His Mother Offered Me Millions to Leave Him

The check slid across the table with the same casual precision Victoria used for everything else in her life. Five million dollars, written in ink so black it looked like it might bleed into the ivory paper. The Manhattan penthouse stretched around us, all glass and steel and the kind of silence that costs money to maintain. I watched the check come to rest against the white tablecloth and felt something sharp and familiar unfurl in my chest.

"Five million," Victoria said, her voice carrying the crisp authority of old money. "Disappear from my son's life, Ms. Reed. Consider it a fair price for the inconvenience."

She didn't touch her water glass. Didn't fidget. Just sat there like she was conducting a board meeting, which I supposed she was. The Bishop family board meeting on how to remove the gold-digging trash. I picked up the check, studied it for exactly one beat, and tore it cleanly in half.

"Your son's happiness is worth at least one hundred million," I said, letting the pieces flutter back onto the table. "If you want to negotiate, bring a serious number."

For the first time since I'd met her, Victoria's composure cracked. Just a hairline fracture. Her right hand moved to her left, fingers straightening each ring with deliberate care. One diamond, two sapphires, a platinum band. I cataloged the tell like I cataloged everything else — ammunition for later.

"You misunderstand," she said, but her voice carried an edge now. "This isn't a negotiation."

"Everything's a negotiation, Victoria. Even sitting in your overpriced penthouse drinking coffee that costs more than most people's daily salary." I stood, smoothing my skirt with the same theatrical flourish I used for everything. "You just haven't made a real offer yet."

I walked out without touching my coffee. Let her sit there with it, I thought. Let her wonder if I'd poisoned it with my presence. The elevator doors closed on her straightening her rings again, and I smiled to myself. Round one.

Back at the penthouse, I found Kaisen in the living room, silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows that made Manhattan look like a jewelry box spread out below us. He turned when he heard me, and I launched into my performance before he could speak.

"You will not believe what your mother tried to do," I announced, kicking off my heels with a theatrical flourish. "She actually thought five million would make me disappear. Five million! Can you imagine? I'm worth at least ten times that."

Kaisen's expression remained perfectly still, but his eyes tracked my every movement as I paced the room, playing the part I'd perfected. The shameless gold-digger. The woman who loved his money more than him. The role that kept everyone — including myself, sometimes — from looking too closely at what else might be there.

"What did you do?" His voice was low, even.

"I told her I'd consider one hundred million." I laughed, the sound bright and sharp as breaking