I Took the Money and the Quadruplets Chapter 02

I Took the Money and the Quadruplets Chapter 02

An hour later, I was sitting in first class on a flight to California when the notification from my mobile banking app finally came through.

I looked at the long string of numbers in my account balance and couldn’t help but smile.

Sometimes, security is that simple. Money is a wonderfully useful thing.

I didn’t go to Los Angeles or San Francisco. I flew straight to Monterey, rented a car, and drove down the coast to Carmel.

It was a small town I had only ever seen in art history books.

The ocean, the cypress trees, the quiet streets, and the houses with attached art studios.

When the real estate agent saw me, he glanced at the small suitcase in my hand, then put on a professional smile.

“Hello. Do you have an appointment?”

“No.” I pointed to a photo on the wall behind him. “I want to see that one. The one with the studio and the ocean-view terrace. If it’s right, I’ll buy it today.”

His professional smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

I didn’t say another word. I just pulled up my proof of funds on my phone and showed him the screen.

In the next second, his entire demeanor shifted.

“Of course. Please, come in. This property is one of our premier listings. It’s called Song of the Tide. The view is unparalleled, and the studio is state-of-the-art…”

Half an hour later, I bought it on the spot.

I moved in that same day.

Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the Pacific crash against the shore, I felt a knot I hadn’t known I was carrying finally unwind.

I touched my stomach.

“You’re going to like it here.”

Once I was settled, the first thing I did was call my mentor in New York, Julian.

He picked up almost instantly.

“Ava, so you finally remembered your old professor?” His voice was as theatrical as ever. “How’s Texas? Has that oil baron turned you into a lady who lunches? Are you still painting?”

My nose stung, and my eyes grew hot.

“Julian…”

“What is it? Who made you cry? Don’t move. I’m booking a flight to Dallas this instant.”

“No one bullied me,” I said quickly. “I just missed you.”

He was silent for two seconds.

“Right. Now tell me what really happened.”

I took a breath.

“I’m divorced.”

The other end of the line went quiet for a long time.

“Divorced?” he finally said. “Did he lose his mind, or did you finally come to your senses?”

“The latter, I hope,” I said. “It’s over.”

“Good.” His tone brightened immediately. “I told you the Walker family was no place for you. Where are you now?”

“California. Carmel. I bought a house. I’m starting over. I’m going to launch my own art investment firm.”

“Carmel?” Julian’s tone shifted. “That’s not a cheap zip code. Where did the money come from?”

“The divorce settlement.”

“Well, at least the bastard paid up.” Julian snorted. “No, I’m still not convinced you’re all right. I’m coming to see you next week.”

“Okay.”

After hanging up, I felt a thousand pounds lighter.

At that moment, the atmosphere inside Walker Group headquarters was turning glacial.

The divorce wasn’t even Liam’s idea. At the time, he was overseas closing a critical acquisition, and a mountain of documents was being routed through his assistant and legal teams.

One person on that team was an insider, planted there by a competitor, Hathaway Energy.

The person who had arranged it was Cassidy Hathaway.

Cassidy had known Liam since they were children. Most of Dallas society had assumed she would one day be Mrs. Walker.

A year ago, when Liam suddenly announced his marriage to me, the entire city was stunned. Cassidy, especially, could not accept it.

She was convinced I had stolen the life that should have been hers.

This time, with Liam out of the country, she slipped a pre-drafted document into a stack of time-sensitive legal papers. Then, through her contact in the legal department, she fast-tracked the process and triggered the divorce.

Her plan was simple.

She believed Liam had long since tired of me. She was certain I would cling desperately to my title, that I would cry, make a scene, refuse to sign, and turn the whole affair into a public scandal. Liam’s succession would be tainted by public disgrace. Then she could swoop in, comfort him like the old friend she was, and buy the Hathaway family precious time while striking a blow against me.

She never counted on one thing.

I didn’t want to be a Walker in the first place.

At the Walker estate, the butler stood at the entrance to the study and reported quietly to Walker Sr.

“Sir, Mrs. Walker has left.”

“So she’s gone.” Walker Sr. didn’t even look up from his papers. “She never belonged here anyway. Has her room been cleared?”

“Yes, sir,” the butler said. “She took only one suitcase. The same one she arrived with.”

Walker Sr. still showed no reaction.

The butler paused, then continued, “The jewelry, sir. The pieces you and Mr. Liam gifted her, and the Centurion card. She left them all. There was no message.”

Walker Sr.’s hand stilled.

He looked up at the butler.

“Say that again.”