Billionaire's Inheritance Bride(2)
There was silence at the other end. "The-the reason I really called was to let you know I will be contesting the terms of the custody. I want my daughter back."
A bolt of lightning skewered Miranda's brain. "You what?" She screeched, as the chance for a peace treaty jumped out the window.
"I spoke to a judge friend of mine. He said after I remarried and showed evidence that my home is more stable than the one you can provide for Sadie, then the court can decide to overrule in my favor."
"You fucking sonofabitch. You think you can take my daughter because you plan to play house with your new wife? She's not a toy you can play with till you get bored."
"But you've had her for the past two years." The whine sent bile up her throat.
"You had her from the day she was born until we divorced. You never showed enough interest for her welfare." Miranda replied with derision. "Besides, why can't you just start your own family without taking my daughter away from me?"
Awkward silence.
Then James confessed, "I've just been to see a doctor. My, err- swimmers, are not so good. I may not have children again."
The confession was startling, but Miranda hardly felt any sympathy. "Just because you're impotent is no reason for me to give up my daughter."
"I'm not impotent. I just can't have children." James snarled back.
"Same difference," Miranda mocked, "You still can't have her."
"I can always try." James sneered. The threat was obvious.
"You can try all you want, you piece of shit, but I'll see you in hell first." Miranda screamed before terminating the call.
She was fuming with rage and knew a breakdown was headed her way. Two double whammies in one day was more than anyone could take. She headed down the hallway looking for a dark hole to crawl into and cry. She spotted a utility closet and entered; it was dark and concealed – what she needed for a good bawl.
Miranda had no idea how long she wept in the dark; the office was empty when she emerged. She went to retrieve her purse. She reached to turn off her computer when an idea struck her.
It was a long shot, but if she could make her supervisor Ann Mason understand her situation, then maybe … just maybe, Ann would sympathize and ask the main office to remove her name from the list. The thought gave her hope, and she needed something to cling on to.
Driven with desire to keep her job, and knowing she needed it to keep her daughter, Miranda poured her heart out in an email. She detailed the conversation with John and the threat he made about getting Sadie. She begged Ann Mason to plead her case at HQ and help save her job.
Miranda glanced at her watch and realized it was late. Mrs. Tanner would be wondering where she was. She ended her email with another plea before scrolling through the company contact list until she found Mrs. Mason's email address.
She uttered a small prayer, then pressed the "send" button.
***
Ace Masterson glared at his grandfather with furious blue eyes. He knew the old man was being an arrogant, stubborn, asshole.
"Are you even aware of what will happen if you die before you can sign control of the company to me?"
"Yes I do." The old man replied, serenely. "The trustees will take over. Sell everything and donate it to my favorite charity."
"How can you even think of that option when you know how much I've put into Masterson conglomerate?" Ace asked, infuriated.
The old man straightened his back against the wheelchair. Rheumy eyes failed to conceal the authority he welded. His voice was firm when he answered: "I am aware. You enjoy the fruits of your hard work. Consider your homes all over the world, numerous cars in the garage, a private jet and a yacht in the marina. You have all that because you work hard."
Ace ran a hand through his hair. The old man was right. He had everything except the deed showing he owned the company.
The old man continued, "I can sign everything over to you … but you know what I want."
Ace sighed in defeat. "I'm not ready to settle down and start a family. Besides, it's your fault. You disapprove of everyone I introduce to you."
"Bah! Socialites, starlets, models, actresses?" The old man enumerated with disdain. "A pretty face and a wet pussy are not all that a woman is made of. You should know by now, the dumber they are, the more expensive their taste. Those hussies will go through your pocket and leave you with just the shirt on your back."
"Oh grandpa, you're full of shit," Ace chuckled, then added, "Exactly what is it that we are looking for in a girl?" He added emphasis on the ‘we'.
"A girl who can think for herself, and not those airheads you've introduced me to. Someone who will love you for who you are and not the number of zeroes in your bank account."
The veracity in the old man's words stung. His former girlfriends had expensive tastes. Vacations in the Maldives, jewelry, couture clothes, and cars - he always picked up the tab.
With the tension between them gone, old man Masterson beckoned his grandson near. "Ace, listen to me. I love you. You are my only heir. With your parents gone, I saw you grow up to become who you are today. A family will only make you stronger. I started Masterson's conglomerate from nothing. It's my legacy to you. Protect that legacy and pass it on to your children."
Ace drew an audible sigh and replied, "I know grandpa. I love you too. I have a meeting at the office," he added, before giving the old man a peck on the forehead.
Ace prepared to leave when the old man called out, "Better hurry with the search for the perfect wife. I may die tomorrow."
"Sure! You'll probably outlive us all, you wily bastard." Ace replied, as the old man cackled with laughter.
The rest of Ace Masterson's day was full. He managed a meeting with his top executives, a lunch with a prince from Saudi Arabia interested in buying his aviation company in Jeddah, another meeting with a senator, and closed a deal for a tract of land in India.
He returned to the main office ready to call it a day. A couple of checks needed his signature and Sienna's note explained it was for the laid off personnel in a downtown office. He grabbed a decanter from a nearby console and poured himself a shot of brandy before signing the checks. All were payable to unfamiliar names. He recalled a memo about cutting the secretarial pool.
"This must be it," he contemplated.
"I wonder if it's too late for a booty call." Ava, a girl he met in a bar said to call anytime he felt lonely.
"Shit, I'm not even in the mood."
He powered on his Mac, deciding to check his emails. He had over 20 unread messages in his inbox. He scrolled through the names deciding there was nothing urgent that he couldn't deal with tomorrow. He scrolled to the last email and saw it was from a Miranda Benson.
He didn't know her, but the name sounded familiar. He clicked the inbox and was surprised to read the first line: Dear Mrs. Ann Mason.
"What the fuck … "
The email wasn't for him; the sender had typed the wrong address. He wanted to ignore it but curiosity got the upper hand. She sounded distraught, probably the reason for the mix-up of names. Something clicked inside his head as he reached over and rifled through the checks he signed. There was one payable to Miranda Benson.
Ace leaned back on his swivel chair. The glow from the computer illuminated his good-looking face. He felt bad about the woman's predicament. She sounded like a devoted mom, and spirited enough to coax her supervisor to plead her case. Her email was concise and clear.
"An intelligent woman my grandfather would approve of." Then, "What if … "
He clicked on the Mac, in search of Mastersons' personnel database. He entered Miranda Bensons name and drummed his fingers on the desk impatiently. The Mac blinked, then pulled the woman's image from its vast memory.
Miranda had a long face and wide jaw line, a broad and beautiful smile that enhanced the attractive face. The distance between her hazel eyes was wide, making them a prominent feature. Her reddish brown hair was tied back, with loose bangs framing her face.
"I wonder how she would look naked, with that hair hanging freely over her shoulder."
Ace shrugged the notion away but an idea hurtled through his brain. If it worked, Grandfather Masterson would hand over control of the company and Miranda Benson would be in a better position to keep her daughter.
***
Miranda reported for work the next day and headed straight for Ann Mason's office. She tossed and turned all night debating if the email had been a bad call. Yesterday she was both panicked and desperate. Today she was just worried about Ann's reaction. She prayed Ann understood her predicament as she headed directly to the woman's cubicle.
"Ann, about the email..." Miranda began.