Chapter 269

Tom’s mother. At my door. In my penthouse. Now? How the hell did she even get in? Shit.

"I’ll be right there," I muttered, ending the call.

I gulped down the rest of my beer in one swallow and set the bottle on the coffee table. Time to handle this shitstorm.

"Sorry," I told Eleanor as I rose to my feet. "Have to run. Thanks for the beer."

"Thank you for helping me with the bags," she said softly, walking with me to the door.

We exchanged a small nod, then I stepped out to the hallway and started climbing the stairs two at a time. Halfway up, I slowed and saw her, Carrie, standing right there in front of my door.

Fuck. Hell. This woman.

She had to be early forties. Tall. Curvy. Thick in that expensive-rich-lady way where she probably drank champagne for breakfast. Her brown hair was cut short, exposing her sharp cheekbones. She wore sunglasses indoors like she owned the world. And her dress—tight, wine-red, slit all the way up her left thigh—showed cleavage that refused to fully sag despite gravity doing its best. No bra either; her nipples pressed through the fabric, practically outlined.

She looked like a woman who used money as a blunt weapon.

"There is someone in there," she said bitterly, pointing at my door. "I knocked, but the girl on the other side refused to open."

"Carrie, right?" I asked, stepping closer. "What do you want?"

She pulled down her sunglasses just enough to glare at me. "Are you... Evan? The boy who cucked my son?"

"Wow," I said. "Tom tells you everything?"

"He tells me everything. I’m his mommy, after all." She smiled like that was something to brag about. "Now I’m here to bring Kim back home. I’m sure you’ve had your fun with her, but she belongs to my son."

"Kim isn’t an object," I said flatly. "She doesn’t ’belong’ anymore."

"Oh, spare me your feminist bullshit," she snapped.

"That’s just called common sense," I said, stepping until I was right in front of her. "Leave, Carrie. And tell your son to grow up and find someone else."

"I tried," she said with a smug little smile. "But he insists on Kim. For some reason."

"Boo-hoo," I muttered. "Please leave. I don’t know how the hell you got inside the building, but leave."

Her smile dropped. "Evan. Give me back Kim. And we won’t have to go through the bad route."

"I’m not handing anyone to you," I said. "Go home."

She inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring. "Evan. Give. Me. That. Whore."

"Bad language," I said lightly. "I’ll wash your mouth with soap at this rate."

"Is that your final decision, Evan Henrik Marlowe?"

My blood chilled. How the fuck did she know my full name?

"Yes," I said. "What’s next, you going to tell me my mother’s maiden name too?"

"Buqe."

Jesus Christ.

She started walking past me but stopped at my shoulder. Her hand came up, not gentle at all, and she squeezed my shoulder with fingers that could bruise.

"You’ll see me again, Evan Henrik Marlowe."

She whispered it like a threat, then turned and strode to the elevator. She pressed zero with the flick of her manicured finger, and the doors slid shut.

I stared after her, frozen for a moment. What the hell was she? How did she know so much? Tom’s family was rich, sure—but this was something else. Something darker.

I shook off the chill and turned back to my door. I knocked once, and Minne immediately pulled it open. She must’ve been watching everything through the peephole; her face said she’d heard every last word.

"Master..." she whispered as she shut the door behind me. "What are we going to do?"

"Nothing," I said. "She’s all talk. You know how rich people are."

"She was scary..."

"Yeah. She was." I ruffled her hair gently. "You did good not letting her in. Really good job, Minne."

Her shoulders relaxed a little.

Carrie... great. Another name added to my list of rich assholes I now officially hate. And hopefully the last one.

But knowing my luck?

Probably not.

❤︎‬‪‪❤︎❤︎

I sat at my desk in the master bedroom, pushing the last of my salad around the bowl while Kim’s laptop hummed quietly in front of me. Her homepage was still open. I typed ’Carrie Beldenwary’ into the search bar and pressed enter.

Results flooded the screen instantly.

