Six Years Later, He's My Boss

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Thomas stood in the rain, his phone clutched in one hand, watching the driveway for any sign of headlights. The journey from the estate to the main road was over two miles of winding, unlit private drive. On foot, in a storm, Ambelyn would be lucky to make it halfway before Marcus caught up to her.

And then she would come back. She would apologize. She would understand that leaving him was not an option, had never been an option. The Blackwoods didn't divorce. They didn't air their dirty laundry in public. They certainly didn't allow their wives to walk away with their dignity intact.

His phone buzzed with another message. He looked down, expecting to see Ambelyn's name, probably begging him to come pick her up, that she had changed her mind.

Instead, it was from his business partner, Gerald Hutchinson: who had sent him a text.

*Heard some interesting rumors tonight. Call me.*

Thomas's stomach clenched with dread as his mind was spiraling, trying to think of what Gerald could possibly want to tell him at this moment? How could anyone know already? Unless... unless Ambelyn had been planning this longer than he thought.

Unless she had already been spreading her poison to their social circle, laying the groundwork for her departure, so that when she left, she would have the backing from everyone else, who would see the truth though Amberlyn's tainted lens.

The front door opened again, and Veronica appeared, looking bloody murderous that Thomas was still out here, bothered about Amberlyn. She was now wearing a raincoat and holding another umbrella. Her expression was carefully composed, the moment, Thomas turned around to see who it was but Thomas could see the calculation in her eyes.

"Thomas, darling, come inside. You'll catch your death out here."

"I'm not going anywhere until Marcus brings her back."

Veronica's lips thinned almost immediately as she forced herself to continue speaking.

"And then what? You force her to stay? You lock her in her room like some Victorian husband? She signed the papers, Thomas. You signed them. It's done."

"Nothing is done until I say it's done." He turned to face her fully, and something in his expression made her take a step back.

"You think this changes things for you? For us? It doesn't. Not yet. Not until I've dealt with her."

"I don't understand." But the lie was transparent. Veronica understood perfectly. As long as Thomas was obsessed with controlling Ambelyn, there was no room in his mind for thoughts of making Veronica his legitimate wife. "She's nothing to you. She's always been nothing."

"She made me look like a fool." The admission came out raw, almost vulnerable. "In front of my mother. In front of you. She acted like—like she was better than all of us. Like she was doing us a favor by leaving."

"Maybe she was."

The words hung in the rain-soaked air between them. Thomas stared at Veronica, seeing her clearly for perhaps the first time. She wasn't concerned about his dignity or his family's reputation. She was concerned about her own position, her own plans. Ambelyn's dramatic exit had disrupted the carefully orchestrated transition Veronica had been planning.

"Go back inside," he said quietly. "This doesn't concern you."

"Of course it concerns me. I'm the mother of your heir, or have you forgotten?"

"Lucas is my son. That doesn't make you my wife."

The slap came without warning, Veronica's palm connecting with his cheek in a crack that somehow carried over the sound of the rain. They stood frozen, both shocked by the violence of the gesture.

"Don't you dare," Veronica hissed, her careful composure finally shattering completely, as her anger began to bleed out, but Veronica did not pay attention to that at all.

"Don't you dare treat me like I'm disposable. I've given you three years, Thomas. Three years of waiting and planning and playing second fiddle to that pathetic little mouse, who had been nothing but a source of constant annoyance towards you. And now that she's finally gone, you want to chase after her like some lovesick puppy? For what? So you can drag her back and prove you're still in control?"

Thomas touched his stinging cheek, his expression unreadable. "Get out of my sight."

"Thomas—"

"Now."

Veronica held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned and stalked back toward the house, her spine rigid with fury. Thomas watched her go, feeling nothing but a cold, empty anger that had nowhere left to go but inward.

His phone rang. Marcus.

"Did you find her?" Thomas demanded, as soon as he picked up the phone.

"No, sir." Marcus's voice was apologetic, as he explained himself.

"I've driven the entire length of the private road twice. There's no sign of Mrs. Blackwood. She must have gotten a ride somehow. There is no other explanation for her being gone so instantly."

The information hit Thomas like a physical blow. Someone had picked her up. Someone had helped her escape. "Who?"

"I couldn't say, sir. But there are tire tracks near the gate from a vehicle that doesn't match any of the family cars. Looks like a sedan, possibly luxury model based on the tread pattern."

Thomas ended the call without responding to him.

His mind raced through possibilities. Who would Ambelyn know who drove a luxury sedan? She had no friends that he knew of—he had made sure of that over the years, isolating her from her college acquaintances and making it clear that Blackwood wives didn't socialize with common people, and had kept her in a gilded cage, only to look good when the time was right.

Unless she had betrayed him before now.

The thought made him irrationally angry, though somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered that he had driven her to this. That five years of contempt and cruelty had consequences. That you couldn't treat a person like garbage and expect them to stay forever.

But Thomas Blackwood wasn't a man who listened to small voices of conscience.