Hildegarde barely glanced at him. Her voice was cool and detached. "Wilfred, if you walk out that door today, don't think you can come back so easily."
"Don't worry, Hildegarde. I won't be coming back."
"From here on out, our paths won't cross again."
——
For the twins' birthday banquet, Hildegarde had invited nearly every prominent figure in Cloudhaven's business circles.
At the head table, Hilary Pruitt clung to Patrick Lyons's arm, calling him "Daddy Patrick" with sugary affection.
Patrick smiled and lifted the five-year-old onto his lap, planting a kiss on her chubby cheek. Then he turned to look at Wilfred, who stood off to the side like hired help, and smirked.
"Now, Hilary, that's not quite right. Wilfred is your real father. When there are people around, you should call me Uncle Patrick. When we're alone, then you can call me Daddy Patrick."
Laughter rippled through the banquet hall.
All eyes turned to Wilfred, glinting with amusement.
Hildegarde spared him a single glance, her gaze as cold as frost. "Wilfred, what are you standing there for?"
"Patrick said he wanted those butter tarts you make. Why haven't you brought them out yet?"