Page 161 of The Billionaires

“Bye,” I snap angrily and pick up Mom’s call.

She and Dad are both on the other end, making this look suspiciously like a family meeting.

“I was just about to tell you,” I say in lieu of a hello.

“About your live-in job?” Mom asks pointedly.

“Right, that. Everything happened so fast that?—”

“You had time to tell Aphrodite,” Mom says. “And she told the biggest gossip of the family.”

Now isn’t really the time to question who should have that particular title, but here’s a hint: she’s the person most upset she wasn’t the first to know something juicy.

“Tell us about the man who hired you,” Dad demands.

Mom turns to him. “That’s sexist. No one said the rich employer was a man.”

Dad sighs. “Tell us about the person who hired you.”

Okay. I guess this will be like ripping off a Band-Aid. “Bruce Roxford.”

I wince, expecting condemnation, but the expressions on both of their faces are blank.

“He owns that evil bank,” I say.

They look even blanker.

I tell them the actual name of the bank in question. “You know,” I add. “The place where you had your mortgage.”

“Ah,” Mom says.

“That’s good,” Dad says.

Huh? That’s good? “Shouldn’t you be a lot more upset? His bank took your house.”

Mom shrugs. “That was unfortunate, but it wasn’t personal.”

It was for me.

“Besides,” Dad says. “They were actually pretty nice to us, before the eviction at least.”

“An oxymoron,” I say with an eyeroll.

“Young lady,” Mom says sternly. “Don’t call your father names.”

“Dad isn’t the oxymoron. The phrase ‘nice to us before the eviction’ is.”

“But they were nice,” Mom says. “First, they gave us a deferment, then a forbearance.”

I gape at them. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing any of this?”

Mom and Dad exchange glances. Eventually, she says, “Anytime the darn mortgage was mentioned back then, you’d try to give us all your money.”

“And go on rants about how unfair life is,” Dad adds.

I could’ve sworn my rants were about their bank, not life in general, but if that’s how they remember it, who am I to argue?

“So… you’re totally fine with me working for Bruce Roxford?”

---