Too Late, Mr. Matthews

1: 1

The year Jerome Matthews was at his poorest, Lola Henson dumped him and ran off with another man.

After he made his name, he told anyone who'd listen that Lola was a gold-digger, vain to the core.

But I was the only one who knew: every single time Lola came to Jerome for money, no matter how ugly the things he said to her, in the end he always transferred it over like a good little boy.

That day, Lola came to the office to ask Jerome for money again.

I couldn't stand it. I stepped in front of Jerome and said to her,

"Miss Henson, have some self-respect. Stop coming here to disturb our life."

But I never imagined that the next second, Jerome would shove me away, hard.

His eyes went red as he shouted at me,

"Who gave you the right to talk to her like that? My business is none of yours to interfere in!"

Watching him rush to steady that smug woman, I suddenly saw everything clearly.

Jerome, you don't hate her for being a gold-digger. You're afraid that if she stops even wanting your money, she'll really leave you for good.

Since you love playing the sucker this much, then I won't stay and act out this miserable little drama with you.

......

My lower back slammed into the sharp corner of the rosewood desk.

Piercing pain spread through my whole body in an instant, but Jerome didn't spare me so much as a glance from the corner of his eye.

His gaze stayed fixed on Lola without wavering, and he sneered through gritted teeth,

"Back when you dumped me for money, weren't you so high and mighty? What now? That man doesn't want you anymore, so you come crawling to me like a dog?"

"Lola, you're so cheap it makes me sick."

Every word cut to the bone, meant to humiliate her completely.

But Lola wasn't the least bit afraid of the look on his face, the one that could have swallowed her whole. Instead she gave a cold laugh and shot back without a shred of guilt,

"Quit playing the big man here! Back when I lived in that basement with you and choked down scraps, why didn't you say a word then? Now that you've made it big, so what if I collect a little compensation for my wasted youth?"

"Let me tell you, Jerome, if I don't see that money today, I'll come make a scene every single day! I'll let that shiny, gorgeous fiancée of yours get a good look at what kind of trash you really are underneath!"

The air was drawn tight as a bowstring, as if the next second the two of them would tear each other to pieces.

But right in the middle of that suffocating standoff, Jerome pulled out his phone.

Through gritted teeth he spat, "Bloodsucking piece of trash," even as his fingers moved smoothly across the screen.

Lola's phone chimed with an alert.

Payment received, five hundred thousand dollars.

I leaned against the corner of the desk, watching this absurd scene, and felt the blood go cold from my head all the way down to my feet.

The moment she had the money, Lola's whole face changed.

She tucked her loose hair behind her ear, walked over to me on her heels, and curved her lips.

"Miss Fox, I'm so sorry. Did I scare you just now? But what can I do. He's the one who owes me."

With that, she swayed her hips and left the office, thoroughly satisfied.

Only when the crisp sound of her heels had faded completely down the hallway did Jerome seem to come back to himself.

He turned his head and finally noticed that I was still sitting on the floor where I'd fallen.

He hurried over and reached for my hand, a faint guilt in his voice.

"Regina Fox, are you okay? I didn't mean to push you just now."

"You know how she is. Lola's a lunatic with no limits when it comes to money. I pushed you away because I was afraid she'd lose her temper and hurt you."

As he spoke, he tried to pull me into his arms, softening his voice.

"I feel nothing for her but hatred. I never want to see her come around for the rest of my life. I threw some money at her just to make her go away, to buy some peace. Don't read too much into it, all right?"

I looked at him.

Looked at the eyes that kept dodging mine as he scrambled to patch things over.

Afraid she'd hurt me?

But just now Lola hadn't so much as touched the hem of my dress. It was him. He'd shoved me so hard he'd nearly snapped my back.

He kept saying he didn't want to be pestered, that he hated her to his very bones, yet just now, when he made that transfer, there wasn't a flicker of hesitation.

It was nothing more than one willing to strike and one willing to take it, the two of them bound together by money and mutual humiliation in a knot neither would cut.

Calmly, I brushed his hand aside and pushed myself up using the desk for support.

"Mm. I understand."

Seeing that my tone was as normal as ever, that I wasn't throwing a fit, Jerome visibly let out a long breath of relief.

He straightened the crumpled hem of my skirt and gave a smile, unburdened.

"I'm glad you understand. Tonight I'll take you out for that French food you love."

Watching his back as he turned to grab his suit jacket, I lowered my eyes.

People always say a man's money is where his love is.

I supposed he probably didn't love me anymore.