Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Barron
“ W hat did we say about you not being an asshole?”
We’re barely out the door when Holly drops the pleasant smile and starts in on me in a sharp tone.
“There was nothing said about me not being an asshole in private.” I smirk, knowing I created the perfect loophole. Being home allows me the freedom to be myself without filters.
I work some breathing room for myself into every deal. She knows this too. Exploiting technicalities is what’s helped me along the way to becoming a billionaire in my own right.
Holly’s steps turn aggressive as we head to the elevator, signaling her rising irritation.
I prepare myself for the confrontation we’re about to have.
“Your mother didn’t say she didn’t have a child, Barron,” she snaps, keeping up with my pace without a problem.
I raise an eyebrow. “I was there,” I remind her, mouthing the words with exaggerated clarity.
Her eyes narrow. “She said Abby was the closest to a daughter she’ll ever have.” She turns on her heel, facing me as we arrive in front of the elevator. “Emphasis on daughter. Female. Girl child.”
Okay, she’s made her damn point. I slowly exhale through my nostrils. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
I didn’t ask for a surrogate sister thrust into my life.
“You made everyone in the room feel awkward, especially Abby.” Yes, the tension ramped up. I can’t deny that.
I mash my thumb on the call button. The elevator doors open at once.
“ Abby could do with feeling uncomfortable.” We step inside the mirrored car. “She’s the one who put my mother in a wheelchair, remember?”
Holly swipes her access card and punches the button. She turns to face me, her eyebrows knit together in consternation. “I thought your mom stepped on something and twisted her ankle.”
“It was Abigail’s backpack.” I scoff at the innocent scenario she painted. “Neither she nor the backpack should have been at the port today.”
“Really.” Holly juts her hip out, sliding back to the annoyed expression she adopted for this conversation. “And what, Abby threw the backpack at her? Or how exactly did you envision this happening?”
I clench my jaw, fed up with her meddling. Mostly because she’s not entirely wrong. From what I heard, my ever-distracted mother stepped on the strap, destabilizing her heel and leading to the fall.
Yes, it could have been because of anyone’s belongings, but it was Abigail’s.
“Abigail came here to look after my mother, and this happened because of her.” If the driver hadn’t reacted so fast, Mother could have ended up sprawled on the pavement.
Holly scrunches her face, doubtful. “Do you think she did it on purpose?”
On purpose? No…but isn’t it enough that the girl shouldn’t even be here? That Mother agreed she would be gone by now? Yet, not two minutes ago, Abigail was settling into the suite with her, as if nothing had changed.
Again, I wonder why she’s still lingering. Is she afraid to be on her own? Or is she worried about what Mother might say when she’s not around? If so, why? Does she think I’ll learn some deep, dark secret that would shatter that schoolgirl image?
To top things off, James is all but drooling over Abigail.
I’ll be taking care of you personally, night and day.
I grit my teeth. The hell he will. The mere thought of his lecherous gaze on her makes my shoulder muscles knot with tension.
“Well?” Holly’s impatient tone pulls me into the present.
What was her question? I got sidetracked on a tangent and lost my train of thought. Damn it, I know better than to get distracted. Especially when Holly’s involved. However, as soon as someone mentions Abigail, I lose focus.
“Do you think she did it on purpose?” Holly repeats slowly, as if speaking to a petulant child. “Was Abby aiming to hurt your mom’s ankle?”
Oh, right. I shove my hand in my pocket and mutter a terse, “No.”
“How about you not stress everyone out.” She turns to study her reflection in the walls she insisted on having in the elevator.
“That wasn’t my intent.”
“You have her here for a visit, then you pull this.” She runs her fingers through her hair in a rush of jangling bracelets. “Make the most of the time you have with your mother.”
I blow out a frustrated breath, her words hitting a nerve. I’ve been so focused on reaching my goal of making my first billion through my own hustle that I neglected my relationship with Mother.
Chasing one business deal after another, once I finished a project, and made money, I moved on to the next without looking back.
Somehow, time got away from me.
Losing her own mother was a wake-up call for Holly about cherishing the moments you have left. For me, it underscored how I’ve let a significant rift form between Mom and myself, one that originally stemmed from my dealings with Abigail.
Regardless of how I attempt to discuss the accounting related to her expenses, Mother refuses to address it.
“I don’t want anyone exploiting my mother,” I shoot back. The words are out before I can consider their implications.
Holly pauses, her hand freezing. She processes what I said before responding. “Is that happening?” Her gaze meets my reflection. “Is Abby taking advantage of her? How?”
Shit. While not an inaccurate statement, explaining its roots would be…complicated, to say the least.
I should have thought that through before opening my mouth. Following that line of questioning will not end well, no matter how I try to defuse it.
While Holly has been involved in my daily life these past few years, I’ve kept certain aspects from her, for her own sake.
Despite her modern sensibilities, or maybe because of them, I could never make her understand or accept that I essentially paid for that girl—no, woman now.
Abigail has grown into a woman while I’ve been pursuing my goals. A transformation I can’t ignore, no matter how I try.
Regardless, the large sum of money I handed over for her to remain under my mother’s roof created a rift between us. Something we haven’t been able to overcome, and the years have dragged out. I hate to admit it, but it seemed like a good idea at the time, given the circumstances.
Mom’s biting remark, you’re just like your father still rings in my ears even years later. She did not mean it as a flattering comparison.
At this point, I had expected for Abigail to be out on her own, finally giving me peace. With her college fully paid, including a dorm, she has no financial reason to stay tethered to Mother’s home. Yet there she is, moved back in and even taking a semester off from school.
“I’ve gotta say, I didn’t see that coming,” Holly murmurs, biting her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I realize it was a quick introduction, but she didn’t hit me as the type, at all.”
Of course she wouldn’t. From what I’ve gathered, Abigail presents as quiet and unobtrusive, a polite wallflower happy to keep a low profile.
I didn’t catch on to the situation myself until I received an annual financial report. It shows a recurring monthly transaction from Mother’s account to Abigail’s.
The doors open with a muted ding. Holly doesn’t move, likely sensing there’s more to the story. However, I’m in no mood to talk about it at the moment. She reaches out, catching my arm as I step forward.
“Barron?” Her eyes search mine for answers I’m not going to provide, despite her imploring expression.
I grimace, knowing it’s my own stupidity that put me in the awkward position. But I won’t say more. I also can’t let it go. I’ve seen too much money change hands there to ignore.
She’s shelled out hundreds of thousands to Abigail in the last couple of years. That’s on top of college tuition and a new car.
For me, the money would be a drop in the bucket. But on my mother’s budget, that amount would undoubtedly impact her livelihood.
Drawing in a steadying breath, I admit, “I’m not sure. But I aim to find out.”
One way or another, I need to figure out whatever emotional or financial game Abigail is running and put a stop to it before she bleeds my mother dry.