Chapter 8
I retorted, “Your skin is thicker than an old leather jacket. You jetted off with your mistress.
I
holiday and ditched work I wouldn’t dare pull that stunt.”
When those words left Clyde’s mouth, I knew what was unfolding. It looked like the client finally caught up to him. If my memory served me right, the project plans were set in stone ages ago. Their reaching out to me likely meant they wanted some revisions.
I was on top of this project a few months back, but life hit me like a freight train, and my work was the last thing on my mind.
I couldn’t recall if it was Kayla hanging on Clyde’s arm back then, but someone was, and clearly, he couldn’t care less about me. He handed my responsibilities over to someone else and even had the nerve to dock my pay. I used to get a paycheck, but I’d got zilch.
He probably thought I was dead broke, desperate enough to come crawling back. But he was dead wrong. I wouldn’t back down, especially when I was in the right.
When we were dating, he could never win an argument with me. Then, weakened by illness but with a mind sharper than ever, he’d got no chance.
I fought back. “Oh, so only pop up when there’s a problem, huh? Around when there’s work, disappear when there’s nothing to do?”
“A man of your caliber failing at a single project, Mr. Patterson? Needing to summon your wife to clean up your mess?”
“Or can’t you live without me, huh? Spare me the disgust.”
I’ve been feeling better these days, and with some cash to fund my treatments, I’m standing on firmer ground, especially after I checked last night. It wouldn’t be against the law even if I broke into his safe and took every last dime. We never signed a prenup, so technically, half of his wealth was mine.
At worst, I’d be accused of damaging my property, and the cops couldn’t care less,
What would be the better option, dying from this disease or putting up with his lectures? I guessed the latter would be better. At least that way, I wouldn’t die.
I felt emboldened, and my voice grew louder. Clyde didn’t expect me to stand up to him like that after biting my tongue for three years, leaving him at a loss for words.
I was about to hang up, done arguing, when he sneered. “Classic Melanie, finally revealing your true colors, huh? Thought you could keep up the act? Claiming you’re in the hospital, playing the sympathy card? You’re truly something.”
“Clyde, I’m in the hospital now.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. He wouldn’t believe me.
Chapter 8
And sure enough, his laughter grew louder. “Stop the drama, will you? I checked with the doctor. A single stitch, and you get hospitalized? Think that’ll make me worry? Dream on!” I closed my eyes, pain clutching at my chest.
A scratch on Kayla, Clyde rushed her to the doctor, but my stitch was nothing to him.
Why didn’t he ask why I was at the doctor’s office in the first place? Why didn’t he inquire about my visit to the oncology department? Why didn’t he wonder why the police, not me,
called him?
He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t care. All he saw was a trivial stitch, making him abandon a crucial client meeting and causing Kayla an allergic reaction.
I took a deep breath and replied emotionlessly. “Fine, I’m off to sleep. How else will l dream?”
He exploded. “Wait! This project was always your job. You’re fully responsible for this
mess.
“I quit.” I hung up, fed up with his commanding tone.
A few minutes later, he was ringing me up again.
By the third ring, I snapped. “Clyde, what’s your deal? I said I’m out. Why the endless calls?”
The nurse rushed over, worried I might aggravate my wound.
Clyde cursed something undecipherable on the other end before coldly saying, “You initiated this project, and you’re seeing it through to the end.”
Yelling seemed to have lifted my spirits, and I calmed down a bit. Indeed, the project was mine, nearly finished except for the construction. And with work came pay.
After a few seconds, I asked, “How much are you paying? You never gave me my cut for the last project.”
I hadn’t seen it through then, so they withheld my share.
Clyde flared up. “Melanie, is money all you care about? Is money that important to you?”
I could almost see him grinding his teeth in frustration, especially when he was mad at me, pronouncing my name with such bitter clarity.
I replied indifferently, “Yeah, what else?”
Money meant life to me. Without it, I might as well be dead, and painfully so at that. If money didn’t matter, did he think he did
I closed my eyes, waiting silently for his response.
19.54
Chapter 8
After a long minute, he finally spoke. “Alright, if it’s money you’re after, the whole profit from this project is yours!”
I sighed in relief and added, “Don’t forget my base salary and overtime.”
“You’ll get it all!” He hung up, seething with rage, but I felt much better.
It was great. With the project’s earnings, I wouldn’t have to break into that safe after all.