My Ex Is My Boss and He Wants Me Back Chapter 22

My Ex Is My Boss and He Wants Me Back Chapter 22

Five years later.

A cold winter afternoon.

I had just finished closing a major deal and stepped out of a private business club.

On the sidewalk, two vagabonds were curled up in a corner against the wall.

One had a head of white hair, her back bent so deeply she looked folded in half.

The other was a middle-aged man. One pant leg hung empty, flapping in the wind, his eyes blank.

I stopped.

It was Brian and his mother.

I had heard about it. Brian had offended the wrong people in prison, and his leg had been broken.

After he got out, the disability and the criminal record turned him into someone society didn’t want.

Margaret was old. Begging was the only way she could keep the two of them alive.

As for Ashley, she had married into another city long ago and never bothered with them again.

Margaret held out a chipped bowl toward a passerby’s feet, her voice low and pleading. “Please, show some

kindness… just a little food… good deeds bring good fortune…”

Brian stared at the ground, muttering the same words over and over.

A stranger dropped a ten-dollar bill.

Margaret scrambled to pick it up, thanking them repeatedly.

Brian suddenly snapped. He lunged, snatched the bill, and tore it into pieces.

“I don’t want filthy money. I’m rich. I have a big house. My wife is the Hartwell heiress…”

Smack!

Margaret slapped him hard across the face.

“You mad fool! Rip up our money and what will we eat? Do you want us to starve?”

Stunned, Brian curled into himself and began to sob uncontrollably.

“Mom… I’m hungry… I want clam chowder… I want Elowen’s noodles…”

“All you ever think about is your stomach, you useless man!” Margaret shook with rage, pointing at him as

she cursed.

“If you hadn’t insisted on testing her with that hundred bucks for fish and shrimp, would we have ended up

like this?”

Half crying, half screaming, she dropped to her knees and began picking up the scraps of paper, piece by

piece.

Her cloudy tears hit the filthy ground.

I watched quietly. I didn’t feel hatred. I didn’t feel anything. They weren’t worth it.

“Ms. Hart, the car is here.”

My assistant’s voice pulled me back.

I turned and walked toward the black Bentley waiting at the curb.

I opened the door.

Brian jerked his head up, eyes locked onto me.

“Elowen… Elowen!” He struggled, dragging himself across the pavement with one leg and both hands, filthy

and desperate. “Honey. I was wrong. Take me home. I’ll listen to you, I swear!”

Margaret had seen me, too.

I slid into the warmth of the car.

The noise behind me was sealed out as the door shut.

“Let’s go.”

The car moved smoothly, leaving the two pathetic figures behind.

We passed a small pasta shop, steam spilling into the winter air.

I thought of the plain boiled pasta from five years ago.

That slap across my face, the humiliation of a hundred bucks.

It had been my rebirth.

Outside the car window, sunlight bathed the city, and modern skyscrapers stood tall against the sky.

A faint smile touched the corner of my lips.