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I fix her with a steely gaze. She laughs. Then, as I continue to look at her, she lowers her eyes, and her cheeks stain red.
Titus gets out of the car and leans on the door. His clothes, haircut, and bearing all ooze wealth. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see they’re beginning to understand who the girl they mistreated has hooked up with.
“So what do you want?” Greta snaps. “There’s nothing here of Trinny’s. I threw everything out when she left.”
“Anything she needs or wants, I’ll buy it for her,” I state.
“Hope you checked her ginger cunt for STDs,” the younger girl says.
“She slept with half of Auckland,” Greta adds. “Fucking slag.”
Both the girls laugh.
At that moment, I realize how, coming from such a privileged upbringing, I hadn’t really understood how anyone could have experienced what she’d claimed, and a little part of me had wondered whether Catie had exaggerated her story. I thought she’d made her stepmother into a fairy tale villain, and hadn’t believed Greta could truly be that malicious.
I feel a deep sense of regret and shame, and an overpowering hatred for this disgusting human being and her despicable daughters.
I look at the house. “Do you like living here?”
A frown flickers on Greta’s brow. “It’s all right.”
“You should make the most of it,” I tell her. “Because the smart, expensive lawyers I’m going to hire will make sure they strip you of everything you own except the clothes on your back.”
They all stare at me.
“What?” The first hint of panic lights Greta’s eyes.
“I understand that you sold Catriona’s mother’s ring,” I say.
“It belonged to my husband,” she states. “It was mine to sell.”
“It was Catriona’s ring, and you owe her the money for it.”
“It was a fucking cubic zirconia. I got eighty bucks for it.”
“Which you owe her. As well as her father’s inheritance that you stole from her account.”
Catie doesn’t know how much it was, but looking at the shock on Greta’s face, it was considerably more than eighty bucks.
“You can’t do that,” the younger girl snaps. She looks at her mother. “He can’t do that. Can he?”
Greta glares at me. “You think you can waltz in here with your snazzy suits and your poncy aftershave and intimidate me? Who the fuck do you think you are? Niamh O’Clery was a whore, and so is her daughter. And you’re a fucking mug if you’ve let her convince you that you’re the father of her brats. She’s opened her legs for practically every guy in the city. She’s a fat, ugly, ginger slag.” She’s almost spitting with vitriol.
In seconds, the lava running through my veins turns to ice.
The sensible part of me recognizes that Catie’s father’s affair destroyed this woman, and his insistence that his lover’s daughter come and live with them was the last straw for her. She’s a victim herself, and she deserves pity for the suffering she’s been through.
But Kip once bought me a mock-up of the Bayeux Tapestry that said ‘Behold the field in which I grow my fucks. Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren.’ I have no fucks left to give this woman. And I consider myself a gentleman, but she’s just shoved me past the limit of my gallantry.
Titus pushes off the car and comes to stand next to me. I don’t know if he’s as mad as I am, or if he’s worried that I’m going to do something I’ll regret.
“Catie is a nice girl,” I say. “Gentle and forgiving. Considerably more than I am. So you’d better hope that now she’s settled and happy, she decides to forgive you for how you treated her. Because if she decides to prosecute you for your mistreatment of her—and I’m going to encourage her to do that with every cell in my body—I’ll make sure you all go to prison for what you did, you fucking bitches.”
I have the pleasure of seeing all three of them go white in the space of seconds. Then I turn and walk back to the car.
“Let’s go,” I say to Titus, and he gets into the car without a word.
He does a three-point turn, and a few seconds later we’re heading north toward the city.
