REVENGE, DIAPER and SNACKS - Chapter 40: Chapter 40

Just stared.
I dropped the diaper bag with a soft thud, grabbed the extra chair with one foot, and settled into the seat like a woman with nothing to prove and everything to hide.
“You look like hell,” Alec said finally, lips curled in something that almost passed for amusement.
“Thanks. It’s my new scent—Eau de Breast Milk and Cookie Crumbs.”
One of the toddlers squealed in the background. Something broke—probably a ceramic plate. The barista gasped. I didn’t even flinch.
He stared at the children. “They’re yours.”
“Congratulations, you can count.”
“And Ray’s.”
I let my eyes roll lazily toward him. “You bring him up like he matters.”
Alec tilted his head. I could see him trying to read me, dig through the layers—peel back. But I was better. Always had been.
“Ray, your husband. He gambled away everything,” he said. “Then you won it all back. Funny how that worked out.”
I smiled like I was tired of life. Like I was just a woman barely holding it together. “You know what’s funnier? I thought being a good wife meant standing by him. Turns out, it just meant standing in quicksand.”
His jaw clenched.
I had him.
He was curious. He wasn’t here just to confirm suspicions. He wanted to know how I did it. How I played him. How I rigged the table right under his smug nose. How I knew the drop points, the inside dealers, the weaknesses he thought were buried.
But I wasn’t giving him anything. Not yet.
Instead, I sipped my coffee and leaned in just a little. “You ever feel like you’re with the wrong person, Alec?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You trying to flirt with me now?”
I gave him a tired laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just want to remember what it feels like to sit across a man who actually uses his brain.”
Aliya threw a sugar packet at Maya. The baby burped like a monster. A cup of orange juice tipped over and started dripping off the edge of the table.
Alec ignored the mess like it didn’t exist. His focus was locked on me. Unblinking.
“You’re not what you seem.”
“Neither are you.”
He hesitated. Then: “I know someone’s bleeding me dry. The Dubai shipment. The missing funds. The winning tables. You know something?”
I frowned. “I also know how to make homemade baby wipes out of paper towels and aloe vera. Doesn’t mean I know everything that is happening on earth. I couldn't even have a five hour decent sleep let alone a ship in dubai.”
“Hmmm?”
Of course he was prying for information, God. He was desperate.
How naive.
We sat there, staring. My fingers danced around the rim of my mug. His were steepled under his chin, elbows on the table.
He was playing chess.
I was playing poker.
Two games, one board.
Finally, I said with a sigh, “I’m tired, Alec. I’ve got three kids, a husband who keeps chasing dice, and a laundry pile taller than your ego. Maybe I just want someone to talk to.”
He didn’t believe me. Not for a second.
My instincts screamed at me to breathe deeper, to soak up more of him, for me to remember how he betrayed me, but I fought it. I had to stay in control. The tension between us was palpable, thick with unspoken words, yet all I could do was stand there and try not to crumble under his gaze.
But that didn’t stop him from leaning back and relaxing just a little. He liked it. Liked the idea of being the one I confided in. The man who saw through the tired mother act. The man who maybe—just maybe—could win me over.
Let him think it.
Let him want it.
Let him sit across from me every morning until he begged for a glimpse of the woman beneath the chaos. The goddess wrapped in spit-up and cracker crumbs. The mastermind playing him like a cello.
Leon Darrow was dead.
Catherine? She was just a mother in sweatpants.
But whatever I was now—
Alec wanted it.
And he didn’t even know that by sipping coffee with me…
…he’d already lost.
The sun was already beginning to dip behind the London skyline as I loaded the kids into the SUV—Aliya with her chip crumbs, Maya with her sticky fingers clutching an empty candy wrapper, and my baby with that distant, milk-drunk expression. All three were asleep within minutes, mouths open, little heads tilted at odd angles in their car seats. Peaceful. Beautiful.
But me?
I wasn’t peaceful. Not when I caught the glint of a black car in my rearview mirror. Not when it took every same turn I did—two rights, a long detour into the quieter part of the city, and still it followed. Like a shadow with tinted windows.
Alec.
Of course it was him.
I smirked to myself. So the café chat did rattle him. He wasn’t done with me. Not by a long shot. He probably sent one of his men, one of those quiet, sharp-jawed drivers with earpieces and false passports. And if he was watching me, tailing me… then I might as well make the show worth it.
An idea bloomed in my head.
Delicious. Dramatic. Deadly charming.