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 fiance 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.

2: 2

Jerome had, in fact, booked the most expensive rotating restaurant on the top floor.

He slid a velvet jewelry box across to me. Inside lay a diamond necklace worth a small fortune.

Over the soft rise and fall of a violin, he took my hand, his gaze tender.

"Regina, happy third anniversary. Don't take what happened today to heart. Lola is just an ugly scar from my past. You're the future I want to spend the rest of my life with."

I looked at the glittering necklace and was about to speak when his personal phone, sitting at the edge of the table, rang out of nowhere.

An unsaved number flashed on the screen.

Jerome frowned faintly and answered.

The next second, Lola's shrill sobbing spilled into the quiet restaurant.

"Jerome! They've got me locked up at the Nightfall Club. They're going to break my legs! Please, save me"

Jerome shot to his feet so hard he knocked over the wine glass beside him.

Crimson splashed across his custom white shirt, and he didn't even notice, his grip clamped tight around the phone.

He drew a deep breath, and when he turned to me, he forced a vicious, sneering smile to the corner of his mouth.

"Regina, that reckless little bitch Lola crossed the wrong people and got herself held at the club."

"I have to go over there. I want to see this show for myself, see how someone so arrogant ends up on her knees kissing the ground and begging."

He ground out the words as if he really were rushing off to kick her while she was down.

But his stride toward the elevator was a mess, so frantic he forgot the suit jacket draped over his chair, and the fingers gripping his car keys were even trembling faintly.

Going to enjoy the show?

Whoever heard of a man rushing off to gloat over an enemy running as if his own life depended on it?

I stayed where I was and watched him vanish from sight like a gust of wind, never once looking back.

I pulled out a napkin, calmly wiped the wine off the table, then raised a hand to call the waiter over.

"The check."

Once I'd paid, I sat alone by the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

The glass reflected my expressionless face and the untouched French meal on the table.

I took out my phone, opened the company's internal system, and found the posting HR had sent out just yesterday: Regional Director Transfer Chicago Branch.

Without a moment's hesitation, I typed in my own name and pressed submit.

The screen showed: Your transfer application has been submitted and is awaiting head office approval.

I locked the screen, picked up the cold lemon water beside me, and took a sip.

Outside the window lay New York's dazzling, glittering night. Once I'd thought Jerome was my home here.

But now, I had to go find a new place to belong all over again.

3: 3

The transfer approval was still a few days out, and I wasn't about to cause a scandal at this exact moment and wreck my career prospects.

So at the business bid banquet the next day, even when I watched Lola make her grand entrance in a couture gown, I only watched coldly and let it go.

Until she walked straight up to me with a full glass of red wine.

A flick of her wrist.

The dark red liquid landed precisely on the core bid documents in my hand, the ones I'd spent half a month putting together.

The spreading wine destroyed all the data in an instant.

I raised my hand to slap her.

But before my hand could touch her face, Jerome strode over, clamped down on my wrist, and pulled Lola behind him in the same motion, shielding her completely.

"Lola, what the hell is wrong with you this time!"

Jerome glared at the woman behind him, his eyes vicious, his words brutal.

"Wasn't the beating you took at the club yesterday enough? Coming to a place like this to throw a fit. You think putting on couture washes off that cheap stink of a woman who spreads her legs for money? Get out!"

His words turned her eyes red, but she didn't back down, jutting her chin out and smiling with pure provocation.

"So I'm cheap! But back when you were holding me in that low-rent apartment, didn't you say this was exactly the way you liked me? If you've got the nerve, beat me to death right here in front of everyone. Jerome, do you dare!"

The two of them stood on either side of me, their eyes locked hard on each other.

That tension, like no one else existed, drew stares from the socialites all around.

Just as I was about to shake off Jerome's grip and get justice for myself, Jerome suddenly lowered his voice and ordered Lola,

"Apologize to her."

I froze for a second.

Lola froze too, staring at Jerome in disbelief.

"You want me to apologize to her?"

"I told you to apologize. Didn't you hear me?"

Jerome's face was cold, his voice carrying authority, as if in that moment he was giving me all the face he could.

Lola clenched her teeth and stared at Jerome for a long moment, then finally gave me a perfunctory twist of her lips, her tone flippant.

"Fine. Miss Fox, so sorry. My hand slipped. You're big enough to let it go."

Apology delivered, Lola turned and walked off.

I looked at Jerome coldly.

"This is how you're handling it?"

He turned to face me, his brow knotted tight.

"She already apologized. What more do you want? Regina, think of the bigger picture. It's just one document. Redo it when you get back. Do you really have to blow this up in front of everyone here?"

He even reached out and patted my shoulder in comfort.

"Be good. Don't stoop to a lunatic's level. Making her apologize is already the biggest lesson I could give her."

