a toy set.
Claire was already there, seated at the head of a long table, composed and steady in a deep navy dress. Beside her sat David, and a few seats further a sternfaced stranger.
Have a seat, Glen, Claire gestured to the chair opposite.
His confidence wavered a touch. Hed expected a trembling woman with a suitcase of cash.
Whats this then? he asked, nodding toward David. A family meeting? I thought wed talked.
You were talking to my family, David replied evenly, never breaking eye contact. This is different.
Claire slid a thick dossier across the table.
£60,000, Glen. You wanted it. Handing it over plain would be boring. We decided to invest it in you.
Glen stared at the folder, bewildered.
Whats this?
Your business, explained the stonefaced man, the head of Davids security. The remnants of it. Debts, a couple of fraud cases about to surface. Very risky assets.
He opened the folder. Inside were copies of court orders, bank statements, photographs of his meetings with unsavory characters. His face changed colour.
Weve cleared your most urgent debts, Claire continued. The ones that would have waited for a verdict. Consider it a gift. In return
David placed a few sheets and a pen on the table.
In return you sign this. Complete renunciation of parental rights. And a threeyear employment contract.
Glen burst into a manic laugh.
Have you lost your mind? Me, working for you?
Not for you, David clarified. For one of our subcontractors. In Yorkshire. Foreman on a construction site. Decent pay, standard conditions. Youll be back after three years, debtfree and with a clean record.
Youre kidding! Glen shouted, springing to his feet. Ill ruin you! Ill tell everyone!
Youll tell, the security chief said, tapping the dossier. But after that your words will be worth less than this paper. And these documents will end up on a detectives desk today. The choice is yours.
Glen scanned their facesClaires calm, Davids iron, the guards indifferent. No doubt, no chance. He was trapped.
He sank heavily into the chair, bravado melting like cheap gilt. Before him sat not a predator but a cornered, pitiful jackal.
His hand, shaking, reached for the pen.
When the final signature was set, Claire rose, walked around the table and stopped directly in front of him.
You said if a man crawls on his knees a year later, his affairs are truly rotten, she reminded quietly.
Youre not on your knees, Glen. Just the floors too pricey here. Youve got your startup capital. Time to begin a new life.
She turned and left without looking back. David followed, laying a hand on her shoulder.
In the vast conference room, under the indifferent stare of the guard, the broken man remained seatedthe winner who had lost everything.
