Ruthless In A Suit
Ruthless In A Suit (Book Three)
Ivy Carter
CADENCE
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
That’s the question that my father asks me, and it’s one I don’t have a good answer for.
“I have to,” I say softly, more to myself than to him.
My father and I trudge up the steps of the post office.
“It seems like the best revenge would be taking his money and running far, far away,” my father continues, shaking his head. “Or at least giving it away. But to give it back to him? Isn’t that what he wanted all along?”
I shrug. I can’t explain it; I just know that I can’t have a single cent of that money in my possession. Not even for a second.
And yeah, the money is what he wanted all along, so giving it to him seems like the perfect revenge. What’s that old saying? When God wants to punish us, he gives us what we want?
Well then Levi can take every last dime and enjoy himself. I hope the weight of it tortures him forever.
Only as soon as I think it, I feel guilt. Because while I hate what he did, I still haven’t managed to shake the knowledge that I don’t want him to be tortured.
I actually want him to be happy.
And if I’m honest with myself, there’s also a little niggling thought at the very back of my mind. Every time it appears, I’m careful and quick to beat it back. But I can’t help but wonder if maybe there was a moment that he wasn’t … I mean, that he actually …
No, I say to myself. He’s a liar and a manipulator, and you can’t believe a thing he said. He wanted the money, he did what he had to do to get it, and now he’s got it. And good luck to him.
I follow my dad into the post office, clutching the manila envelope in my white-knuckled hands.
Shortly after I marched out of Albert’s office, I received an email from him detailing the steps I’d have to take to turn down the estate. Turns out it’s not as simple as making a dramatic declaration and sliding an engagement ring across a desk, though that did feel pretty fucking good in the moment.
I had to draw up a letter declaring my intent to waive my claim to the elder Maxon’s fortune, properties, and business, and I also had to get it notarized.
Shortly after the meeting with Albert, I’d gone to the library, where a nice elderly librarian had helped me flip through a few legal books and surf a few websites until I found what I needed.
I wrote it, printed it, and now I was down to the last step: getting it notarized.
My father, who had been nothing but dumbfounded since I’d marched into the house after leaving Maxon Law, had volunteered to take me to the post office, where one of his colleagues served as notary public.
That first day after finding out was a total nightmare.
All my things were at Levi’s house – which was supposed to be my house, either through marriage or inheritance – but I couldn’t risk going back there and running into him.
I hadn’t cried yet, and I feared seeing his face would send me into a state of hysterics, the likes of which I feared I would not ever recover from. And so I cut my losses and hopped on the red line bound for home. My home.
When I arrived, my father was at work and Brenda was crocheting something hot pink while watching a Tivo-ed episode of The View.
“What are you doing here?” she cried, as if I’d caught her doing something illegal instead of something utterly banal.
“I live here,” I snapped, and she recoiled, surprised by my venom. But I couldn’t help it. I had lots of it, and nowhere for it to go.
“Not anymore you don’t,” she said, when she recovered herself.
“Yes, actually. This is still my home. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in my room.” I turned on my heel and headed down the hall.
“You don’t get to come running back here every time you have a lover’s quarrel,” she called, and than I stopped. Lover? No. Definitely not.
I whirled around and faced her. “There’s not lover’s quarrel, because there’s no lover. There’s only me, and I live here. I’m sorry if that gets in the way of your plans. Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do, and the moment I can, I’ll be gone again. But for now, this is all I have, so you’re going to shut your mouth and deal with it.”
Before she could say another word, I turned on my heel, marched into my room, slammed the door, and let out the choked sob I’d been holding in since Albert had told me the news.
Once I started crying, it was impossible to stop. The dam had broken, and the tears flowed with the force of the Mississippi River unleashed. I laid on my bed, buried my face in my pillow, and breathed in the familiar scent of home as I sobbed for everything I’d lost and how quickly it had happened. And how stupid I had been, to believe that he had loved me. How stupid I’d been to fall for it all.
