Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Madi
I compartmentalize for a few hours, focusing on the fires that need to be put out around the office, then I pick up the phone to call my mom.
Her last class ends at four, so she should be available to pick up. “Hi, sweetheart!” she exclaims, like she’s shocked that I called. A stab of guilt hits me for being so engulfed in my job that I haven’t called her at school in weeks. “What’s going on?”
“Well, I’m still at work. I had lunch with Eleanor Harrington today.”
“What?” The shock in my mom’s voice is all I need to confirm Brick’s suspicions. “I’m sorry, who did you say?”
“Eleanor Harrington. Do you know her?”
“Uh, well…I’ve met her once or twice. She’s one of the donors at Landhower.”
“Yes. I understand she was the donor who funded my education there.”
“Did she tell you that?” I sense a note of hysteria in my mom’s voice.
“No.” I don’t say any more. I know from all the books I’ve read on interrogation and negotiation, the less you say, the more power you hold.
“What did she tell you?”
“Who is she, Mom?”
There’s a pause. “What do you mean?”
“Who is Brett Harrington? What do I need to know here?”
“Maybe you should come over for dinner tonight.” My mom sounds defeated. “I can answer all your questions.”
“I can’t come tonight,” I snap. “I have the company holiday party. I need the answers now, Mom. Please. I really hate when I don’t have a full picture, especially when it comes to my own life.”
“It sounds like you already know, Madi. What do you want me to say?”
I fling my free hand in the air in exasperation. “Give me the abridged version. Just some concrete facts.”
“Okay.” She draws in an audible breath. “Brett Harrington is your dad. I met him at Oxford when I was there for my PhD. When I told him I was pregnant, he asked me to get an abortion. I refused, and we broke up. Eleanor flew out and paid me a visit. She offered me a large sum of money if I would end the pregnancy. I told her to go fuck herself. She got nasty–threatened to get me thrown out of Oxford through her contacts there. I decided if the Harrington’s were so eager not to be associated with us, I didn’t want any part of them. I called Brett–your sperm donor–and told him I’d miscarried, and he didn’t need to worry about the baby. He never followed up, but his mom wasn’t so easy to get rid of. So we came to an agreement.”
Nausea rolls over me again. “What was the agreement?”
“She paid off my student loans and gave me a lump sum in exchange for my signature on papers relinquishing all rights to any Harrington inheritance or paternity suits. I don’t know if it would actually hold up in a court of law, but I wanted nothing to do with that vile family after that. I figured we were better off without them.”
I blink back tears. “Yeah. Agreed. But you let her pay for my education?”
“I didn’t realize she was the one pulling strings at first. By the time I did, you were already a sophomore. You didn’t like it socially, but you were excelling so much academically, I couldn’t bear to pull you out. I talked to you about it, remember? You wanted to stay because you could take six AP classes a semester there. You loved the challenge.”
She’s right. I did. Academic success was a new game for me then. I loved pushing myself to see how far and fast I could go. “I remember.”
“I’ve debated telling you, but I wasn’t sure it would do anything but hurt you.”
“Yeah. I get that. Knowing does hurt.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I really am. They’re classist assholes. She has no right to contact you now. What–she waited to see how you turned out, and now that you’re a Princeton grad working on Wall Street, you’re good enough? That’s a steaming pile of bullshit, as far as I’m concerned.”
My mom doesn’t usually resort to cursing, and I suddenly want to hug her. The Harringtons’ assholery affected her far more than it has me. I was oblivious to the rejection, while she had to live with it and hide it from me all these years.
“It’s fine. But you’re right. That’s exactly the score.”
After a moment of silence, my mom asks, “What are you going to do?” The fact that she sounds scared–like she might lose me to these assholes–guts me.
“I’m going to tell her to go fuck herself,” I say although it’s more for my mom than for me.
My mom lets out an audible breath.
“I love you, Mom.”
“Oh, Madi.” She’s choked up. “I love you so much. I’m sorry if this hurt you.”
“I’m fine. I’m sorry it hurt you. I have to go, but let’s do dinner tomorrow?”