You chucked me and the kids out onto the street, yet a year later youre on your knees begging for cash
Hello, dragonfly, crackled the familiar voice in my ear, sounding as tired as a commuter on the morning tube. Didnt expect me?
Milly froze, a bottle of perfume still clenched in her hand. The air in the dressing room, scented with sandalwood and a whiff of success, suddenly grew heavy and sticky, like the hallway where shed spent a night with the children a year ago.
What do you want, Graham? she forced herself to speak evenly, trying not to glance at the snickering of Tom and Clara coming from the nursery.
Straight to business, then. No hows life? or whats new? Were not strangers, Milly. Ive got two kids, remember.
He grinned. The sound scratched at her nerves like a rusty nail on glass. A whole year she hadnt heard that grin, that tone that tried to claim a right over her, over her life.
I remember. What do you need?
Milly set the perfume bottle on the marble counter. Her fingers trembled, but her voice held steady. Shed learned that trick.
Money.
Short, simple. No apologies, no preamble. He hadnt changed a bit.
Youre serious?
Do I look like a joker? his voice snapped with anger. Ive got real problems, Milly. Serious ones. And you, I hear, are living the dream: a mansion, a billionaire husband, the tabloids dont lie, do they?
She stared at her reflection. The woman looking back wore a silk dressing gown and had a haircut that screamed designer salon, not the exhausted, tearstained mess hed thrown out with two bags of childrens stuff.
Is that a problem for your new sugardad? Dumping the exhusbands exwife back onto the street?
Hed lost his crypto venture, his business was collapsing, and he needed cash to settle scores with some very serious folk.
Milly imagined him, slumped in a chair, flashing that same brazen smile, convinced shed crumble again, that the guilt hed gnawed at her for years would finally bite.
You kicked us out in winter, Graham. Remember what Clara said when we were waiting at the station?
Spare me the melodrama. Im not asking for a palace. £60,000. Thats pocket change for you. Pay for my silence, if youre so keen.
Silence? About what?
About the price you paid for this sweet life. Think your bloke Orton will be thrilled if I spill a few juicy details from our past?
The dressingroom door swung open and David stepped in, calm, confident, in an immaculate suit. He saw Millys face, frowned, and silently asked, All right?
Milly glanced at Davids caring eyes, then at Grahams hiss over the phone. Two worlds: the one shed built, and the one he was trying to tear down.
So, Milly? Graham pressed on. Will you help a poor relative? If hes on his knees a year from now begging for money, things are really grim.
She gave David a slow nod, signalling that she had things under control. For the first time during this call, a cold, sharp edge slipped into her voice.
When and where? she asked.
They met in a bland café inside a shopping centre. Loud pop music, the smell of popcorn, teenage giggles the perfect spot for a scream that no one would hear.
Millys old habit of dealing with problems where she least wanted a scene came in handy.
Graham was already at the table, a suit that tried to look expensive but shouted budget. He lazily stirred his juice with a spoon.
Fashionably late, he said without looking up. Not very polite to keep a father of two waiting.
Milly sat opposite him, put her bag on the table and kept a firm grip on it. It felt safer.
Im not giving you £60,000, Graham.
Oh really? he finally met her eyes, a thin veil of envy flickering as he took in her dress, her ring. Changed your mind? I could just call your mate Dave, get his number, no problem.
I can offer you £300,000 and a job. Dave has connections, he
He laughed loudly, throwing his head back. A few nearby diners glanced over.
A job? You think Im some junior applying for interviews? Remember who I am, Milly. Im a businessman. I need startup capital, not handouts.
His voice hardened, he leaned forward and lowered his tone:
You sit there all proper. Do you really think I dont know how you got there? You told Dave I was a monster and you a poor lamb? And that you called me a week before meeting him, sobbing, begging to be taken back? I bet hed love to hear that.
Each word landed like a punch, aiming at her biggest fear that David would see her as the broken, dependent old version.
Milly silently pulled out a cheque book, still hoping for a compromise, still trying to resolve things nicely.
Ill write you a cheque for £10,000, her voice came out hoarse. Thats the most I can do. Take it and disappear from our lives, please.
She slid the paper across.
Graham took the cheque with two fingers, held it up to his eyes, studied it as if it were a jewel. Then, with a slow, satisfied grin, tore it into four pieces.
You think thats a humiliation? he hissed. £10,000? Thats your thanks for the years I wasted on you? For the kids?
He tossed the torn bits onto the table. They fluttered like dead butterflies on the glossy surface.
£60,000, Milly. Either take it or I wont go away. Ill be your curse: calls, texts, picking the kids up after school, telling them who their real dad is. Youve got one week.
