He threw me out onto the street with the two children, but a year later he fell to his knees and begged me for money
Hello, dragonfly, a familiar voice crackled in my ear until it made my stomach turn. Didn’t expect me?
Emma froze, a bottle of perfume still clasped in her hand. The air in the cloakroom, heavy with sandalwood and the scent of ambition, suddenly turned thick and sticky, like the hallway of the council block where she had once slept with the kids.
What do you want, Glen?
She forced herself to speak plainly, refusing to glance at the laughter of Michael and Ivy drifting up from the nursery.
Straight to business. No how are you? or what’s new? Were not strangers, Emma. Remember, we have two children.
He smiled. The sound scraped her nerves like a rusted nail on glass. A whole year she hadn’t heard that grin, that tone that claimed his right over her, over her life.
I remember. What. You. Need?
Emma set the perfume bottle on the marble countertop. Her fingers trembled, but her voice stayed steady. She had learned that.
Money.
Short and simple. No apologies. No preamble. He hadn’t changed.
You serious?
Do I look like a joker? anger cut through his words. I’m in trouble, Emma. Serious trouble. And you? Living the high life, palace, billionaire husband. The papers dont lie?
She stared at her reflection. A woman in a silk dressing gown, hair done in a salon. Not the exhausted, tearstained wreck he had tossed out with two duffel bags of children’s clothes.
Is this a problem for your new sugardad? Throwing a few pennies at his exwifes life?
Business didnt go well, you see? Cryptos collapsed. He needs cash to settle debts with people who dont forget.
Emma imagined him, slumped in a chair, that same smug grin, convinced she would break again. That guilt hed cultivated for years would finally work.
You threw us out in winter, Glen. Do you recall what Ivy said when we were waiting at the station?
Spare me the melodrama. Im not asking for a manor. £60,000. Pocket change for you. Pay for my silence, if you like.
Silence? About what?
About the price you paid for this sweet life. Think your Mr. Orwell will be pleased if I spill a few spicy details about our past?
The door to the cloakroom swung open and David stepped in, calm, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. He saw Emmas face, frowned, and asked silently, All right?
Emma watched his caring gaze and heard Glens hiss over the handset. Two worlds: the one shed built, and the one that came to crumble it.
So, Emma? Glen pressed on. Will you help a poor relative? If a year from now hes crawling on his knees begging for cash, his affairs are truly rotten.
She gave David a slow nod, signalling that she had everything under control. For the first time a cold, sharp edge slipped into her voice, not fear.
When and where? she asked.
They met in a featureless café inside a sprawling shopping centre. Loud pop music, the smell of popcorn, teenagers laughter the perfect spot for a scream that no one would hear.
Emmas old habit of solving problems where nobody wanted a scene came back to life.
Glen was already at a table, his suit trying to look expensive but flashing cheap shine. He lazily stirred his juice with a spoon.
Late, he said instead of greeting, not even looking up. Hard to make a father wait for his kids.
Emma sat opposite him, bag on the table, hands never letting go. It felt safer.
I wont give you £60,000, Glen.
Really? he finally met her eyes, envy flickering as he took in her dress, the ring on her finger. Changed your mind? I could just call your David now. Getting his number isnt a problem.
I can offer £300,000 and a job. David has connections, he
Glen laughed loudly, throwing his head back. A few people at neighboring tables turned.
A job? Youre serious? You think Ill go knocking on interview doors like a lad? Youve forgotten who I am, Emma. Im a businessman! I need startup capital, not handouts.
His voice hardened, he leaned forward and lowered it:
You sit here, all prim. Think I dont know how you got him? Told him I was a monster while you were the poor lamb? Remember the night you called, a week before meeting him, sobbing into the phone, begging to come back? Hell love to hear that.
Each sentence landed like a hammer on her deepest fearthat David would see her as the broken, dependent woman she once was.
Emma quietly produced a cheque book, still hoping for a compromise, still trying to settle nicely.
Ill write you a cheque for £10,000, her voice came out hollow. Thats the most I can do. Take it and disappear from our lives. Please.
She slid the paper across.
Glen took the cheque with two fingers, lifted it to his eyes, studying it as if it were a jewel. Then, with slow, delighted cruelty, he tore it into four pieces.
You think youve humiliated me? he hissed. £10,000? Thats your thanks for the years I spent on you? For the children?
He flung the fragments onto the glossy tabletop, they fluttered like dead butterflies.
