Chapter 4
I did not let him in.
Not right away.
A billionaire standing in a hallway does not become humble just because his coat is wet.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“To apologize properly.”
“You did. Goodbye.”
I started closing the door.
He placed one hand against the frame.
Not forcing.
Asking.
“I was wrong.”
That stopped me.
Rich men usually said misunderstandings.
Miscommunications.
Policy.
Not wrong.
Mateo whispered, “Is that Julian Cross?”
I ignored him.
Julian looked at my brother.
“May I come in?”
“No,” I said.
Mateo said, “Yes.”
I glared at him.
He mouthed, He is a billionaire.
I mouthed, I know.
Julian stepped inside and looked too large for our small kitchen.
Dad’s pill organizer sat on the counter.
Bills were stacked under a chipped mug.
The ceiling dripped.
I hated that he saw all of it.
He placed an envelope on the table.
I did not touch it.
“What is that?”
“Your severance.”
“I quit.”
“Then call it restitution.”
“No.”
“Abby.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“You need help.”
“I need work. There is a difference.”
Mateo made a helpless sound.
Julian looked at him.
“Tuition?”
My brother stiffened.
“Don’t.”
Julian turned back to me.
“I can pay the bills directly.”
“You can also leave.”
He studied me.
“You would rather suffer than accept help from someone who insulted you.”
“Yes.”
For the first time, he almost smiled.
“That is deeply inconvenient.”
“Good.”
He picked up the envelope and put it back inside his coat.
“Then work for me.”
“I did. You tested me with cash like I was a rat.”
“Not as a cleaner.”
“As what?”
“Personal integrity auditor.”
I stared.
May you like
Mateo whispered, “That sounds made up.”
“It is,” Julian said. “But I need one.”
