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She tilted her head, a practiced look of hurt crossing her features. “I’ve been here for your father through everything,” she countered. “His illness has been hard on all of us. I love him, Mila.”
The tension in the room thickened like fog rolling in off the ocean. Her words might have fooled someone who didn’t know her true colors, but not me.
“Brenda,” I said firmly, “love is more than words. It’s action. And if you truly cared for Dad’s wellbeing, you’d see that your presence here is causing more harm than good.”
A flash of anger crossed her face before she smoothed her expression back into one of wounded innocence. “You can’t be serious,” she replied with a touch of venom now creeping into her voice. “You want me to leave? To abandon my husband when he needs me most?”
My anger rose matching hers but fought to keep it at bay. This wasn’t just about me; it was about Chad and Rachel too, and the life we all deserved.
“Yes,” I said quietly but firmly. “I think it’s best for everyone if you go.”
Her lips thinned into a line as she stood up, towering over me in indignation. The room felt smaller somehow, every piece of furniture an obstacle in an already cluttered battlefield.
“I am still Theo’s wife,” she hissed, eyes flaring with defiance. “So no, I am not going anywhere.”
Brenda stormed out of the room with an air of martyrdom that made my stomach churn. The apartment seemed to hold its breath as her footsteps echoed down the hall.
The tension left behind was suffocating—a pressure cooker set to burst—and I knew this was far from over.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mila
The morning light spilled across the linoleum as I scraped burnt toast and wrestled with the decision. Inviting Cass into my home felt like drawing back a curtain on a stage where the props were a little worn and the paint on the walls needed a touch-up. But it was my stage, my life, and if he was going to be part of it, he needed to see the whole picture.
Rachel bounced into the kitchen, her curls a halo of chaos. “Who are you texting?”
“Just a friend,” I replied, tucking away my phone, but not before I hit send on the message to Cass. An invitation to dinner at my place tonight. My stomach knotted at the thought.
Brenda swept in like an unwelcome draft, her eyes narrowing on me. “Who’s coming over?”
I met her gaze, firm and unyielding. “Cassius Portman.”
She let out a derisive snort, but I saw the shift in her eyes.
The hours crawled by until evening descended, bringing with it a knock that echoed through the cramped hallway. I opened the door to find Cass there, looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine yet carrying a warmth in his smile that photos never captured.
“Hi,” I said, suddenly shy.
“Hello, Mila.” He extended his hand, holding a bottle of wine that probably cost more than my weekly groceries. “I hope this is okay.”
“It’s perfect,” I assured him as I led him into our living room where Chad and Rachel were building a fort out of cushions.
Cass bent down to their level. “This looks like an impressive construction project.”
Chad beamed up at him. “You can help if you want.”
I watched as Cass rolled up his sleeves and dove into playtime with my siblings like it was the most natural thing in the world. This billionaire who could buy any toy they could imagine was here building forts in my living room.
Suddenly, Chad darted out of the room only to return with a deck of cards.
Cass knelt down to Chad’s level, a smile breaking across his face that reached all the way to his eyes. It was a different kind of smile than I’d seen before—not the charming one he used to sway investors or the media, but something genuine and warm.
“Hey champ, what game are we playing?” Cass asked, ruffling Chad’s hair.
Chad beamed, clutching his deck of cards with a gleam in his eye. “It’s called Monster Battle. I’m gonna beat you so bad.”
Cass threw his head back and laughed. “Is that so? Well, let’s shuffle up and see about that.”
