“I moved to Texas for personal reasons,” I said.
He let out a chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “Ms. Greyson, do you think I’m an idiot? I gave you one month from when I showed up at your apartment door to get my money. Time’s up.”
I turned to stare at Ace’s house and decided I was still too close to have this conversation. I moved away from the front door toward the edge of the front yard.
“I’m working on getting the money, but I told you I would need more time.”
A lot more time, as it turned out.
“A hundred and fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money,” I added.
He made a sound on the other end. “It shouldn’t be for someone in your profession. Don’t you have any money saved?”
I sighed. “I told you when you first brought this up that I spent a significant amount of my income paying off all of my student debt for the past few years. And raising my son.”
He snorted. “Not quite your son.”
“You son of a bitch,” I hissed. “He’s my child, and I won’t let you or anyone else hurt him.”
“We’ll have to see what his biological father has to say about that,” Reyes threw back at me. “Maybe I should give him a call and ask him.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and slowly exhaled.
Yvette, what did you get me into?
Yvette Burgos was Aiden’s birth mother and had turned from a former patient to somewhat of a little sister to me. I met her when I started working as a CNA at the same hospital where I eventually became a PA. She came into the hospital’s clinic for prenatal care.
She was young and had very little money or means to care for herself. I related to her so much that I made it a point to check in on her when I could. That grew into a friendship and me becoming Aiden’s godmother, though she never told me who his biological father was.
I accepted we all had secrets. I never shared with her that I was married. A few months after Aiden’s fourth birthday, Yvette passed out in the middle of a grocery store. Weeks later, after many tests, she was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor.
We cried our eyes out together, and Yvette begged me to take care of Aiden once she was gone.
But the asshole on the other end of the phone didn’t care about any of that. He wanted money, plain and simple.
“I don’t fucking like excuses, and neither does my client,” Reyes continued.
I sniffed. “Your client. How do I even know you’re telling the truth?” I whispered harshly into the phone.
This guy, Vincent, was waiting inside my apartment one morning after I’d dropped Aiden off at school. He said he worked for Marco Flores. As in, Senator Marco Flores from the state of Florida. Vincent was there on behalf of Senator Flores to clean up a little problem he had.
That was how he referred to Aiden. As the Senator’slittle problem.
“You don’t believe my client is that little shit’s father?”
“Watch how you refer to my son,” I seethed.
“It appears Ms. Greyson does have a backbone. Good to know. But do not be mistaken, backbone or not, my client intends to get his answers regarding this child. I’m willing to hold him off for a while, but that is contingent upon you giving me my money.”
I silently fumed. This bastard was playing both sides. Flores hired Vincent Reyes to clean up any dirty laundry of the Senator’s. Flores was popular in his home state of Florida and ran on a campaign of family values. He was eyeing a potential run for President within the next election cycle. It wouldn’t look good for an illegitimate child to become known to the public, in that case.
Not to mention, by my calculations, Yvette had only been seventeen years old when Aiden was conceived.
But Vincent was a double timer. He’d offered to lie to the senator and tell him that Aiden had either died or that he couldn’t locate him—if I were willing to pay.
“I-I could go public about this,” I blurted out.
There was silence on the other end.
