hapter 7
Rolland pouted, tears clinging to his lashes. “Nigel, Lottie scared me again today! She said there was a monster hid- ing in the painting, and that it would eat my arms. That’s why I…”
“No,” Nigel cut him off, shaking his head.
He gently ruffled Rolland’s hair. “Rolland, maybe you misunderstood? Lottie has the kindest heart in our family. She told you last night she wasn’t mad anymore-she wouldn’t scare you like that again.”
He turned to Esther, his tone firm. “And besides, Grandpa loved her the most. She would never use one of his paint- ings like that-not even as a joke.”
The message was clear.
Esther stared at him, stunned. “You’re saying Rolland and I made the whole thing up? That we’re lying to frame her?”
“Nigel! You’ve changed!”
The accusation stung, sparking something in him-but when he met her hurt expression, he swallowed the frustration and kept his voice steady.
“Esther, I haven’t changed. I’ve been the same from the start.”
She looked at him closely, her voice quieter but sharper. “Then tell me honestly-have you ever had feelings for Lot- tie? You never touched her, not even once?”
Nigel had always thought he could face her with a clear conscience.
But now, faced with that question, the words didn’t come as easily.
His shoulders tensed, and his gaze dropped. “I never touched her.”
It was true.
He, Nigel, had wronged Lottie deeply.
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“I never touched her.”
Lottie was coming down the stairs, one hand braced against her back, the other holding a gift box-just in time to hear those five cold, clipped words.
No hesitation. No emotion.
She let out a quiet, self-mocking smile and kept walking toward them.
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Chapter 7
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“Nigel,” she said evenly, “Grandma asked me to check if you’re free tomorrow night for the Pollard family’s dinner.”
Lilly Pollard had been a longtime friend of Lottie’s parents. After they passed away, she took Lottie in and raised her like one of her own.
To most people, Lottie was practically part of the Pollard family.
And even after she married into the Mathis family, the business ties between the two families had stayed strong.
Hearing her mention the dinner, Nigel-perhaps still feeling the weight of his earlier words-nodded immediately. “Sure. I’ll come pick you up. We’ll go together.”
“Alright.”
Lottie glanced down at the box in her hands, then at the mother and child sitting beside him. She wisely said nothing more, turned, and walked toward the door.
Her friend Nancy had just won a big case and invited her out to celebrate. They’d planned to go shopping, but after hearing about Lottie’s ankle, they settled for dinner instead.
Just as she was about to step out, Nigel called after her-on impulse. “Lottie… what’s in the box?”
She paused, turned slightly, and lifted it. “A gift.”
“A gift? Someone’s birthday today?”
She smiled faintly. “It was supposed to be an anniversary present. Today marks three years.”
“Lottie… I’m sorry…”
“It’s alright,” she said lightly. “You’ve been busy. It’s understandable you forgot.”
Her voice was gentle as always, her eyes as clear as ever. She stepped closer, holding out the box with both hands.
“Your birthday’s coming up in a couple of weeks anyway. Let’s just call it an early gift.”
Then, with a soft smile, she added, “Happy birthday, Nigel.”
-And silently, to herself: And happy divorce to me.
Nigel took the gift box from her hands, and for a split second, something sharp grazed across his chest.
Not pain, exactly-just a breath that caught in his throat.
The bow on top of the box was tied with care and precision.
You could tell how much thought she’d put into it. How long she must’ve been preparing.
And yet, he was a complete bastard-harboring selfish, shameful feelings he couldn’t even say out loud.
