Cordelia stepped out of the room, a puzzled look on her face as she asked Callum, “Who were you talking to?”
“I was chatting with Grandma Whitney,” Callum replied with a shrug.
Cordelia had her doubts, but she decided to let it go without pressing further.
That evening, Cordelia arrived at the theater a bit late; the movie had already started. The place wasn’t crowded, but she still carefully avoided taking just any seat, wary of sitting in someone else's spot. As she settled into her seat in the dim light, a soft voice whispered next to her, “You made it?”
Her heart skipped a beat. How on earth did he get here?
Callum, brimming with joy, called out, "Dad!" and snuggled next to Ronan to watch the film.
Piecing together the events of the day, Cordelia could guess how Ronan had managed to show up – father and son had plotted together, setting a trap for her to fall into.
“Still mad?” Ronan’s voice broke through her thoughts as he captured her hand in his, holding on tight despite her attempts to wriggle free.
“Feeling anxious?” he teased, pressing her hand against his chest.
Ronan always had a way of provoking her with words that seemed understated but were actually quite blunt.
Anxious? She didn’t feel anxious.
“What, happy to have another kid to share the inheritance? You think I want my hard-earned money ending up in his hands?” Ronan questioned.
“Is the inheritance that important?” Cordelia growled, her voice catching in her throat.
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