£60,000, Emma. Or I wont vanish. Ill become your curse. Ill call, text, pick up the kids after school, tell them who their real dad is. You have one week.
He stood, tossed a few crumpled notes onto the table for his juice, and left without looking back.
Emma sat motionless, staring at the torn cheque. Music roared, people laughed, and inside her something hardened to stone. Fear turned into icy resolve. The negotiation had collapsed, humiliatingly, finally.
The week stretched like torture. Emma barely slept, jolting at every ring. She searched for an exit, but dread clung like a sticky fog. She feared not herself, but the life David had given her and the children.
On the seventh day he struck.
When she collected the kids from the art club, Ivy was unusually quiet. At home, tucking her daughter into bed, Emma saw a bright candy on a stick in Ivys hand something she never bought.
Where did you get that, Ivy? Emma asked.
The little girls eyes widened, and she whispered:
Uncle gave me a treat today. Said hes my real dad and will soon take us away from bad Uncle David. Mum, wont we go with Daddy David?
Something clicked loudly inside Emma. Fear and panic vanished, leaving a cold void that filled with something else solid, unbreakable.
Hed dared to reach for her children. To use them.
Enough.
That evening, when David came home from work, a different woman was waiting. Her eyes were dry, her gaze sharp and unyielding.
We need to talk, she said, placing him in a chair in the study without preamble.
She told everything no tears, no excuses. How Glen had thrown her out with the kids, how shed slept in the council block, the humiliation, the years of fearing the past would ruin the present, and how today he had approached Ivy.
David listened in silence, his face hardening with each word. When she finished, he asked nothing. He simply
What do you want to do? he asked, his voice even, yet powerful in its calm.
I want him gone. Forever. But not the way he expects. Im not paying him. I want him to realize he made the biggest mistake of his life.
She looked straight into his eyes 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.
I agree, she said evenly. £60,000. Tomorrow at noon. Ill send the address. Come yourself.
Glen smirked into the handset:
Ah, clever as ever. Been a while.
She hung up. The address she would send wasnt a bank or a restaurant. It was the headquarters of David Orwells corporation.
Glen entered the glass tower, feeling like a victor. He straightened his shoulders in his best suit, admiring the cold luxury of the marble lobby. He strode down to his justice, as he called it.
They took him to the fortieth floor, into a conference room with a panoramic window that made the city look like a model town.
Emma was already there, seated at the head of a long table, composed and serene in a dark navy dress. Beside her sat David, and a few steps away a stranger with an unreadable face.
Sit, Glen, Emma indicated the chair opposite her.
Glens confidence wavered. Hed expected her frightened, a suitcase of cash in hand.
Whats this, a family council? he glanced at David. I thought wed made a deal.
You made a deal with my family, David replied, his gaze unbroken. This is something else.
Emma slid a thick dossier toward him.
£60,000, Glen. You wanted it. But handing it over is too boring. We decided to invest it in you.
Glen stared, bewildered.
Whats that?
Your business, explained the stonefaced man, who turned out to be Davids head of security. Precisely, whats left of it. Debts, a couple of fraud cases about to hit the courts. Highrisk assets.
He opened the file. Inside were copies of writs, bank statements, photos of his meetings with unsavory characters. His face turned a shade paler.
Weve cleared your most urgent debts, Emma continued. For those who would have waited for a verdict. Consider it a gift. In return
David placed a few sheets and a pen on the table.
You sign this. Full renunciation of parental rights. And a threeyear employment contract.
Glen burst into a hysterical laugh.
Youve lost your mind? Me? Working for you?
Not for me, David clarified. For one of our subcontractors. In Yorkshire, foreman on a construction site. Decent pay. Conditions worklike. Youll be back in three years, debtfree and with a clean record.
Get lost! Glen screeched, leaping up. Ill ruin you! Ill tell everyone!
Youll tell, the security chief nodded, tapping the folder. 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 faces: Emmas calm, Davids steel, the security mans indifference. 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, trembling, grasped the pen.
When the final signature was inked, Emma rose, walked around the table, and stopped directly in front of him.
You said if a man crawls on his knees a year later asking for money, his affairs are rotten, she whispered.
Youre not on your knees, Glen. Just the floor is too pricey here. Youve got your startup capital. Begin anew.
She turned and left without looking back. David followed, laying a hand on her shoulder.
In the vast conference room, under the indifferent gaze of the security chief, the defeated man remained seateda winner who had lost everything.
