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"Hey, Hannah, fancy seeing you here. I thought you would've taken advantage of me not being here to do some shopping on the company credit card."
She hugs me, and there's the tiniest little sob. It does nothing to help the lump that's been growing in my throat since I saw how much my family has cared about me.
"Get back to work, okay?" I say softly, and she nods, wiping her eyes, while everyone suddenly finds something in the floor or carpet really interesting.
Her face hardens and she leans and whispers, "Matthias... you have some people here to see you."
"Who?"
She swallows. Whoever it is, she doesn’t even want to tell me. That can't be good. Can't be worse than the police, though.
I run into my office and see them, sitting on my couch like they fucking own it.
Terry, Gerry and fucking Patrick.
The three fuckerteers.
This has got to be some sort of sick joke.
Patrick looks better than I expected him to. His left arm is in a sling and his face is basically one giant bruise. Too bad it doesn't cover up how dog shit ugly he is.
"What the fuck are you three doing here?" I fume.
"You two"—I point my fingers at Terry and Gerry—"aren't even supposed to be in New York."
In the background, I hear footsteps as everyone follows me into the office, seeing the shit show in front of me. I hear a woman gasp, or maybe it's all three.
I don't blame them.
Seeing all three of them here is like a sign of the apocalypse.
"Matthias, how are you feeling, son?" Gerry asks, saccharine sweet, and it makes me want to actually throw up.
I take a step towards them. "Just answer the question. Actually, you know what? Just get the fuck out. All three of you."
He stands up, tugging on his shirt cuffs. "I don't think that's going to happen, son."
Anger swarms around me. "Gerry, I swear to God, if you call me 'son' one more time, I'm going to break every fucking bone in your body."
He sighs and shrugs. "It's exactly these violent tendencies that have you gotten into this... pickle, son. We're going to have to do something about this."
"You don't have to do anything about it.Iwill take care of it."
Terry steps forward, and I can't help looking over to see Clarissa covering her mouth with her hand. I wonder if she'd seen him since he disowned her. If I had to decide, I don't know who I want to kill more, Clarissa's uncle or my uncle.
Terry speaks, "I'm sorry, Matthias. But I don't know if you understand how serious this is. Look at what you did to Patrick. You know that you're going away for this."
The thing is, I do know. I know this got way out of hand, and that there are going to be repercussions. I couldn't do anything from the cell. But they're wasting my precious time now.
"Patrick, tell Matthias what the ADA said to you."
Patrick coughs and winces, grabbing his side. It fills me with a sick sense of satisfaction. "Grievous bodily harm, second degree. You're looking at some hard jail time."
"It was worth it if it stopped you from doing the same to Clarissa. Don't pretend that you're some victim. Why don't you tell them what you were going to instead, and see how many are on your side?"
Patrick poses, turning to Clarissa, his voice filled with deception. "I was just there to talk, Clarissa. I swear, I was just there to talk."
Clarissa lets out a little choked gasp and My-Linh and Kiara immediately flank her, taking her hands in theirs.
