Chapter 809
The day he was discharged from the hospital, Baillie went straight to the county clerk’s office to finalize his divorce. His ex-wife was brisk and unsentimental, ending their marriage without a shred of regret.
As they were leaving, Baillie finally asked the question that had been weighing on him for months. “Flora… that baby… was it really mine?”
Flora stopped and stared at him. “What are you trying to say?”
Baillie’s lips tightened, but he said nothing.
She remembered his strangely passive reaction on the day of the accident, and a bitter smile touched her lips. “So that’s it. You always believed the child wasn’t yours. That’s why, deep down, you never wanted it to be born, did you?”
“I… I had my doubts,” he admitted.
He had worried that the child wasn’t his, that if it didn’t look like him, he would become a laughingstock. The fear had planted a dark seed in his heart. That was why, when the accident happened, his first instinct hadn’t been to protect his wife. It was why he hadn’t rushed her to the hospital. When she miscarried, a part of him had been relieved, thinking he had escaped being publicly cuckolded. He had thought that if they lost that child, they might still have a chance to have one of their own and save the marriage.
But things had not gone according to his plan.
“Baillie, in your entire family, the only one with a brain is the sister you threw out,” Flora said, her voice sharp with contempt. “The only reason you ever became successful was because you got lucky. You rode a wave of economic prosperity. The minute things got tough, the Windsor family started sinking.”
“And even then, you couldn’t see the writing on the wall. You wanted everything, but you weren’t willing to give anything. It was an honor for you that I chose to marry you. And let’s be clear, that child was yours. But even if it wasn’t, even if I had married you just to give my child a father, you should have been on your knees thanking me. I gave you millions of dollars to rebuild The Windsor Group. Wasn’t that enough to soothe your pathetic male ego? You wanted to spend my money without feeling the slightest bit of discomfort. Why should you get everything? There are men younger and better-looking than you all over the place. Did you really think you were something special?”
Her words were a brutal, public evisceration. Baillie stood there, stripped of all dignity, unable to speak.
Rosetta, who had accompanied him, couldn’t stand to hear her son insulted like that. She stepped forward. “What do you mean he wasn’t uncomfortable? You ordered him around constantly, made him do this and that, and you even hit him when you were angry! A woman like you will never get married!”
“Ha! That’s hilarious!” Flora shot back. “I poured a fortune into your son’s company, I fed and housed you both. I was your personal ATM, and any sane person would have been treating me like a queen! But you two still had the audacity to act high and mighty with me!”
Now that she was started, Flora couldn’t stop. All the resentment she had been suppressing came pouring out. “You think I didn’t know what you were saying about me behind my back? You curse me to a life alone? I have more money than I know what to do with! Why would I need a husband? Maybe you should worry less about my love life and more about how you and your son are going to survive!”
With that, a luxury car pulled up to the curb and honked. Flora scoffed, shot them one last look of disgust, and walked away.
Baillie watched as she got into the car. In the driver’s seat sat a man who was undeniably younger and more handsome than he was.
Rosetta saw it too. “Shameless hussy! Slut! Some man is going to cheat you out of every last penny you have!” she screeched, inadvertently calling her own son a con man in the process.
Baillie’s face darkened even further.
His phone rang, shattering the tense silence. It was a call from the company. His jaw tightened.
As they got into their own car, Rosetta’s bluster faded, replaced by a nervous tremor. “Baillie, is there any way to save the company?”
Baillie started the car, his face a stony mask. He didn’t answer her question. “I’m listing this car for sale later today. From now on, we’ll take the bus.”
“What? You’re selling the car?” Rosetta was stunned.
“How else are we going to afford rent?”
Windsor Manor was gone, and they had no money to rebuild it. Even if they did, the property was no longer in their name.
“That woman is so cruel,” Rosetta muttered. “She has so much money, what’s one house to her? You get married, you get divorced, and now you’re a divorcé! Shouldn’t she have given you some kind of settlement?”
“Mom, just drop it…”
“Why should I? You shouldn’t have agreed to the divorce so easily. You should have at least gotten a house out of it. Now we don’t even have a place to live! You’ll want to get married again someday. What will you do without a house? Women these days are so materialistic, they always ask for—”
“I SAID, DROP IT! CAN’T YOU HEAR ME?”
Baillie, who had been driving in stoic silence, suddenly erupted. His roar was like a thunderclap, so loud it felt like it might blow the roof off the car.