Chapter 34: A Good Deal

Chapter 34: A Good Deal
Renee’s POV
I was halfway between flipping a pancake and reaching for the sugar jar when the kitchen door burst open.
“Ma’am.”
I turned, spatula still in hand. “Good morning,” I said gently.
The head maid froze where she stood, eyes darting between the stove, the counter, and the stack of plates already waiting. “Ma’am, you didn’t have to…”
I smiled. “I know. But I wanted to.”
Her shoulders eased a little, though worry still lingered in her eyes. I set the spatula down and wiped my hands on the apron tied snugly around my waist. “How is your son?” I asked softly. “You mentioned the hospital ran more tests.”
Her lips trembled before they curved into a grateful smile. “He’s better. Much better. The specialist you helped me afford… they caught it early.” Her voice cracked. “Thank you, ma’am. Truly. That money…it saved him.”
I reached for her hands before she could bow or thank me again. “I’m glad he’s getting stronger. That’s all that matters.”
She nodded, eyes shining. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Yes,” I said lightly. “Please go supervise the packing downstairs. I’ve got breakfast covered today.”
She hesitated. “Sir Andrew…”
“I know,” I cut in kindly. “And that’s exactly why.”
She finally smiled, this one softer, warmer. “As you wish, ma’am.” Then she slipped out, closing the door quietly behind her.
I turned back to the stove, heart steady, movements sure. Pancakes stacked perfectly. Eggs resting. Tea steeping just the way Andy liked it—light, fragrant, no bitterness. I was humming without realizing it when my phone vibrated inside the apron pocket.
I glanced down.
Dad.
My smile came instantly.
“Good morning,” I answered, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear as I flipped the last pancake.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” my father replied warmly. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” I said honestly. “Really good.”
He chuckled. “You sound like it. Why did you call me yesterday evening?”
“Hold on one second,” I said. I slid the final pancake onto the plate, turned off the gas, and leaned back against the counter, the kitchen suddenly quiet except for the low hum of the fridge. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“What is it?” he asked.
I exhaled slowly. Once. Twice. Then “I need a favor.”
There it was.
Silence stretched across the line. “Renee…”
“I need you to reinstate Clark Wayne at CrownLakers.”
His reaction was immediate. “Absolutely not.”
“Dad…”
“No,” he snapped. “Do you remember what that man did to you? The trauma? The hospital? The years it took to put yourself back together?”
“I haven’t forgotten,” I said quietly. “Not for a single day.”
“Then why would you even ask me this?”
“Because this is how it ends,” I replied. “This is how I finish it.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“For my revenge to work,” I continued, voice calm, measured, “Clark needs to believe the doors are opening again. I need him hopeful. Hungry. Greedy.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’m being precise.”
He said nothing.
“I need you to lift his suspension quietly,” I went on. “Make the scandal disappear. And then”…I swallowed…“make me Director at CrownLakers.”
“Renee…”
“Listen to me,” I pressed. “Clark worships success. He believes proximity to power equals protection. If I’m positioned above him, if he thinks I’m his way back to relevance, he’ll come closer on his own. And when he does… Sarah will tear him apart from the inside.”
“That’s cruel,” my father said.
“So was leaving me to burn in a restaurant,” I replied softly.
The silence that followed was heavy. Thoughtful.
Finally, he asked, “Does Andrew know about this?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “Everything.”
Another exhale. Then…“I don’t like it.”
“I didn’t ask you to like it.”
“But I’ll do it,” he said at last. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You be careful,” he warned. “And the moment this costs you your peace…you walk away.”
Relief surged through me. “Thank you, Dad.”
“I’m not doing this for revenge,” he added. “I’m doing this so you can finally let go.”
I smiled. “I know.”
Just then, footsteps echoed behind me.
Andy appeared in the doorway, already dressed, jacket on, travel bag rolling behind him. “Why do you look so happy?” he asked.
I laughed. “Dad, Andy’s here.”
“Put him on,” my father demanded immediately.
I handed the phone over and turned back to plating breakfast while they talked. I didn’t listen. I didn’t need to. When Andy returned the phone, his expression was calm, approving.
Breakfast passed in warmth and laughter. He praised every bite, kissed my knuckles, teased me about spoiling him.
Then his alarm chimed.
He stood, pulled me into his arms. “Take care of yourself,” he murmured. “I’ll call you.”
“I’ll be here,” I said, watching him leave.
The door had barely closed when my phone rang again.
Lydia.
I answered. “What’s wrong?”
“Sarah just showed up,” she said urgently.
My heart skipped. “What?”