My step stuttered, and my stomach soured. I resumed my motions of getting the mugs, pouring coffee. The hairs on the back of my nape stood on end, anticipating bad news. I didn’t know why I expected that, maybe because I was waiting for more blows.
“Me?”
She nodded as I pushed her coffee toward her. “Not just to enjoy your company, even though I do.” She winked. “But to deliver two things. First being the joyful piece of news that your ex-husband had a terrible accident. He fell onto a shiv in jail. Very sad.” She stoically sipped her coffee.
Mine froze halfway to my mouth. “What? How do you know that?”
She flashed her teeth. “I make it my business to know everything about the piece of shit who almost tore apart my family.” Soft menace threaded through her tone.
Calliope was a force to be reckoned with. And she had a complicated, dark past. That I knew.
She had something to do with it. I wouldn’t ask her to confirm, the glint in her eyes telling me she did. Though I considered myself a mostly good person, I was glad. A weight was lifted off my shoulders. And more importantly, off Clara’s.
His trial had been rapidly approaching. I was dreading testifying. Calliope had gotten the most expensive lawyers money could buy to ensure that Clara wouldn’t have to. But the trial itself was a dark cloud that had me waking in the night in a cold sweat.
Waylon deserved death. For what he did to me. To Clara. If that made me a bad person, I guessed I was okay with that.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For telling you?” She arched a sculpted brow slyly. “You’re welcome. It was selfish news to deliver, since anyone who hurts my family meeting an early grave is music to my ears.” She puther coffee cup down, reaching into the purse poised beside her on the chair.
The purse I assumed cost more than my car.
She withdrew an envelope, sliding it across the breakfast bar. “I hear you’re going to med school to become an oncologist.”
My cheeks flushed. “I mean, I just started the process. I may not get in or be eligible for any scholarships?—”
“You’ll get in.” Calliope spoke with a faith in me I didn’t feel for myself. She was confident. In me. And I knew it was genuine, as Calliope didn’t offer empty platitudes. It did bolster my confidence, though. Having a successful woman believe in me. Beau believed in me. But he loved me. He was deluded enough to believe I could fly if I told him I wanted to.
“As for the scholarship.” She waved to the envelope. “You won’t be needing one.”
I stared down at it, not opening it. I didn’t need to open it to figure out what it was.
Embarrassment washed over me.
“I don’t take charity.” I lifted my chin and met her gaze even though I was quaking in my flip-flops.
Calliope Derrick was glamorous, rich, powerful, and fucking scary. I would not win in a stare-off with her.
She considered me with a tilt to her head, an upturn to her red lips. “I don’t give to charity. Unless it’s for tax reasons.”
I doubted that. I knew Calliope was a good, generous person. She wore a hard exterior, for whatever reason—to protect herself, I guessed. I would’ve crafted that kind of skin for myself too if I had been able.
“It’s an investment,” she continued. “You’re an investment. I’ll find a way to recoup.” She pushed the envelope closer.
I stared at it, seeing the years of struggle and debt melting off by opening the small package. My fingers even twitched. But my pride wouldn’t let me.
“I’ve worked with powerful people.” She grinned at me, noting my stubbornness. “Billionaires, CEOs.” She waved her hand. “And do you know that none of those people got there on their own, without someone else making a bet, an investment on them? They’d never admit it, of course. Everyone likes to pretend to be self-made.” She chuckled. “But we all need a little help.”
“Even you?” I challenged. I found it impossible to believe Calliope Derrick needed help from anyone.
“Even me, sweetheart. I did most of the legwork myself, which is why I have such a nice ass.” She smirked. “But I had some helping hands.” Her gaze seemed far away, wistful, and almost sad before she blinked and looked at me. “I’m guessing you’re not used to good things happening. People wanting to help. Though I may not have a whole bunch of goodness in my heart, this is coming out of that piece.” She drummed her nails on the envelope. “And like I said, I’m sure I’ll cash in my investment, one way or another. It always pays to know a doctor. Especially a world-class one.”
My mind raced as I considered taking the check. Calliope wouldn’t offer this lightly. This was truly a helping hand.
“I’m not a doctor yet. Not even close. How do you know I’ll even make it?”
She smiled. “Because I know these things. See women who will never give up. I have an eye.” She tapped the side of her temple. “And I’m looking at a young woman who is going to be brilliant. Now take the fucking check.”
