She smiles when she sees me. It doesn't reach her eyes.
“Emma. Thank you for seeing me.” Her voice is warm, cultured. Practiced. “Please, sit.”
I remain standing. “Mrs. Hammond. I wasn't expecting you.”
“I'll get straight to the point. We're both busy women.” She opens her clutch, pulls out a check, slides it across the table. “Enough to pay off your debts, start fresh somewhere else, build whatever life you want.”
I stare at the check. The number printed on it.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
More money than I've ever seen in my life.
“In exchange for what?”
“In exchange for disappearing from my son's life. Quietly. Completely.” She folds her hands on the table. “No dramatic goodbye, no tearful phone calls. You simply... move on.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
“Does this usually work? With the other women?”
Something flickers in her eyes. Annoyance, maybe. That I'm not crying or trembling or reaching for the check.
“Most women in your position understand the value of a graceful exit.”
“I'm not most women.”
“No.” She tilts her head, studies me. “You're stubborn. I can see why Alexander finds that appealing. But stubbornness isn't a substitute for breeding or connections. Or a family name that opens doors.”
“I don't need doors opened for me. I open my own.”
Her smile hardens. “Do you?” She arches an eyebrow. “Let me be clear. I have relationships with every major marketing firm on the East Coast. GVM included. Thomas Hawthorne and I have known each other for twenty years.” She lets that sink in. “Your career, such as it is, exists because I allow it to exist. One phone call, and you'll find yourself unemployable in this city. In any city that matters.”
My job. The thing I've worked so hard for. The stability I've built from nothing after I lost everything.
I think about Kai on his knees this morning. The way he looked at me like I was the only thing in his world worth fighting for.
“You can threaten my career,” I say slowly. “You can make phone calls and close doors and do whatever it is women like you do when you don't get your way.”
I push the check back across the table.
“But I'm not leaving him. Not because you told me to. Not for any amount of money.” My voice steadies as the truth settles into my bones. “I love your son. And I think that terrifies you—because you can't buy it, you can't control it, and you have no idea what to do with something real.”
Her lips thin. Eyes go cold. For a moment I see the woman beneath the silk and diamonds.
“You have no idea what you're getting into,” she says.
“Maybe not.” I stand. “But I know I'd rather face it with him than walk away because his mother wrote me a check.”
I move to the door, hold it open.
Helena rises slowly, gathers her bag and the rejected check. Pauses at the threshold, close enough that I can smell her perfume. Something expensive and suffocating.
“You'll regret this. I’ll not offer again.” she says softly.
“The only thing I'd regret is taking your money.”
She leaves without another word.