He stood, flung a few crumpled notes onto the table for his juice, and left without looking back.
Milly sat frozen, watching the shredded cheque. The music blared, people laughed, and inside her something hardened. Fear melted into icy resolve. The negotiation had failed, humiliatingly, finally.
The week stretched like a bad sitcom. Milly barely slept, jolted by every ring. She searched for an exit, but sticky dread clung to her thoughts. She wasnt scared for herself she was scared for the life David had given her and the children.
On the seventh day, disaster struck.
She collected the kids from an art club; Clara was uncharacteristically quiet. At home, putting her daughter to bed, Milly saw a bright lollipop in Claras hand one shed never bought.
Where did you get that, Clara?
The little girls eyes widened with fear as she whispered:
Uncle gave it to me. He said hes my real dad and would soon take us away from bad Uncle Dave. Mum, arent we going to live with Daddy Dave?
Something clicked inside Milly. Fear and panic vanished, replaced by a cold, solid emptiness that quickly filled with something tougher defiance.
He dared to approach her children. To use them.
Enough.
That evening, when David came home from work, a different woman was waiting. Her eyes were dry, her stare sharp and unflinching.
We need to talk, she said, pushing him into a chair in the office.
She told everything, without tears or excuses: how Graham had driven her out with the kids, how shed slept in a stairwell, how shed lived in fear that the past would ruin the present, and how today hed tried to get to Clara.
David listened in silence, his face hardening with each sentence. When she finished, he asked nothing. He simply said:
What do you want to do?
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 straight into his eyes and, for the first time, saw not just love and care but full approval of the darker part of herself.
Ten minutes later she dialed Graham. Her hands no longer trembled.
Im in, she said evenly. £60,000. Tomorrow at noon. Ill send the address. Come yourself.
Grahams voice on the speaker sneered:
Ah, clever girl. Took you long enough.
She hung up. The address she would send wasnt a bank or a restaurant; it was the headquarters of David Ortons company.
Graham strutted into the glass skyscraper, looking like a victor. He straightened his shoulders in his best suit, admiring the cold opulence of the lobby. He walked straight to his justice, his twisted sense of fairness.
They escorted him to the fortieth floor, into a conference room with a floortoceiling window that made the city look like a toy set.
Milly was already there, seated at the head of the long table, composed and calm in a sleek navy dress. Beside her sat David, and a few seats away a sternlooking security chief.
Have a seat, Graham, Milly gestured to the chair opposite.
His confidence wavered a fraction. Hed expected a frightened woman with a suitcase full of cash.
Whats this circus? he nodded toward David. Family council? I thought wed made a deal.
You made a deal with my family, David replied, his gaze unflinching. This is different.
Milly slid a thick folder across the table.
£60,000, Graham. You wanted it. But just handing it over would be boring. Weve decided to invest it in you.
Graham stared at the folder, bewildered.
Whats that?
Your business, explained the security chief, his face as hard as granite. Basically, whats left of it: debts, a couple of pending fraud cases that were about to go to court. Highrisk assets.
He flipped through the folder: copies of writs, bank statements, photos of his meetings with unsavory characters. His complexion changed.
Weve cleared your most urgent debts, Milly continued. The ones that would have waited for a verdict. Consider it a gift. In exchange
David placed a few sheets and a pen on the table.
In exchange you sign this. Full renunciation of parental rights and a threeyear employment contract.
Graham burst into a nearmanic laugh.
Youre mad! Me, working for you?
Not for me, David clarified. For one of our subsidiaries.
In the Yorkshire Dales. As a foreman on a construction site. Decent pay, proper conditions. Youll be back in three years, debtfree and with a clean record.
Youve got to be kidding! Graham shouted, jumping up. Ill destroy you! Ill tell everyone!
Tell, the security chief tapped the folder with his finger. 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.
Graham scanned their faces: Millys calm, Davids steely, the chiefs impassive. No doubt, no chance. He was cornered.
He sank heavily into his seat. All his bravado dissolved like cheap gilt. He was no longer a predator but a cornered jackal.
His trembling hand grasped the pen.
When the final signature was inked, Milly rose, walked around the table and stopped directly in front of him.
You said if a man crawls on his knees a year after asking for money, his affairs are terrible, she reminded him softly.
Youre not on your knees, Graham. Just that the floor here is too expensive. Youve got your startup capital. Time to begin a new life.
She turned and left the room without looking back. David followed, laying a hand on her shoulder.
In the massive conference room, under the indifferent stare of the security chief, sat a broken man the winner who had lost everything.