Watching how entitled he looked, all I felt was disgust.

He kept telling me to "think of the bigger picture," but what he was really doing was using one cheap apology to force my head down and shield Lola from every bit of trouble.

He was afraid I'd actually call the police, afraid I'd actually make a scene here and ruin Lola's reputation.

The two of them were having the time of their lives in their sea of love and hate, and the all-nighters I'd pulled, the sweat I'd poured in, meant nothing at all in his eyes.

"You're right."

I pulled up a smile with no warmth in it and tossed the wad of ruined paper into the trash can beside me.

"No point stooping to a lunatic's level."

When the banquet ended, Jerome's car stopped in front of me. He rolled down the window and, expression unchanged, gestured for me to get in.

I didn't move.

"I've got things to do. Go on without me."

I stepped past him and walked straight for the exit.

The cold wind hit, and the phone in my pocket buzzed.

It was a text from HR.

Regina, your transfer application has been approved. Please complete your handover by this Friday and report to the Chicago branch first thing Monday.

I looked at the notification on the screen and let out one long, heavy breath.

4: 4

Friday afternoon, I finished handing off all my work.

Thirty hours left before my flight to Chicago.

I went back to Jerome's villa and started packing my few personal things into the small suitcase.

Jerome had been buried in an acquisition all week, out before dawn and back after dark.

Last night he'd texted that once this stretch was over, he'd take me to pick out a wedding dress.

I'd replied with a single word: "Sure."

I was folding the last coat when a screech of tires cut through the quiet downstairs.

I stepped out onto the second-floor landing and looked down.

Jerome shoved the door open, seething. Right behind him came Lola, and a young woman I didn't recognize.

"Jerome, spell it out for me! What gives you the right to cancel every one of my credit cards?"

Lola's eyes were red as she screamed it.

Jerome slammed the car keys down on the coffee table, turned around, his eyes ice-cold.

"Lola, I canceled them because you disgust me. When you were taking my money to keep those pretty boys, did you ever feel disgusted with yourself?"

"Let me be clear. This is what you get for throwing me away for money back then. Even if you got down on your knees and begged me now, I'd only see a whore selling smiles."

He hurled the words, hysterical, every one of them a sharpened blade aimed straight at the softest, rawest part of her.

Lola was shaking under it, tears pooling in her eyes, but she bit down hard on her lip and refused to break.

"Jerome, that's enough!"

The young woman beside her finally couldn't take it. She pulled Lola behind her, jabbed a finger at Jerome's face, and let loose.

"You think you're the wronged one here? You think Lola left you back then because she loved money more than she loved you?"

"Your mother was in the ICU, dying, burning through more than twenty thousand a day. Who got down on her knees in front of a loan shark to borrow at their rates? Lola did! She made up a reason and broke it off with you on purpose, to pay off your debt, to keep from dragging you down!"

"You think this high and mighty life of yours came from nowhere? Lola bought it for you!"

A dead silence dropped over the whole living room.

Jerome went rigid where he stood, staring at Lola, his chest heaving, the color draining out of his face in an instant.

"You... what did you say?"

His voice shook and he couldn't stop it.

Lola's tears finally broke loose. She shoved her friend aside and screamed at Jerome, coming apart.

"Stop it! Why are you telling him any of this? He's powerful now, he's got money, he's got that dazzling fiance of his. What am I to him?"

Watching her cry, the mask and the hatred in Jerome's eyes crumbled in a heartbeat.

He panicked.

But that pitiful pride of his was still working on him. Eyes red, he ground the words out low through his teeth.

"What good is saying any of this now? You think you're so noble? Back then you left without a word, and now you crawl back shameless, asking for money. Even if you did it for me, you brought it on yourself! And besides... besides, I have Regina now!"

What a ridiculous thing to say.

I stood in the shadow of the second floor, watching this farce of a tragic romance play out, and couldn't help rolling my eyes.

I didn't want to watch any more.

I turned, went into the room, and dragged out the black suitcase.

The wheels rolled over the wood floor, the sound unnaturally clear in the dead-quiet villa.

The three of them downstairs jerked their heads up toward the stairs at once.

I was wearing the plainest trench coat, the case in one hand, and I walked down expressionless.

The moment Jerome's eyes landed on the suitcase, the panic on his face turned to shock. He took a step forward without thinking, his voice trembling.

"Regina, where are you going?"

I stopped on the last stair, my gaze sweeping over Lola's tear-streaked face before it settled on Jerome's stunned one.

I tugged the corner of my mouth into something like a smile and slid the six-carat engagement diamond off my finger.

"Jerome, now that the truth's out, this grand tragic love story of yours can finally have its happy ending."

I loosened my grip.

The brilliant ring dropped onto the marble floor.

"The role of the leading lady is yours. I'm stepping aside."