Chapter 29 The Billionaire Divorcee
"Mindy, apologize." Bronte's voice cracked like a whip.
Mindy met Bronte's glare with defiance. She hadn't said anything wrong, and she wasn't about to pretend otherwise.
Beatrix knew Mindy too well. She tightened her grip on Mindy's hand, her tone low but sharp. "Apologize to Mr. Robinson."
"Not to me. To Elizabeth." Timothy's icy aura shifted, his voice suddenly calm, almost casual.
Bronte forced a bitter smile. "Mindy's young. Mr. Robinson, I'm sorry you had to witness this."
Upstairs, in the study, Armando's gaze was hard. "Elizabeth, Timothy is dangerous. You'd better keep your distance. He's not as easygoing as you think."
Elizabeth's expression didn't change. "That's my business, Mr. Johnson. Now... can our six-month contract be voided?"
Armando pressed his fingers to his brow. "Voided."
She turned to leave, but his hand closed around her wrist.
"Something else?" Her brows drew tight. "Mr. Johnson, let go. Show some respect. Don't grab me—it's crude."
Seeing the disdain in her eyes, he released her. "I'm serious. Timothy is trouble."
"Dangerous or not..." Elizabeth's lips curved faintly. "He treats me well for now."
She opened the study door and stepped out. That was how she was—show her kindness, and she'd return it tenfold.
Downstairs, Timothy looked up.
Their eyes met.
Elizabeth looked away first.
Mindy muttered an unwilling apology.
Elizabeth's face remained composed. She didn't know why Mindy had suddenly apologized, but she suspected Timothy's hand in it. She accepted it without hesitation. During her two-year marriage to Armando, Mindy had made her life difficult more than once.
The lawyer arrived. Elizabeth returned the shares to Bronte without hesitation.
Only then did she learn the Johnson family would cash out her shares based on the current market value of the Johnson Group.
Timothy's voice was lazy, almost amused. "If the Johnson family gives you money, take it. No one complains about having too much. People who do are fools."
To the Johnsons, the sum was nothing.
Elizabeth had no intention of being the fool in Timothy's eyes. "I understand."
Just like that, she was a divorced woman worth ten billion dollars. The shift was dizzying.
Timothy's backing felt like steel at her spine.
Sherry's envy burned hot enough to taste.
Still... Timothy looked familiar.
She studied him, trying to place where she'd seen him before.
When the lawyer left Emerald Park, Timothy feigned ignorance about the divorce papers. His tone was almost playful. "You two should make it official now. And you—Ms. Scott—why not go with Armando and get your marriage license while you're at it?"
Sherry froze. Elizabeth had said something similar once, outside the marriage registry.
The suggestion was perfect for Elizabeth—just for show, but the divorce certificate would be public.
Leaving the registry again, Elizabeth's mood soared. She slid into the car, her smile bright as sunlight.
Timothy arched a brow, long fingers resting on the wheel. "What's so funny? You look like you just won something."
Elizabeth propped her chin in her hand, eyes on him. "You know exactly why I'm smiling... and you're outrageously handsome today."
Across the street, Armando watched her get into Timothy's car. His brow tightened.
Sherry tugged at his sleeve. "Armando."
"Get in the car," he said flatly.
She heard the edge in his voice and obeyed, swallowing her tears. Staring out the window, she murmured, "I didn't mean to hide the pregnancy. I didn't want the child... the stigma of a bastard isn't easy."
"I'm not angry," Armando said. "I asked Tom to reach out to Yvonne, the composer. You wanted her to write songs for your album."
Sherry's eyes shimmered. "Really?"
She'd only mentioned it in passing. She hadn't thought he'd remember.
Armando pulled a tissue and dabbed her tears. "Really."
Yvonne was a mystery. No one had ever seen her face, yet every song she wrote became a hit.
Sherry's return to the country was all about building her name. If she could buy one of Yvonne's songs, her popularity would skyrocket.
In the front seat, Tom turned. "Mr. Johnson, Yvonne emailed last night. She's not composing for now."
"Offer her more," Armando replied.
Tom nodded. "Also, Ms. Penrose has resigned."
Armando paused. "Find another secretary."
Sherry's expression shifted. She remembered where she'd seen Timothy—on that hotel video.
Timothy was the man in it.
Armando noticed her change. "Sherry, are you feeling unwell? Should we go to the hospital?"
"No." She forced a smile. "Just a bit stuffy. Probably nerves."
"If you do feel bad, we'll go."
His concern warmed her.
Feigning curiosity, she asked, "Armando, who exactly is Mr. Robinson?"
Armando thought of Elizabeth's stubbornness. "Don't ask about him."
She nodded, but unease prickled under her skin. The hotel incident had been cleaned up well; there shouldn't be any fallout. She'd intended to use the video against Elizabeth, but now... not yet.
It hit her—she might have indirectly introduced Elizabeth to Timothy. Regret twisted in her gut.
Today was a victory for Elizabeth.
She waved a hand, offering to take Timothy to a barbecue to thank him.
One look at his tailored suit and polished shoes told her he didn't belong in a barbecue joint.
At a red light, Timothy smirked. "Ten billion dollars to your name, and you're taking me to barbecue?"
Elizabeth laughed, ignoring his teasing. "You in a suit like that don't belong there. I'll go alone."
Her words made him laugh—low and sharp.
When the light turned green, he pulled over to the curb.
"There's another way."
He shrugged off his black jacket, tossing it into the back seat. His fingers worked at his tie, slow and deliberate, before it joined the jacket. The top buttons of his white shirt came undone, revealing the lines of his chest.
His gaze cut to her, sleeves rolling up in practiced ease.
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
She'd closed her eyes when he'd undone his shirt.
"Open your eyes. If you don't, I won't be gentle."
His voice was lazy, but the heat in it curled around her.
Elizabeth felt the warmth of him close, her eyes flicking to the arm braced against the car door beside her.
"Why so tense?"
Timothy drew a deliberate breath before asking, "Do I look barbecue-ready now?"
She realized he'd been playing her all along.