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"What money?"
"Don't fuck with me," I laughed humorlessly. "Meredith's life insurance." He pressed his lips into a thin line.
"I'm planning on giving it to Emma when she turns eighteen. It's what Mer would've wanted."
Mer.
She hated when I called her that. Apparently, it was fine for him to do it.
"Don't bother," I said. "We don't want your money."
"It's Mer's—"
"It's yours now," I said. "And I don't want it."
"Well, it's not yours," he countered. "It'll be Emma's. When she gets older, she'll have the choice." I set the coffee and bag on the closest table and stepped up to him, my chest brushing his.
"If you ever come near my daughter, I will fucking kill you," I said, glaring at him. I was taller by an inch, but I used it to my advantage and looked down my nose at him. "Do you understand me?"
"Elliot—"
"Do you understand me?" I snarled. "I won't hesitate. I will fucking slaughter you."
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then his eyes narrowed and any fear he just had was gone. A cocky smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. "Has Emma told you about the times she came swimming at my place? She loves Uncle Drake's pool."
"Excuse me?" My body heated as rage took over.
"Meredith would bring her over on the weekends, when you were busy working." He grinned triumphantly. "We had a great time together—like we were a family. But you wouldn't know what that's like, would you?"
My hands tightened into fists at my sides. It took everything I had not to punch him in the fucking face.
"You barely had any time for your wife," he said. "Maybe if you would've cared, she wouldn't have needed me."
"Me?" I blinked at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"She told me everything," he said. "I know." I shook my head.
Yeah, I worked a lot toward the end of our marriage. But it was so I could be away from her. And a sick part of me hoped that if I could just make more money, be more of a provider for her, that she'd choose me.
A red haze clouded my vision as I stared at his smug face. Like he was happy about his role he'd had in ruining my life, my marriage. My family.
"If I ever find out you've talked to Emma, I'll kill you."
"Yeah," he sighed. "You said that."
My hand shot up and wrapped around his throat. I squeezed, bringing his face closer to mine. He made a gurgling, shocked sound as someone let out a scream.
"I'll kill you," I said again, quieter so no one else could hear. People stood from their seats, some scattered back, a few moved forward. I smiled at him, tightening my hold.
Panic filled his eyes and his hand reached up and wrapped around my wrist. A silent plea to let go. With a final squeeze, I let go, shoving him backward.
It wasn't worth doing anything else to him. Not when I had Reagan. Not when I had Emma. My girls. My family.
"I hope to never see you again," I said. "Keep the money. Take your wife on a nice vacation." He rubbed at his throat as people surrounded him. A man stepped between us, but I just grinned and grabbed my bag and cup off the table.
As I shoved the door open, I saluted him with two fingers, feigning a cockiness and calmness I didn't feel. He glared back at me, his hand still on his reddening throat.
* * *