Ivy Carter
CADENCE
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
That’s the question that my father asks me, and it’s one I don’t have a good answer for.
“I have to,” I say softly, more to myself than to him.
My father and I trudge up the steps of the post office.
“It seems like the best revenge would be taking his money and running far, far away,” my father continues, shaking his head. “Or at least giving it away. But to give it back to him? Isn’t that what he wanted all along?”
I shrug. I can’t explain it; I just know that I can’t have a single cent of that money in my possession. Not even for a second.
And yeah, the money is what he wanted all along, so giving it to him seems like the perfect revenge. What’s that old saying? When God wants to punish us, he gives us what we want?
Well then Levi can take every last dime and enjoy himself. I hope the weight of it tortures him forever.
Only as soon as I think it, I feel guilt. Because while I hate what he did, I still haven’t managed to shake the knowledge that I don’t want him to be tortured.
I actually want him to be happy.
And if I’m honest with myself, there’s also a little niggling thought at the very back of my mind. Every time it appears, I’m careful and quick to beat it back. But I can’t help but wonder if maybe there was a moment that he wasn’t … I mean, that he actually …
No, I say to myself. He’s a liar and a manipulator, and you can’t believe a thing he said. He wanted the money, he did what he had to do to get it, and now he’s got it. And good luck to him.
I follow my dad into the post office, clutching the manila envelope in my white-knuckled hands.
Shortly after I marched out of Albert’s office, I received an email from him detailing the steps I’d have to take to turn down the estate. Turns out it’s not as simple as making a dramatic declaration and sliding an engagement ring across a desk, though that did feel pretty fucking good in the moment.
I had to draw up a letter declaring my intent to waive my claim to the elder Maxon’s fortune, properties, and business, and I also had to get it notarized.
Shortly after the meeting with Albert, I’d gone to the library, where a nice elderly librarian had helped me flip through a few legal books and surf a few websites until I found what I needed.
I wrote it, printed it, and now I was down to the last step: getting it notarized.
My father, who had been nothing but dumbfounded since I’d marched into the house after leaving Maxon Law, had volunteered to take me to the post office, where one of his colleagues served as notary public.
That first day after finding out was a total nightmare.
All my things were at Levi’s house – which was supposed to be my house, either through marriage or inheritance – but I couldn’t risk going back there and running into him.
I hadn’t cried yet, and I feared seeing his face would send me into a state of hysterics, the likes of which I feared I would not ever recover from. And so I cut my losses and hopped on the red line bound for home. My home.
When I arrived, my father was at work and Brenda was crocheting something hot pink while watching a Tivo-ed episode of The View.
“What are you doing here?” she cried, as if I’d caught her doing something illegal instead of something utterly banal.
“I live here,” I snapped, and she recoiled, surprised by my venom. But I couldn’t help it. I had lots of it, and nowhere for it to go.
“Not anymore you don’t,” she said, when she recovered herself.
“Yes, actually. This is still my home. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in my room.” I turned on my heel and headed down the hall.
“You don’t get to come running back here every time you have a lover’s quarrel,” she called, and than I stopped. Lover? No. Definitely not.
I whirled around and faced her. “There’s not lover’s quarrel, because there’s no lover. There’s only me, and I live here. I’m sorry if that gets in the way of your plans. Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do, and the moment I can, I’ll be gone again. But for now, this is all I have, so you’re going to shut your mouth and deal with it.”
Before she could say another word, I turned on my heel, marched into my room, slammed the door, and let out the choked sob I’d been holding in since Albert had told me the news.
Once I started crying, it was impossible to stop. The dam had broken, and the tears flowed with the force of the Mississippi River unleashed. I laid on my bed, buried my face in my pillow, and breathed in the familiar scent of home as I sobbed for everything I’d lost and how quickly it had happened. And how stupid I had been, to believe that he had loved me. How stupid I’d been to fall for it all.