He practically fled, shoulders hunched, dignity left bleeding quietly on the carpet.
Joey watched him go, lips curling slowly into a smirk. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small recording device nestled there, thumb hovering for a second before clicking stop.
Taking Tom down was beginning to be fun.
*****
Anna sat in a quiet coffee house across town. She sat near the window, untouched cappuccino cooling beside her, laptop open, bank statents spread across the screen.
Tom had never allowed her to worry about bills. Ever. He’d handled everything—Don’t stress, darling. I’ve got it covered. At least now she knew why.
He hadn’t been covering anything.
He had been stealing.
Her fingers hovered over the trackpad as she followed the trail backward. Monthly paynts siphoned neatly out of their joint account. A second life funded quietly and efficiently.
Her money.
Her stomach twisted as realization layered upon realization. Since the mont they got married, the account had been fed exclusively by her trust fund. Tom’s so-called business inco? Nowhere to be found. Not a single deposit traceable to him.
She dug deeper, pulse quickening. Another family, living comfortably off her na, her inheritance, her silence.
She buried her face in her hands, elbows resting on the small café table, shoulders shaking despite her efforts to stay composed. God, she had been so stupid. All this ti, she’d trusted him with the numbers, the paperwork, the details, because he’d smiled and kissed her forehead and told her she worried too much.
She had quickly transferred every last cent out of the account into Winn’s account. A temporary holding place until she got a finance manager.
She was mid-spiral when a shadow fell across the table.
"Ma’am?" the barista asked gently. She was young, with kind eyes. "Would you like a bigger table?"
Anna looked up. She realized belatedly that her laptop, phone, papers, and purse had colonized the tiny table.
"No," Anna said quickly, swiping at her cheeks and forcing a breath. "I’m sorry. I’m just waiting for soone. I’ll clear this up."
The barista smiled. "No, it’s okay. If you need more space, we can—"
"Thank you, dear. Thank you," Anna interrupted softly. "I... I’m fine."
The barista nodded, unoffended, still smiling. She’d seen it all—breakups, job losses, whispered phone fights, silent crying into cappuccinos. If a smile was all she had to offer, then a smile it would be. She retreated back behind the counter, leaving Anna to collect herself.
Anna inhaled slowly. She straightened the papers, closed the laptop, wiped her eyes properly this ti.
The bell above the café door chid.
Anna looked up instinctively and saw Tim scanning the room, spotted her imdiately. He walked toward her, eyes never leaving her face.
"Hey, Anna," he said quietly, giving her a small smile as he slid into the chair opposite her.
"Hi..." Anna murmured, dabbing quickly at the corners of her eyes as if speed alone could erase the evidence of her unraveling.
"Are you... Anna?"
"It’s nothing," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "Nothing. I’m just a bit overwheld." A pause, then a breath that scraped on the way out. "I called you because—God, I don’t even know why I called you." She laughed weakly, humorless. "I need to protect my son. Our son."
"It’s funny," he said. "You finally tell he’s my son right when everything is going to shit." He let out a short breath. "Interesting timing."
"What was I supposed to do?" she snapped, pain sharpening her tone. "Call you up—my husband’s brother—and tell you that our one mistake gave a baby? Ruin two families instead of one?"
"A mistake," Tim repeated quietly. He tilted his head, studying her. "That’s what you call it, huh?"
Her throat tightened. "I knew this was a mistake," she said. "I shouldn’t have called you. I shouldn’t have—please. Please leave."
Tim didn’t move.
Instead, he asked calmly, "What do you need?"
"Nothing," she said. "Never mind. Just go."
"Anna," Tim said firmly. "You are not controlling the narrative this ti. Drop the spoiled-princess shtick and tell what you need."
That stung—because it was true.
She didn’t look at him. Instead, she turned back to the account reports spread before her, eyes scanning numbers she already knew by heart. "With Winn coming out on national TV and saying those things about Tom," she said slowly, "I’m afraid Tom will retaliate." Her fingers curled into the paper. "And Winn will respond. And then Tom will escalate again. And it’ll never end."
She finally looked up at Tim, eyes bright with fear and hope. "Would you... would you help stop it?"
"You want to get Tom to back off," Tim said slowly, as if testing the words for weight and consequence. His gaze stayed fixed on Anna’s face.
"Yes," Anna whispered.
"Did you ever ask yourself why I left?"
"Your father had just died," she said quietly. "I thought you needed ti to grieve."
"Tom asked to leave. He wanted gone. Wanted to sign over everything our family had to him."
"Why?"
"Because he threatened ," Tim said simply. "I would never have left you. Never. I knew you’d made the biggest mistake of your life," he continued quietly. "I would have stayed to take care of you if I could."
"So... you can’t help ?" she asked.
"I didn’t say that." His eyes dropped to the docunts scattered across the table. "What’s all this?"
She swallowed hard. "Apparently, I’ve been single-handedly funding my family and Tom’s other family since the mont we got married. I can’t get over how stupid I was."
Tim snorted softly.
"You’re going to be fine. This will all be over soon. Okay?" His hand reached across the table, then closed around hers.
"I’ll get Tom to back off," he added. "But...I doubt that’s really what Winn wants. He wants to piss Tom off."
"Just help protect my child, please."
He nodded slowly, decisively. "Okay," he said. Just that. One word. Solid. Certain.
His hand was still covering hers, and he realized—dimly—that he hadn’t ant to let it linger. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, his thumb brushed lightly against her knuckles.
(Extra Chapter. Courtesy of MissyDionne)
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