Chapter 3: You Won’t Divorce You

While Zia watched arity, I maintained my composure and casually asked, “Fresh out of college, no job, and an empty bank account. Yet, you’re at a restaurant that costs 1000 dollars per person?”

“Four people, that’s over a thousand. Where did that money come from, Jackson? Let me guess—you stole it from my dad.”

The atmosphere shifted instantly as everyone’s perception of Jackson changed.

“Don’t make wild accusations!” Jackson protested defensively. “This is an allowance from my mom. You grew up without a mother, so you might not understand these privileges, but some…”

The mention of my mother ignited a cold fury inside me. Normally, I could brush off most comments, but when it came from Jackson—or anyone in his family—it felt like poison in my veins.

“Your mom’s wealthy because she’s been someone’s mistress for twenty years. The money and designer bags from her sugar daddy—my mom couldn’t earn that in a lifetime.”

“The legitimate wife’s suffering keeps the mistress living luxuriously, and the mistress’s son throwing money around like a big shot,” I said icily.

Jackson’s face contorted with rage. “My mom and Uncle William are in love. She’s not a mistress!”

I smirked and replied, “Interesting how I didn’t mention any names, yet you knew exactly who I meant.”

Confused and agitated, Jackson turned to his friends and shouted, “Are you just going to stand there while he insults me? Teach him a lesson!!!”

His so-called friends exchanged awkward looks and mumbled excuses before scattering, leaving Jackson alone.

“Useless cowards!” Jackson stomped his foot before lunging at me with his fist. As I prepared to block, someone caught his arm mid-swing. “Stop! How dare you disrespect Mr. Yates!” Zia’s voice rang out firmly.

Jackson struggled against her grip, shouting, “Let go of me, you gold-digger! I can tell by your cheap clothes you’re nothing but trouble!”

Though Zia paled at his words, her resolve only strengthened. I remembered that Randall’s girlfriend came from modest means, and Jackson had struck a nerve.

Before things escalated further, I played my trump card—the recording. “My mom and Uncle William are in love. She’s not a mistress!”

Jackson’s voice choked, followed by my calculated response.

“I never said your mom was a mistress,” came Jackson’s sneering reply. “Looks like you just gave yourself away!”

Jackson’s face drained of color as he heard himself. “Owen, that’s a dirty trick! How could you record me?” he bellowed.

I chuckled and shrugged. “I never claimed to be a saint. Listen carefully, Jackson—your mom’s been hiding this for years, and there’s a reason. Imagine what would happen if this recording reached my dad.”

As Jackson seethed, I pressed my advantage. “Here are your options: One, I send this to your mom, my dad, and all the board members—you can imagine the fallout; or two, apologize to both Zia and me!”

Zia looked stunned at my defense of her, while Jackson’s eyes blazed with fury. “Are you threatening me?”

I smiled knowingly and replied, “Obviously—and if you need that explained, it really shows how dumb you really are. If you don’t choose, I’ll pick option one for you.”

As I reached for my phone, Jackson grabbed my arm in panic. “Wait! Stop! Apologize, okay?!”

I shrugged off his grip and crossed my arms. “Go ahead then, apologize.”

Feeling humiliated, Jackson muttered reluctantly, “Sorry for what I said about you both.”

I pretended not to hear and turned to Zia, asking, “Did you hear that?”

She played along and shook her head. Seeing his weak attempt fail, Jackson raised his voice. “I’m sorry! I really shouldn’t have said those things. I was wrong!”

“Oh dear,” I mused, “with all these birds chirping outside and the plane in here, I can barely hear your apology. Maybe I should—”

Before I could finish, Jackson desperately shouted, “Owen, Ms. Zia, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have made false accusations or looked down on her because of her background. I was completely wrong. Please forgive me!”

His outburst silenced the entire restaurant as all heads turned our way. Jackson’s face turned red, his eyes blazing, and hands trembling with rage. It was exactly the reaction I had wanted. “Get out of my sight,” I dismissed him casually, and he bolted away. Turning to Zia, I patted her shoulder reassuringly and said, “Don’t take that jerk’s words to heart.”

Zia looked at me with admiration and gratitude shining in her eyes. “Mr. Yates, thank you so much. No one’s ever stood up for me like that before. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

I smiled, waving off her thanks. “Don’t mention it. You got caught in my drama. Just call me Owen—Mr. Yates sounds too formal.”

Her face lit up with a bright smile as she sweetly called out, “Owen.”

Our food arrived. I looked around for Nancy. When I couldn’t find her, I reached for my phone to text her.

Just then, Fla’s clear voice broke through my thoughts. “Owen, is it true you’re married? That guy mentioned your wife is a famous Manning.” Which Ms. Jennings was he referring to? While texting Nancy, I casually replied, “She’s pretty well-known, but we’re getting divorced. Let’s change the subject, as I’d rather not discuss her.”

Zia’s expression showed surprise at my complicated life. In response, I just shook my head silently.

She would soon learn that my soon-to-be ex-wife, Yvette, was the cold-hearted woman who would try to steal her boyfriend. As for Zia’s situation, I couldn’t help much. After all, I had spent years in a battle with Yvette and hadn’t come out on top. What could I do to help Zia? She would have to face her own storm.

I was still mulling this over when Nancy strolled back to the table, her trademark carefree grin plastered across her face. She commented, “Owen, I saw how you humiliated that guy—his apology echoed throughout the restaurant. Soooo!”

She chuckled softly as she continued, “You’ve transformed from a sad-sack into this sexy boss energy. Yet, you like this; she’d never want that divorce—”