The Contracted Ever After (Cordelia and Ronan) novel Chapter 644

"Why are we heading to Birchwood?" Cordelia asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and annoyance.

"Jayson seems to be dealing with some mental health issues, and Petra asked me to drop by," I explained, eyes on the road as we navigated through the quiet suburbs.

Cordelia let out a huff, a sound that was quickly becoming her signature expression of displeasure. Her eyes, which had widened at the mention of "Birchwood," were now firmly shut again.

"What's with the huff?" I asked, my hand finding its way into the soft tangles of her hair, a gentle attempt to soothe her. "Talk to me."

"It's just that every time Petra snaps her fingers, you jump," she snapped back, bitterness clear in her voice.

I couldn't help but smirk at her jealousy. "Isn't that what you're doing right now?"

She snorted in response but didn't turn to face me. It was obvious she was going to Birchwood with me, no matter what her feelings on the matter were. Besides, she didn't have classes the next day.

The following morning, after Cordelia climbed into the car, we didn't head straight for Birchwood as she expected. Instead, I steered the vehicle towards the heart of Millstone City.

"Dressed up all nice today, huh?" Cordelia eyed me with suspicion. She understood the game men played all too well; before marriage, they were like bees to flowers, but their attention spans were short-lived. Once tired of one, they'd flit to the next. It was only natural she'd be on guard.

We pulled up in front of a quaint villa with a sign that read "Marie's Counseling Services." My car came to a gentle stop.

A woman approached and took a seat in the back.

"You must be Mrs. Evans?" Marie inquired.

"Yes," Cordelia responded curtly, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the beauty who had been kind enough to give me a lift home the day before.

"Oh, Mrs. Evans, you're stunning—more so than a movie star."

While I found the compliment rather pleasing, my response was nonchalant, "Oh, really?"

"How much do you need?" I finally asked, cutting through the theatrics.

"Excuse me?" Petra gasped, taken aback.

"The four hundred thousand you owe me—forget it. I'll give you an additional five million for Jayson's medical expenses," I declared.

It was clear I had no intention of shouldering the lifelong responsibility of Petra's child. If that were the case, she'd cling to me forever.

Petra didn't want the money; she wanted the man. But my offer was on the table, non-negotiable.

It seemed that Cordelia and I were an unbreakable unit.

Each encounter with me left Petra feeling more frustrated and desperate. She was growing increasingly agitated, haunted by the sense that all her efforts were in vain.