Chapter 8
“A minor issue?” Effie let out a soft, mirthless laugh, her eyes laced with sarcasm. “Mitchell, you really think this is nothing? Or do you think I’m just someone you can brush off whenever you please?”
Mitchell’s brow furrowed, his tone turning cold and clipped. “Effie, don’t push your luck. I’ll let this go-just this once. Don’t let it happen again.”
Effie rose from her seat, meeting his gaze with calm determination. “Mitchell, I’m dead serious.”
The tension between them thickened in an instant; it was as if the air itself could catch fire.
Mitchell’s fists clenched at his sides, but after a moment, he let out a bitter chuckle and strode toward the door.
“Effie, I hope you think this through.”
He tossed the words over his shoulder and left the office without looking back.
The door slammed shut behind him. Effie stood silently for a moment, drawing a deep breath, forcing herself to steady the turmoil inside.
Then, without missing a beat, she turned her attention to her work. Soon she’d hand everything over, sell her shares, and finally cut the toxic ties for good.
Etheridge Manor
A limited-edition Maybach glided up the old cobblestone drive, its sleek, modern lines a stark contrast to the stately brickwork of the historic estate. The car came to a smooth stop in the center of the courtyard.
The door opened. A pair of polished leather shoes hit the ground, and Lyman, with his impossibly long legs, strode into the foyer.
Inside, Lindy Etheridge was watching TV. At the sound of footsteps, she looked up, her face lighting up as she called out in her usual exuberant tone.
“Well, look who finally decided to come home! So, did you finish looking through all those photos I sent you?”
66
Lyman crossed the room, his sharp features softening just a little with resignation. “Mom, that’s actually what I wanted to ask you about. Why were there pictures of men in that matchmaking album?”
Lindy rolled her eyes, sounding exasperated. “What, I was just giving you more options! Who knows, maybe you’d prefer a nice young man. I don’t care who you bring home-man, woman, cat, or dog-just give me a daughter-in-law already.”
Lyman’s lips twitched, torn between amusement and frustration. “Mom, I assure you, I’m perfectly straight. Can you please stop with all this matchmaking? Am I really such a lost cause?”
Lindy waved a dismissive hand, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, don’t be so uptight! It’s the twenty-first century-boy, girl, it’s all the same. Love is love, you know.”
Lyman pinched the bridge of his nose and tugged at his navy-blue tie. “Mom, you don’t have to worry. I’ve already found someone for you to meet your future daughter-in-law.”
Lindy shot him a look of pure disbelief. “Yeah, sure. If you’re so confident, why don’t you bring her home then?”
“In three days.”
“Excuse me?” Lindy blinked, thinking she must’ve misheard. “You’re serious?” “Absolutely,” Lyman said, nodding before heading upstairs.
A split second later, Lindy shot up from the couch, shouting up the stairs in a panic, “Lyman! This is huge! My son’s actually found himself a girlfriend!”
Lyman just paused, rubbing at his forehead, exasperated.
Meanwhile, Effie returned home from the office and had dinner with her grandmother. Now, she was packing her suitcase, still racking her brain for the right way to break the news-how was she supposed to tell her grandmother she was getting married to someone entirely new?
What a headache.
Just then, her phone buzzed with a text message…