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“We’re willing to offer a two-point-five-million-dollar settlement. It’s a one-time fee, and it includes Mrs. Woodson signing over her rights to both boys,” Mr. Long says.
“That will never happen!” Emily yells, her outrage more about the amount than the request to relinquish her rights. “I love those boys too much to ever do that!”
“One of those boys almost died so you could go fuck that piece of shit,” I growl, pointing at Cory who thankfully keeps his mouth shut.
I didn’t plan on getting arrested today, but it’s a real possibility if he tries to stand up against me.
“You haven’t so much as asked about them in three weeks, Emily. Take the fucking money because the amount won’t ever go up.”
She narrows her eyes at me, then as if it comes as a secondary thought to her anger, she flinches away. The movement is so unrelated to me even her attorney sighs in disappointment.
I’ve never raised my hand to this woman, and the only reason I sit back down is because it reminds me of how Madison reacted last night when she asked me if she was safe around me. There are real victims out there, and it’s people like Emily who make it to where their stories are questioned because of lies.
“This meeting is over,” she says once she realizes that it isn’t going togo her way.
I’m done with being manipulated by her. She wants a higher number, but the second I give her one is her green light to keep on asking. She’ll never be satisfied until she bleeds me dry, and I’ll be damned if I worked so hard and took the pain from being a professional athlete just so she could take it all from me.
I stand and walk out of the room first, wishing I’d taken Madison and the boys to the hotel first so I could escape before Emily made it around the far side of the conference room table.
Chapter 12
Madison
I’m not the type of person to get starstruck. I had the opportunity to be around enough famous people in Austin when I was still involved with Sam, that that quick kick in the chest someone gets at seeing someone famous has turned into a dull hum.
But I gasp at the sight of Emily Woodson. Not because she’s famous, but there’s just something about being in front of someone so damned beautiful. She’s so breathtakingly gorgeous, that her walking into the room behind Chase floors me for a second.
Instinctively, I lift my hand to check my hair, but there’s honestly no comparison. I dressed in loungewear for the trip, and since we came straight from the airport to here, I’m still in leggings and a frumpy long-sleeved shirt.
Emily, on the other hand, is in a designer suit, looking like a goddess who clearly didn’t get woken abruptly after a night of hardly any sleep. She isn’t bedraggled with bags under her eyes. She has the perfect amount of dew to her skin. Her makeup is flawless and expertly done. The eyeliner I put on at the airport to try and make myself more presentable before giving up is still crooked from the rude woman in the bathroom who bumped into me and didn’t say excuse me.
Chase steps closer to me as I stand, leaving the boys sitting on the small sofa, watching a cartoon on the iPad Chase packed for them to share.
I look back at them, calling their names softly, but when they look up, they don’t get excited to see their mother standing there. Oddly, she doesn’t rush to them either.
Her focus is on Chase, making me feel like an interloper.
Cory Jackson, the man she cheated with, is standing a few feet away, looking like he’s a little afraid to get any closer. After reading the articles about the altercation that happened in the locker room, his distance doesn’t surprise me.
“Who is this?” Emily asks, barely wasting a glance in my direction.
She has already sized me up and determined I’m no threat to her. I hate the way it makes me feel inside, as if I’m back in high school and the senior cheerleaders are laughing at me like they did that time I thought it would be a good idea to try out for the cheer squad. It’s not healthy, but I’ve hated cheerleaders ever since that day.
I instantly grow angry and protective of myself.
“I’m sorry, your what?” Emily asks, her eyes blinking rapidly, the way they would if she heard something completely absurd.
Chase’s arm goes around my shoulder, and I’m too stunned to argue. Nothing makes sense right now.
“My girlfriend.”
I tilt my head in confusion much the same way Emily tilts hers.
“We dated in high school and recently reconnected,” he says, his lies growing bigger.
We most certainly did not.
That’s what I should say, but I take a silent moment to just put all the clues I’ve been given together.
