The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 81. Suzie—The Tension.
Suzie sneaked into the workers’ room for the seventh time that morning. Her heart pounded as she fidgeted with the phone.
She knew Walter was safe, but she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something terrible was about to happen.
She dialed Miss Priestly and bit her finger while waiting for the call to connect. Her heart thudded with every ring, her eyes darting over her shoulders, hoping her manager wouldn’t walk in at any moment.
When Miss Priestly picked up, relief washed over her.
"Hi, Miss Priestly. I’m sorry for calling you again."
Miss Priestly didn’t sound annoyed. "It’s alright, ma’am. You don’t have to apologize when it comes to your son’s safety. Walter is doing well, and the bodyguard has been patrolling the school premises all morning."
Suzie’s relief deepened, and it softened her voice. "Thank you so much, Miss Priestly. Really—thank you."
"You’re welcome, ma’am. Bye now."
Suzie ended the call and pressed the phone to her chest. Walter was fine, and that was all that mattered.
She adjusted her hairnet and shook her hands to release the tension building up in her fingers. She had asked Wex to go with Walter, just in case Troy tried to do anything stupid.
She could protect herself—but her baby couldn’t.
The thought of Troy and how he had shown up at her work made her shudder, but she forced the thought away.
He was trying to break her—to crush her spirit and soul. But she would never let him.
He would have to try a lot harder than sitting in her workplace, saying nothing, and giving her soft, taunting looks.
A lot harder than that.
Just as she was about to leave the workers’ room, her phone rang. She sighed when she saw the caller ID.
"Hello, Mrs. Wahlberg," she drawled.
"Don’t use that tone on me," Mrs. Wahlberg snapped. "You haven’t been in your house all week, and I’m beginning to think you’re not taking this seriously."
Suzie rolled her eyes. "I am, Mrs. Wahlberg. I’ve just not been home."
It felt good to be away from her tiny apartment. She didn’t miss it at all, not the cramped space, and definitely not the nosy neighbors. The only downside was the hotel bills piling up, which Mr. Allens had been covering.
He hadn’t complained.
But still...
"I left a letter from my lawyer on your front porch," Mrs. Wahlberg said, her voice tight. "I expect a reply by Monday at the latest."
Suzie sighed. "Mrs. Wahlberg, are we really doing this? We can solve this without going to court. Your grandson is okay now."
Mrs. Wahlberg bristled. "Absolutely not! Just because he’s fine doesn’t mean you get to go scot-free. You and your fancy friends need to be held accountable."
Before Suzie could respond, the door to the workers’ room flew open.
"What the hell, Jameson!" her manager shouted.
Suzie grimaced. "Let me call you back, Mrs. Wahlberg."
But Mrs. Wahlberg wasn’t finished. "Monday! By then you’ll know—"
Suzie ended the call and tucked the phone into her apron. She turned to her manager with a tight smile. "Hey, D."
"Don’t Hey, D me," he snapped. "You’ve been doing this all week, sneaking in here, making calls, neglecting your work. We work as a team."
Her smile faded. "I know, D. I was—"
"You’re putting extra work on your colleagues," D interrupted. "If everyone acted like you, this place would fall apart!"
Her stomach twisted. He wasn’t even listening, his face was red with anger. "I understand, D. I’m sorry. It’s just... a lot has been going on and I—"
"Fix it! It’s affecting everyone else!"
She swallowed. "Yes, I will," she said with a nod.
D ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his jacket. "This is coming out of your paycheck."
She blinked. "But D—"
"Dah dah dah," he said, raising his hand. "That’s the only way you’ll learn, Jameson. I’m sure this won’t happen again, right?"
The look in his eyes left no room for argument.
"Right," she sighed.
"Good. Now, get to work."
Suzie frowned as she pushed open the kitchen door. From the looks on her colleagues’ faces, she knew they had heard everything.
"What?" she snapped. "Don’t you have better things to do?"
No one answered. They just continued with their work.
Suzie wiped the sweat from her forehead and walked up to the chefs.
"Any orders left to deliver?"
"Table 16 and 24," one chef replied, pointing at the trays.
"Thanks," she said, grabbing the plates. She pasted on her waitress smile and stepped into the restaurant.
She delivered the meals quickly, offering her usual "here you go" and "would that be all?" to each table.
Just as she turned away, someone called out for her attention. She rushed to the table, pulling out her jotter and pen.
"My name is Suzie, how can I—"
Her smile instantly vanished. Her stomach dropped.
It was him. Troy.
He smiled at her like she was an old friend, like he had never put hers and her son’s life in danger, like he was the most normal man in the universe.
But she saw his eyes, cold and burning with anger, and it made her insides twist with dread.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear.
Troy chuckled. "Depends on what you serve me, Zeezee."
She gasped at the nickname, her cheeks turning red. "Get out, Troy," she said, her voice quaking and betraying her.
"I just want to be with you again," he said softly, but she didn’t believe him one bit. "I miss us," he added, brushing her hand.
She yanked it away. "There was never an ’us.’ Now leave!" She managed to say that firmly.
The warmth in his expression disappeared, replaced with rage. "Fine. I want my son."
She gasped at his guts, but quickly recovered. "You lost that right the day you went to jail. He’s mine now," she snapped through gritted teeth.
Troy’s jaw clenched. "Don’t play games with me. I know where he goes to school, I know you stay in that fancy hotel. I work in New Orleans now, and I am not going anywhere!"
Suzie flinched. A few patrons looked their way. Fear gripped Suzie, but she tried her best to control it.
"Get out!"
He didn’t move.
"I’ll call the police!"
He scoffed.
"My manager has a gun!"
That seemed to do the trick. Troy slowly stood, his eyes blazing.
Suzie backed away, terror seeping into her veins, tears pricking her eyes.
"It’s not over," he spat. "I know everything! I know where to find you and my child!" He yelled and stormed out of the restaurant.
Suzie stood frozen, tears sliding down her cheeks, until the sharp screech of tires jolted her back to reality.
She ran into the kitchen.
"What was that about?" D asked, but she ignored him as she ran to the worker’s room.
She dialed Miss Priestly’s number, her pulse thudded rapidly in her ears.
Was her baby safe?
"Please pick up. Please pick up," she whispered through tears.
When there was no answer, Suzie removed her apron and tossed it on the kitchen floor.
D called after her, but she ignored him as she bolted from the restaurant.
She didn’t know how she avoided a speeding ticket, but she found herself at Walter’s school.
She ran straight to his classroom, and when she saw her baby, more tears fell.
Miss Priestly approached her. "Miss Jameson, you—"
"Where’s his school bag? And lunch box?"
Miss Priestly didn’t argue, she just handed them over.
Suzie picked up Walter and carried him out without another word. As she neared the car, Wex joined her, his face puzzled.
"What happened, ma’am?"
"Nothing," she sniffled, wiping her face. "Let’s just go back to the hotel."
Wex nodded and opened the door for her. He drove in silence.
She knew they couldn’t stay at the hotel anymore, not with Troy threats. She didn’t know where she was going, but she was definitely not staying in that hotel for the night.
But as they pulled up to the hotel room, Suzie’s stomach dropped.
Something was wrong.
Wex sensed it too, and he stepped forward. "Let me go in first."
Suzie knew she was supposed to wait, but she couldn’t stay still with the tension running through her.
She followed him in—and froze.
All her clothes were overturned. Walter’s toys and clothes were strewn across the floor.
"What the hell!" Wex exclaimed. "Who could have done this?"
Oh, she knew.
Only one person was capable of such a sinister behavior.
Troy.