Old charity galas. Fundraisers. Award ceremonies. A dozen pictures of her on red carpets, in gowns that probably cost more than my car. One with the mayor. Another with the chief of some hospital. Her name popped up more than I expected.

"Damn," I muttered as I shoveled in the last bite of lettuce. "Didn’t know Tom’s mother was this rich."

I shut the laptop with a soft click and leaned back. It made sense now—the confidence, the connections, how easily she dug up info on me. Rich didn’t even cover her. She was entrenched.

Before I could think more on it, the front door opened.

"We’re home!" Jasmine called out, her voice bright but exhausted. "Man, I’m tired."

I stood up and left my room.

The girls were stepping inside, arms full of handbags, coats draped over their arms. Jasmine kicked off her shoes first and dropped her handbag next to the shoe rack. Tessa tossed her scarf onto a chair with zero care. Kim carefully hung her coat, smoothing it out like it was glass. Nala locked the door behind them, rolling her shoulders like they were sore from carrying half a mall.

They headed toward the living room, laughing among themselves about something from work.

Jasmine slowed when she passed me. She stopped completely, turning her head with a frown.

"You look down," she said, brow furrowed. "What happened, Evan?"

"Nothing," I said. "Just tired."

"Huh."

She didn’t buy it. None of them ever did. I cleared my throat quickly, changing the subject. "Hey. I’m having dinner at Mendy’s, by the way."

"Oh? Why?" Nala asked from the living room as she stretched and set her handbag on the sofa. "With her friend too? What was her name? Pen... Penelope."

"Yeah," I said, lying without flinching. "Both of them. I’ll go in three hours."

They nodded like it made perfect sense.

But the truth? No chance in hell was I telling them that Mendy might confess to me tonight. They’d eat me alive with questions or—worse—show up. So I lied. I hated lying to them, but this was different. I didn’t have a choice.

Minne stepped out of the kitchen with a stack of plates in her hands, carefully placing them on the dining table one by one. She adjusted each plate like it was part of a ritual, lining them up perfectly straight, then hurried back for the utensils.

"I’m gonna have a quick shower before dinner," Nala said as she slipped off her heels and stretched her neck. "I feel gross."

"Yeah, I need to as well," I replied.

Nala turned her head toward me, smirking as she lifted her brow. "Wanna join me, handsome?"

I didn’t hesitate. "Of course."

I walked up to her and slipped my hand around her waist, pulling her close. The girls in the living room didn’t look surprised at all. Jasmine only snorted through a laugh. Kim shook her head with a soft smile. Tessa raised her hands in surrender.

"There they go again," Jasmine said.

"Like rabbits," Tessa added. "I swear."

Minne, setting down the last fork, glanced over at us shyly. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her maid outfit, her cheeks going pink.

I pressed Nala against the door of the master bedroom and kissed her deeply. She let out a soft breath against my lips, her hands on my chest. When she broke the kiss, she opened her eyes and glanced toward Minne.

"Minne," Nala said with a warm little smile. "Wanna join, honey?"

Minne nodded instantly, almost too quickly, her whole face lighting up in pure happiness.

Nala and I both chuckled.

Minne practically hopped toward us, her steps light, almost bouncing, like she’d been waiting the whole day for that invitation.

Behind us, Tessa let out a dramatic sigh. "Wow. We have a maid who’s running off to fuck her Master while the table isn’t even set. Incredible. Fucking incredible."

Kim nudged her with her elbow. "Shut up. She’s happy."

Jasmine giggled under her breath. "Honestly? Good for her. Like, really. Good for her."

I wrapped one arm around Nala’s waist and the other around Minne’s as they reached me. They pressed into my sides, warm bodies fitting perfectly against me as we walked into the master bedroom together. We crossed the room slowly, their hips brushing mine with every step, and headed straight for the bathroom door. I pushed it open with my shoulder, and we stepped inside.

I kicked the door shut behind us and turned to them.