Worth More Than Money (Worth It 3)

He winced at my words, like I’d slapped him across the face.

“I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back. And if you attempt to stop me, I’ll have you arrested. And if you come after me with your lawyers, I’ll come after you with more. It takes more than money and power and seduction to be a parent, Gray. And I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of trusting you and having my soul crushed. I’m tired of the lies and the smokescreens and the unspoken truths and the stolen moments of passion that seem to convince my mind that, for a single moment, a man like you could love a woman like me.”

His eyes whipped up to mine as his fists clenched at his sides.

“You can’t leave,” he said. “Not until you listen to what I have to say!”

“I can, and I am. You aren’t going to tell me what to do any longer, Gray. I’ll be damned if you’re going to take this child from me, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you break my heart again.”

Then I stormed past him, wrenching my wrist out of his grasp as I made my way for the front door. Tears flooded my eyes, but I

refused to cry them any longer. I refused to let that man have any more of my emotions. My world crumbled around me with every step I took, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was powerless to stop it, and I hated that feeling. I hated feeling as if nothing was in my control. I hated knowing that, yet again, I’d opened myself up to the idea of a beautiful life in this world, but had been rejected from the application process again.

My child was worthy of it, but apparently I wasn’t.

But that didn’t mean I had to stick around for any more abuse. For any more of the mind games. Or any more sleepless nights wondering what would become of all this.

Because I finally knew the answer, and I wanted no part of it for myself—or my child.

Chapter 25

Grayson

She wrenched her wrist out of my hand and stormed out of the office. Like lightning, she made her way down the stairs. Holy hell, Michelle was serious. She was about to walk out on me, and this time it wouldn’t be possible to coax her back. Her muscles twitched with anger as I looked down at the papers at my feet. So much had changed and I had been so busy working and planning the perfect night for us to dedicate ourselves to one another that I’d forgotten to call my fucking lawyer.

Damn it!

I felt like a complete asshole. I’d gone about all of this the wrong way. But how in the world would I convince Michelle to listen to me? The only way I could think to do that was to be honest with her. Be open with her. To finally explain to her the one story I’d never told anyone in full. I kept my past close to my chest for a reason. It hurt to talk about it. It hurt to relive it. But the biggest pain of all was the thought of what came after. Would she be disgusted with me? With the life I’d led as a child? Would she want someone as damaged and broken as me once she found out how deep those scars went?

It was the only shot I had at getting her to stay, so I couldn’t afford to stand there and debate any longer.

“My mom left when I was a boy!” I exclaimed.

I listened out for Michelle’s footsteps, but I heard none.

“She came and she went constantly because of my drunken father, but one day I woke up and she was gone for real. Tired of his shit. But she left me behind to deal with it,” I said.

I turned around and walked to the balcony, praying and hoping I wasn’t shouting into the void of my lonely, cavernous mansion. I walked up to the railing and peered over, watching Michelle as she stood at the front door. Her hand was on the doorknob and her back was turned to me, but she wasn’t moving.

She wasn’t turning the knob to leave.

“My father beat me black and blue most days,” I said. “Whenever the urge arose, or whenever he couldn’t handle his life any longer. He drank up the little bit of money he got from disability and social security, so I had to learn how to fend for myself.”

Michelle’s hand dropped from the doorknob and a bit of relief filled my stomach.

“I learned how to make fires in the backyard to keep myself warm, whenever the fire inside went out. I learned how to determine whether or not roadkill was safe to eat whenever we ran out of food. I learned how to make meals out of uncooked Ramen noodles and ketchup to try and fill my stomach whenever the dirt in the backyard started to look appetizing.”

Michelle’s bag dropped from her shoulder as my heart soared in my chest.

“As a result of all that, I was a sullen child. An angry child. A bully who didn’t give a shit about who I hurt because no one cared about the fact that I was being hurt. My teachers saw me walk in with black eyes, bandages on my arms and bruises everywhere, but no one reported my father. No one batted an eye. No one pulled me aside to ask me what the fuck was going on in my home.”

“Until Anton.”

The sound of her voice filled the living room as she turned around to look at me. My Michelle, with emerald eyes that sparkled even in her sadness. My Michelle, whose body held the one thing I knew was more precious than anything on this earth.

I started for the stairs and walked down them, taking great care in approaching her so as to not spook her.

“He took me in the summer before my senior year of high school and completely changed my life. My worldview. My diet. Everything. That old man showed me what it meant to be a father. What it meant to be a good man. And because of him, I was able to go to college. I was able to play football. I was able to carve out a life for myself in the NFL and build the life I have now.”