Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 123

Chapter 112: Unexpected Breakthrough

Cameron’s POV

“Lily is my sister,” he said, with the patience of someone clarifying a significant misunderstanding of something that he clearly had needed to explain more than one to people who kept assuming otherwise..

“Lake’s mother left when he was eight months old, she said she couldn’t do it, being a mum and that she gave up, because Lake was not a healthy baby growing up. Lily moved in to help. She’s been here since he was a year old.” He looked at me with an expression that was carefully neutral but contained something underneath it, something that seems he was suspicious about something as he narrowed his eyes at me. “Did you think she was my wife?”

“I-the door, and the child-I assumed-”

“We’ve established your assumptions can be a problem, and should not be used at all” he said, and it was the first thing he’d said in the conversation that had any edge to it, and the edge was small and controlled and entirely deserved. I deserved that, I wasn’t even going to feel angry about that.

Lily was his sister.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “For that assumption, and for-all of it. The termination was wrong. The reason I gave was-it was incomplete.”

He looked at me. “What was the complete reason?”

The question again. He was going to keep asking it with that directness, and every time he asked it I had to decide if telling him the truth was worth it.

His sister was in the kitchen. His four-year-old son was in the kitchen. This was his home, his real life, the part of his life that existed without me in it.

He deserved an honest answer. Not the full one-not today, not like this-but something more honest than what I’d given him last night.

“You’re very good at your job,” I said. “Exceptionally good. Better than anyone I’ve worked with. And I—” I stopped. Tried again.

“I didn’t handle seeing you in that situation well. Lyra Cheng, your office, the-” I looked at my hands. “I didn’t handle it the way I should have and that was wrong. The decision I made was about my reaction, not your conduct.”

He was very still, his eyes searching, his brows doing the thing he always did when he was thinking deeply about something.

“That’s not a complete answer,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“But it’s more than you said last night.”

“Yes.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“The Singapore file is on your desk,” he said finally.

“I know. I read it.”

“The weather buffer-”

“I saw it. It was-” I exhaled. “It was very good work.”

“It’s a simple thing to check.”

“I wouldn’t have checked it before the trip. You checked it before I knew to check it.” I looked at him. “That’s what you do. Consistently. That’s why the decision last night was wrong.”

He looked at me for a long moment with the kind of expression that I had been seeing for over 18 months and he was trying to determine if this was a good idea.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“That’s-yes. Take whatever time-”

“The Meridian call is Wednesday,” he said. “You’ll need someone briefed on the account history before then. If I’m going to come back, it needs to be before Wednesday.”

“It’s Monday,” I said.

“I know when it is.” The not-quite-smile again, small and specific, the shape of something that was returning cautiously from somewhere it had retreated to. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”

“Your number-”

“I’ll call from a different number,” he said. “I’ll let you know which one.”

I stood. Because there was nothing else to do here, nothing else I could properly say, and staying longer than necessary was just me pushing the boundary.

My hands were on the steering wheel and I was not driving yet.

*You look sad,* Lake had said. *Not monster-sad. Just regular sad.*

Four years old and he’d seen it. The specific quality of it, the not-monster variety, the ordinary human kind.

I pulled out my phone. Sent Durian a message: *It’s handled. Mostly.*

Three seconds later: *Mostly?*

*He said he’d think about it.*

*The reinstatement?*

*Yes.*

A pause. Then: *And the other thing?*

I looked at the message for a moment.

*Tomorrow,* I typed.

*Progress,* Durian sent back. *For what it’s worth, Cameron-it was always going to be tomorrow. You were never going to be ready today.*

I put the phone in my pocket.

Started the car. Drove back towards my company.

Tomorrow, I thought.

Tomorrow was available.

I’d been told that enough times recently that I was beginning to believe it.