Page 64 of The Billionaire and His Forever

“I’m taking control of the narrative,” I tell her.

And then I float out the door.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Graham

The house doesn’t feelright today. It feels empty, sterile, fragmented. I can’t shake the feeling that something is amiss as I walk down the hall to the kitchen to get another espresso.

I’m not sentimental enough to entertain the possibility that it’s the absence of Abbie, because she’s been gone for almost two weeks now, and all for the better. Her presence in my life was beyond disruptive. Hell, it continues to be. I’ve spent far too many hours dwelling on the ways she’s interfered and how she’s turned this house upside down, and I’m still getting my business matters back on track and my work caught up. The only thing Abbie didn’t ruin was my relationship with Jude.

I stop in the middle of the hallway.Jude. That’s what’s not right. I should be hearing her infectious laugh and relentless stream of words bouncing off the walls, but all is silent. She’s been morose ever since I told her that Abbie would no longer be her other mother.

And when I finally, grudgingly took Jude to the hospital to see her real mother, Natasha had barely paid attention to Jude at all. We were there for less than half an hour before Natasha got annoyed with all of Jude’s questions about why Natasha had accused Abbie, and Natasha insisted that she needed her afternoon nap. Jude was crushed.

After sending Jude to the waiting room down the hall, I told my ex-wife what a miserable human being I think she is. She tried to convince me that she really did believe Abbie drugged her, tried to tell me that there was still hope for me and her to rekindle our marriage, but I wasn’t having any of it. It took all my willpower not to throttle her in that hospital bed.

Before I walked out, I left Natasha with an ultimatum—I said that Jude wouldn’t return until she made the effort to call her and invite her to visit. I also said I wouldn’t subject our daughter to her narcissism and manipulations any longer, and that Jude and I would both be waiting for her to decide she was ready to act like a decent mother again.

Jude has been calling her mother every day, but Natasha has yet to invite her back to the hospital for a visit. And Jude hasn’t asked to go again. Yet.

It’s blatantly obvious, now that I think about it.

The house is missing my daughter’s joy.

My brow furrows as anger steals over me anew. Abbie has no idea how much she stole outside of that two million dollars. I storm back to my office, grab a decanter of whiskey, and pour two fingers into a tumbler. I’m about to walk it to my desk when I pause, reconsider, and pour another finger.

“Mr. Ratliff?” Esmeralda calls through the door, rapping gently. “Would you like the paper now? You weren’t at breakfast, so—”

“No,” I call back. I stare out the window, watching the sun hike higher in the sky, wondering, not for the first time, how I could have been so damn foolish. “I’m tired of the news.”

Esmeralda pops her head into my office anyway. “Business section?”

I sigh and take a drink of whiskey. It’s early for it, but my soul needs soothing and this is the only way I know how. My father was a drunk, my father’s father was a drunk, and I’m quite certain the affliction has long nourished the roots of the Ratliff family tree.

“Leave it, then,” I finally concede. “I’ll look it over later.”

“Is there anything else we can do?” she asks as she pulls apart the paper and sets the applicable section down on my desk.

“Act as though nothing has changed.” I look up to meet her eyes and immediately regret it. The pity on her face churns my stomach. “Frankly, I’m concerned about Jude.”

“She was very attached. Her last nanny was very good with her,” Esmeralda muses, careful not to say Abbie’s name. I shoot her a frown. “What? She was. Do you remember how Jude used to be? She changed so much this summer. It’s just too bad about…it all.”

I cock an eyebrow at her, but don’t argue, because Esmeralda is, as usual, correct.

“How can I help her? I appreciate you and Mary taking turns caring for her, more than you know, but soon enough I’ll have to get her back to Manhattan to start third grade, and I’ll be back at the Midtown office. She’ll be so lonely. I’m afraid she’ll never bounce back. Especially with everything going on with her mother…”

“Spend as much time with her as you can,” Esmeralda councils. “She needs extra love right now. I’ll see if I can get Cassie to take her on a trail ride today. Perhaps you could join.”

“I have a full day. Meetings until bedtime.”

Her mouth flattens into a straight line. “How many meetings did you give up for Abbie?”

“Don’t say her name.” I wince and take another drink. “That name is banned from this house, you know that.”

She snorts. “You’re acting Jude’s age. Never mind, that’s an insult to your daughter.”

“With all due respect, go away. Please.”

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