Does he know what happiness is? My heart hurts for him. “You have to let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Promise,” I insist, because he can be so…brotherlike and refuse to depend on his baby sister.
A beat. “I promise.” A sigh. “It’s late here. I’m going to turn in.”
“Is Minho with you?” I ask. The child hasn’t done anything wrong, but the sight of him could be like salt on Eugene’s wound.
“No. He’s where he belongs—with his mother.”
Which is for the best. “Okay. Sweet dreams.”
“Have a good day. And just because Mom unfroze your accounts doesn’t mean you won the bet.”
Normally, my competitiveness would come through, but I tamp it down. Eugene can have his victory, no matter how small and inconsequential it might be. “I don’t care who wins the bet as long as I get what I want.”
He laughs softly, then hangs up.
I squeeze the phone so hard that my hand starts to shake. Fucking Sera. I’m going to wait until the divorce is final, then make her pay. She deserves to go to hell for what she’s putting Eugene through.
I’m starting to leave the booth when a couple of women rush into the locker room. They’re both talking loudly.
One of them sounds familiar. I pause, wondering where I might’ve heard the voice. Somehow it triggers a feeling of contempt.
I peek out. Ella. And somebody in her late fifties or early sixties I don’t recognize. But from the shape of her nose and the set of her eyes, I presume she’s related. They have the same beak and calculating look. And those Armani dresses are from a collection that came out two years ago.
Ella slams her locker door shut with more force than is necessary. Sure, take your bad mood out on somebody else’s property. Selfish bitch. I’m sick of selfish, thoughtless people. I pull out my phone and start to make a video recording until I realize I shouldn’t be doing that while she’s changing.
Fine. I’ll point the camera at the floor. I’ll only direct it at her if she does something as bad as throwing away a puppy.
“Isn’t it crazy how Declan won’t pay for the wedding?” Ella whines. “I even went over to his place to ask nice.”
When? Before or after you tried to tackle him while frothing at the mouth?
“He’s still angry about that damn dog,” the other woman says. “Ridiculous. I called him to try to change his mind, but he’s being stubborn.”
“I can’t believe he’s betraying your kindness like that,” Ella says. “He’d have to make his living sucking dicks if it weren’t for you.”
My jaw slackens as outrage pours through me. How dare she!
“Well, he probably would’ve still made good money. He has a nice face.”
Ella giggles. “Mom, that’s hilarious.”
Like mother, like daughter. You can always look at the parents for the way kids turn out. The only exception being the Blackwood brothers, but that’s only because they’re too good to be corrupted by their evil mother.
Ella’s mother here seems almost as vile as Tony’s.
“Don’t approach him. He has this weird hang-up about dogs,” the mother says. “I’ll reach out again and see what I can squeeze out of him.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best!” Ella hugs her, arms wrapping around her mother like a dead cockroach’s legs.
Gross.
I’ve heard enough. I stop the recording app and come out of the private booth. They’re too wrapped up in themselves—literally—to notice me. But then, that’s how narcissistic sociopaths behave, so I’m not surprised.
“If you want a dream wedding, you should pay for it yourself instead of asking a half-brother you think would’ve made a good hooker.” My voice is cold. “You didn’t do a thing to help him become what he is.”