The man kicked me out onto the street with our two children, but a year later, he was on his knees begging me for money…
“Hello, Dragonfly,” came the painfully familiar voice through the phone. “Didnt expect to hear from me?”
Keira froze, the perfume bottle in her hand suddenly heavy. The air in her walk-in closet, thick with sandalwood and the scent of success, turned stiflinglike the stairwell where shed slept with the kids a year ago.
“What do you want, Gavin?”
She forced her voice steady. Forced herself not to glance toward the nursery, where Maisie and Poppys laughter floated in.
“Straight to the point, then? No how are you? No catching up? Were not strangers, Keira. Weve got two children together, in case youve forgotten.”
His chuckle scraped against her nerves like rusted nails on glass. A year. A whole year without that smug tone, that unspoken claim he still had on her life.
“I remember. What. Do. You. Want?”
She set the bottle down on the marble vanity. Her fingers trembled, but her voice didnt. Shed learned that much.
“Money.”
Short. Simple. No apologies, no preamble. He hadnt changed.
“Are you serious?”
“Do I sound like Im joking?” His voice sharpened with anger. “Ive got problems, Keira. Big ones. And you? Looks like lifes a peach. Mansion. Billionaire husband. The papers werent lying, then?”
She stayed silent, staring at her reflection. The woman in the silk robe, hair styled at a Mayfair salon, wasnt the same broken fool hed thrown out with two bags of baby clothes.
“Surely your new sugar daddy can spare a few quid for the man who made you who you are.”
Business went south, you see? Happens to the best of us. Invested in crypto, lost it all. Now I owe some very serious people.
She pictured him saying itsprawled in an armchair, that same arrogant smirk, certain shed crumble. That the guilt hed spent years drilling into her would work.
“You threw us out in winter, Gavin. Remember what Poppy said when we were sleeping at the train station?”
“Oh, spare me the sob story. Ancient history. Im not asking for Buckingham Palace. £50,000. Pocket change for you. Call it a silence fee.”
“Silence? About what?”
“About how you landed this sweet deal. Think your precious Oliver would love to hear a few juicy details from our past?”
The door opened. Oliver stepped incalm, assured, in a Savile Row suit. He took one look at her face and frowned silently: *Everything alright?*
Keira watched him, his steady presence, while Gavins hissing filled her ear. Two worlds. The one shed built, and the one trying to wreck it.
“Well, Keira?” Gavin pressed. “Help a bloke out? If a man crawls back a year later, things must be bad.”
She gave Oliver a slow nod*Ive got this.* And for the first time in the conversation, her voice held something new. Not fear. Something cold. Sharp.
“Where and when?”
They met in a generic café at Westfieldloud music, popcorn smell, teenagers laughing. The perfect place for a scream to go unheard.
Old habit: solve problems where scenes wont be made.
Gavin was already there, in a suit that pretended to be expensive but screamed polyester. He stirred orange juice lazily.
“Late,” he said instead of hello. “Rude to keep your kids father waiting.”
Keira sat. Her hand stayed on her bag. It felt safer.
“Im not giving you £50,000.”
“No?” He finally looked up. Envy swam in his eyes as they traced her dress, her ring. “Changed your mind? I could call your Ollie right now. Getting his numbers easy.”
“Ill give you £250,000. And a job. Oliver has connections”
Gavin laughed. Loud. Heads turned.
“A *job*? Youre having a laugh! Want me begging for interviews like some intern? You forgot who I am, Keira. Im a businessman. I need capital, not handouts.”
He leaned in, voice dropping to a hiss:
“Playing the saint now? Think I dont know how you got him? Painted me as a monster, yourself as some damsel? Bet hed love to hear how you called me a week before you met him, sobbing, begging me back.”
Each word hit like a hammer. He was targeting her deepest fearthat Oliver would see her as she was before: weak. Broken.
Keira pulled out a chequebook. Still hoping for mercy. Still trying to be kind.
“£10,000. Thats all Ill give. Take it and disappear. Please.”
She slid it across.
Gavin pinched the cheque between two fingers, studied it like a rare artifact. Then slowly, savagely, tore it apart.
“Trying to humiliate me?” he spat. “Ten grand? Thats your thanks for the years I wasted on you? On *them*?”
He flung the shreds at her. They fluttered onto the table like dead moths.
“Fifty grand, Keira. Or Ill be your nightmare. Calling. Texting. Meeting the kids after school. Telling them about their *real* dad. Youve got a week.”
He tossed crumpled notes for his juice and left without a glance.
Keira sat motionless, staring at the torn paper. The music blared. People laughed. Inside her, something hardened. Fear turned to ice.
For a week, she barely slept. Jumped at every call. Then, on day seven, he struck.
Poppy came home from art club quiet. At bedtime, Keira spotted a lollipop in her handone she hadnt bought.
“Whered you get this, love?”
Poppy whispered, scared:
“A man gave it to me. Said hes my real dad. That wed leave mean Uncle Ollie soon. Mummy, we wont leave Daddy Ollie, will we?”
Something *clicked* inside Keira. Fear vanished. Only cold resolve remained.
Hed touched her children. Used them.
*Enough.*
That night, when Oliver came home, he found a different woman waitingdry-eyed, steady.
“We need to talk,” she said, guiding him to his study.
And she told him everything. No tears. No excuses. How Gavin had thrown them out. The nights in the stairwell. The begging. The fear. And todayPoppy.
Oliver listened, face hardening. When she finished, he asked just one question:
“What do you want to do?”
His voice was calm. But beneath it, steel.
“I want him gone. Forever. But not how he thinks. No payoff. I want him to realize he made the worst mistake of his life.”
She met his eyesand for the first time, saw not just love, but approval of her darkest self.
Ten minutes later, she dialed Gavin. Her hands didnt shake.
“Ill do it,” she said flatly. “£50,000. Tomorrow noon. Ill text the address. Come alone.”
Gavins smug chuckle filled the line:
“Theres my clever girl. Knew youd see sense.”
She hung up. The address wasnt a bank or restaurant. It was the headquarters of Olivers corporation.
Gavin strutted into the glass skyscraper like a conquering king. Shoulders back, best suit on, eyeing the lobbys cold opulence. He was here for his money. His “justice.”
They took him to the 40th floora boardroom with a wall of windows overlooking London like a toy city.
Keira waited at the head of the table, poised in navy blue. Oliver beside her. A stone-faced manOlivers head of securitynearby.
“Sit, Gavin,” Keira said.
His confidence flickered. Hed expected her alone, scared, with a briefcase.
“Whats this, then?” He jerked his chin at Oliver. “Family meeting? I thought it was just us.”
“You made a deal with my family,” Oliver said, voice like granite. “This is different.”
Keira slid a folder across.
“£50,000, Gavin. You wanted it. But just handing it over? Too dull. Were investing it in you.”
Gavin stared.
“Whats this?”
“Your business,” the security chief said. “Or whats left of it. Debts. Pending fraud charges. Very risky assets.”
He flipped the folder open. Loan documents. Account statements. Photos of Gavin with dangerous men. His face paled.
“We cleared your most urgent debts,” Keira said. “The kind where collectors dont wait for trials. Consider it a gift. But in return”
Oliver placed papers and a
