Page 77 of Repluse

I nod just as my phone vibrates. Sam quickly swipes it away from in front of Frankie.

“Excuse me.” I hold my hand out for my phone while staring at Sam. “Rude.”

“It’s Logan throwing an absolute tanty,” Sam tells me. “But you don’t need to worry about that right now.”

“I don’t? But I want to talk to him. I want to hear his melt down. I’m actually sad I can’t see it.”

“You can later,” Frankie says with a small smile.

“What? I can? How? Where?”

“We’ve arranged a meeting. Our legal team has put together a team of divorce lawyers, and we’ve paid them an exorbitant amount of money to meet with you and Logan in about…”—he looks at his watch for effect—“two hours. So, eat your breakfast, lunch, brunch, whatever, then shower and get dressed. We’ll explain everything in the car on the way over.”

Being the girl that I am, my first response is, “I’ve got nothing to wear.”

“Yes, you do. I’ve had everything you bought Friday brought here.”

“Shall I wear the dress?” I grin, feeling positively evil. “Will you be with me? Do you have a tux you can wear?” I look between them both as I fork mouthfuls of scrambled egg into my mouth. “Let’s go out of our way andreallypiss him off.”

I countsixteen jaws drop as we walk into the large office on the fifty-second floor of the most prestigious building on Collins Street. One belongs to Logan, one, his dad. Four more are from the team he has sitting with him, and the final ten are the three men and seven women sitting on the other side of the large, boardroom-style table, who I hope are members of my new legal team.

I’d taken as much care with my hair and makeup as I possibly could while wearing my cast this morning, but I also went to great lengths not to cover up the now-yellow bruising to the side of my face, eye, and temple. Though none of that was jaw dropping. It was the fact I walked in wearing my brand new, beautifully beaded evening dress we bought last Friday, while holding onto the arms of Sam and Frankie, who, as we so meticulously planned earlier, were each wearing a black tux.

Both Logan and Scott’s chairs fall to the engineered timber hardwood flooring with a thud the moment we enter. The sight of them makes me smile.

“Oops,” I say with a shrug.

“You whore. You fucking whore. And you! I knew I never should’ve trusted you, you fucking dog,” Logan spits out.

“Mr Walsh!” one of the women, who I note has very big, very obviously unnaturally dark hair, and very red lips, stands and barks. “May I remind you that the minutes of this meeting are being recorded and will be presented to a judge in a court of law if matters are not resolved to our clients liking today.”

I give them another sickly-sweet grin, a shrug, then let Sam and Frankie lead me to a chair, which Frankie makes a show of pulling out for me, before making a sweeping gesture with his arm for me to sit as he and Sam bend at the waist.

I want to cackle with laughter. Instead, I avoid making eye contact with my escorts and get comfortable.

The dark-haired woman speaks again. “For the record, my name is Giulia Conti, and I’ll be chairing this mediation. Mr Jaimeson, would you like to start?”

Mr Jaimeson then stands from where he was sitting next to Scott and bangs on about the prenup and contract I signed, agreeing to pay back Walsh Holdings the costs, in full, of my mum’s care.

At the end of his spiel, Giulia leans back in her chair, taps her pen on the table, and stares between Logan and Scott before letting out a long and somehow loaded sigh.

“Ms Barton, would you please show in Mr Porter?” she says to the younger woman sitting at the end of the table, who’s been tapping furiously on her laptop since we walked in.

Frankie and Sam reach for my hands. I grip them so tightly, it’s painful. Sam rests his free hand on my bouncing knee, so I switch to bouncing the other, then both as my stomach knots, and my heart beats so loudly, I swear the entire room can hear it.

I don’t know where to look. I want to catch my first glimpse of Zachary Porter, but I also want to see Logan and Scott’s reactions. I stare at the door Ms Barton left through, then my eyes are on him. He’s tall and blond. His eyes dart around the room until they land on me, then he smiles, and my eyes instantly fill with tears.

“Mr Walsh… Logan,” Giulia says, “Mila, I’d like you to meet your brother Zach.”

Logan frowns.

Scott slumps back in his seat.

“Whose brother?” Logan demands, his eyes wide with panic as he starts to work things out. “Whose fucking brother? I don’t have a brother. What has this got to do with…?”

“Mr Walsh… Scott, would you like to explain?”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You cunt! How fucking dare you? I will make sure you never fucking work in this city again,” Scott roars.

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