When Love Becomes a Cage (Melanie) novel Chapter 8

I retorted, "Your skin is thicker than an old leather jacket. You jetted off with your mistress on holiday and ditched work I wouldn't dare pull that stunt."

When those words left Clyde's mouth, I knew what was unfolding. It looked like the client finally caught up to him. If my memory served me right, the project plans were set in stone ages ago. Their reaching out to me likely meant they wanted some revisions.

I was on top of this project a few months back, but life hit me like a freight train, and my work was the last thing on my mind.

I couldn't recall if it was Kayla hanging on Clyde's arm back then, but someone was, and clearly, he couldn't care less about me. He handed my responsibilities over to someone else and even had the nerve to dock my pay. I used to get a paycheck, but I'd got zilch.

He probably thought I was dead broke, desperate enough to come crawling back. But he was dead wrong. I wouldn’t back down, especially when I was in the right.

When we were dating, he could never win an argument with me. Then, weakened by illness but with a mind sharper than ever, he'd got no chance.

I fought back. "Oh, so only pop up when there's a problem, huh? Around when there's work, disappear when there's nothing to do?"

"A man of your caliber failing at a single project, Mr. Patterson? Needing to summon your wife to clean up your mess?"

"Or can't you live without me, huh? Spare me the disgust."

I've been feeling better these days, and with some cash to fund my treatments, I'm standing on firmer ground, especially after I checked last night. It wouldn't be against the law even if I broke into his safe and took every last dime. We never signed a prenup, so technically, half of his wealth was mine.

At worst, I'd be accused of damaging my property, and the cops couldn't care less.

What would be the better option, dying from this disease or putting up with his lectures? I guessed the latter would be better. At least that way, I wouldn’t die.

I felt emboldened, and my voice grew louder. Clyde didn't expect me to stand up to him like that after biting my tongue for three years, leaving him at a loss for words.

I was about to hang up, done arguing, when he sneered. "Classic Melanie, finally revealing your true colors, huh? Thought you could keep up the act? Claiming you're in the hospital, playing the sympathy card? You're truly something."

"Clyde, I’m in the hospital now." I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. He wouldn't believe me.

And sure enough, his laughter grew louder. "Stop the drama, will you? I checked with the doctor. A single stitch, and you get hospitalized? Think that'll make me worry? Dream on!"

I closed my eyes, pain clutching at my chest.

A scratch on Kayla, Clyde rushed her to the doctor, but my stitch was nothing to him.

Why didn't he ask why I was at the doctor's office in the first place? Why didn't he inquire about my visit to the oncology department? Why didn't he wonder why the police, not me, called him?