Beauty and the Boss (Modern Fairytales 1)

She sighed. “Figured that out, did you? I’m not surprised. You always were a bright boy, when you chose to apply yourself. You simply chose not to.”

“Yeah. I did.” Benjamin blinked. “Why did you do this?”

“She had to think you were poor and couldn’t help her. And you had to believe you were poor, too, or she wouldn’t buy it, and you wouldn’t have let her go. You gave me the idea when you started poking around in the financials. So, the credit truly goes to you. I dug out those old papers, handed them off, and the rest just fell into place. It was perfect, really.” Her smile widened. “You’re not a pauper after all. You don’t need to marry Elizabeth—though I still wish you would—and that backwoods gold digger is out of our lives once and for all. I won.”

Rage—so much fucking rage—blinded him. And he let it.

Lifting a trembling hand, he pointed to the door. “Get out.”

“All right. I have dinner plans anyway.” His mother stood, staring him down. “Be angry all you want, but you’ll thank me later, when you meet a proper woman and realize I saved you from the biggest mistake of your life.”

No, she hadn’t, because he didn’t believe a word she said. Maggie wouldn’t have taken a bribe. “What was your biggest mistake? Having me?”

“Close enough.” His mother hesitated. “Pretending you were mine.”

“What?” he asked, the world ceasing to exist around him. She’d just said— “Are you saying I’m not your son?”

“Of course you’re not. Your father slept with his secretary a year after we got married, and got her pregnant.” His mother spat it out, anger radiating off her in waves. “Not wanting to face the shame, I helped him cover it up—and buy her off. I went on a European tour, and came back with a baby. With you. And I’ve hated you ever since.”

His heart pounded loudly, echoing in his head. “I’m not your son?”

“You’re not.”

Suddenly, it all made sense.

Her hatred. Her preference for Andrew. The way she treated him. It all fell into place, and instead of being upset she wasn’t his real mother, he felt…

Free. Absolutely, one hundred percent, free.

“Where’s my real mother?”

“Dead.” She hugged herself. “Has been since you were five.”

He rubbed his jaw and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Wh—?” She blinked at him, clearly taken aback. “For what?”

“The truth. I feel a lot better about you hating me now, and even understand why.” He inclined his head toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

She started for the exit. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel better,” she snapped.

Refusing to give her the satisfaction of an answer, he gritted his teeth until she left. Once she did, he picked up the phone, and dialed Maggie’s number again. She still didn’t answer. He hung up and kicked his desk. “Son of a bitch.”

He scowled out into the empty office, toward her desk—until he saw the glinting item on top of it. Storming out of his office, he headed straight for the gleaming object.

The ring. She’d left him the ring.

A gold digger wouldn’t do that.

As he knew all along, his mother’s story was just that. An elaborate story meant to make him despise Maggie. She wasn’t who his mother said she was. She hadn’t betrayed him. She might have been trying to save her parents’ farm, but she hadn’t pretended she cared about him just to get her hands on his money.

He couldn’t believe that. Wouldn’t.

And he never should have let her go.

Dialing again, he waited for voicemail to pick up. It did. Once her message ended, the phone beeped, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t believe you took the money as a bribe, so you have to tell me I’m right. Call me back and tell me you didn’t use me to save your farm. Tell me.”

Met with silence—obviously—he hung up and left the office.