My Mom Invaded My Privacy, I Cut Her Off

Chapter 3

I swallowed my disgust and maintained the bare minimum of courtesy.

"Mr. Walker, I think there's been a misunderstanding. My mom tricked me into coming here. I'm not here for a blind date—"

"Blind date or not, once you meet in person, isn't that what this is?"

He cut me off with a grin, yellowing teeth stained with nicotine.

"Your mom told me all about you. Buying that kind of thing is pretty inappropriate, sure, but I'm not gonna hold it against you. But once you're with me, you'll throw that thing away. And cut ties with those questionable coworkers of yours. All you have to do is stay home and take care of me and my son."

He looked me up and down as if he were sizing up something on clearance.

"Oh, and quit that dead-end job of yours. Any company that designs that kind of stuff clearly isn't respectable. And your hair. What kind of woman keeps it that short? Go get extensions tomorrow. Otherwise, forget about me marrying you."

He reached out to touch my hair, but I turned my head and dodged his hand.

He wasn't embarrassed in the slightest. Instead, he chuckled.

"Got some attitude, huh? I like my women feisty. Makes them more fun to tame."

The little boy beside him put down his phone and pointed at me.

"Dad, is she the lady who can't live without a man?"

Marcus burst out laughing. "That's my boy. Smart as a whip, aren't you? You even know that!"

The boy pouted. "Dad, I don't want her to be my mom. My classmates will make fun of me."

Marcus patted his son on the head. "What does a kid know? But…"

He turned to me, his eyes suddenly critical.

"Stella, if you want to marry me, you'll have to show some sincerity too. You own a house, don't you? You'll need to put my name on the deed. I've got a son to think about. Gotta make sure he's taken care of, right?"

He leaned back against the sofa, crossed his legs, and waited for me to agree with the smug look of a man convinced I'd just been handed the deal of a lifetime.

My mother immediately chimed in.

"Stella, Marcus is a great catch. And you won't even have to go through the trouble of having children yourself. Mom can finally stop worrying about you."

I looked at the ridiculous scene in front of me and almost laughed.

My mother was practically beaming as she tried to play matchmaker. Marcus sat there with his legs crossed, judging me like I was a product up for inspection. And his son was already making it clear he didn't want me.

"Mom, stop worrying? What exactly are you so worried about?"

"Stel—"

I ignored her and looked straight at Marcus.

"Marcus Walker, right? You make what, four grand a month working for the city? And you actually think you can afford to support me? With that body of yours—built like a squash sitting down and a gourd standing up? And my house is worth 8,000 dollars a square meter. What exactly are you bringing to the table to get your name on the deed? That son of yours who's worth nothing? As for my little toy…"

I smiled.

"I bought it because I wanted it. What the hell does it have to do with you? Actually, you're the one I find funny. You're in your forties, already halfway to the grave, dragging around an ill-mannered kid, with a piece of food still stuck to your teeth, and you think you get to judge me? Who the hell do you think you are?"

Then I looked at my mother, suddenly feeling like I barely knew her anymore.

"Mom."

I asked quietly, "Did you trick me into coming here just so you could hand me over to a man like this? I had no idea you'd gone into the pimping business."

My mother's face flushed crimson.

"What the hell are you talking about? I—"

"Shut up!"

I shouted, and she flinched.

"Linda Sinclair, listen carefully. This is the last meal we'll ever share."

I turned and walked out without looking back, ignoring the shouting behind me.

"Ungrateful brat!"