Page 47 of Billion Dollar Dispute

He winces. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

“Just a bit insensitive,” Molly adds, scrunching up her nose.

“I just meant I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t see potential. My office is running without me,” Harvey says.

“What’s your job?” Molly asks.

“I own Lincoln Acquisitions and soon to be Consultations,” he answers.

Molly whistles. “Dayum.”

“With all of us working together, we have a very good chance,” Harvey adds.

“Agree,” Molly says.

I remain quiet, returning to my sandwich. This is why I refuse to have him help me personally. I’ll accept his help here, in this office, because that makes his presence temporary.

Even though I was close to giving him the finances, I decided against it. After what my ex-husband did, I vowed to never let another man handle my finances. I’ll learn it myself. Sharing the work has been such a relief, and honestly, I wish I had thought of it so much sooner.

I finish my sandwich as Molly hands over a coffee she made me. Harvey grabs something from the fridge and brings it to the table.

He takes out a lemon meringue pie.

“Did you make this?” Molly exclaims, taking the words right out of my mouth.

“No. My grams did,” he says, looking directly at me.

“Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have her make the cake to win,” I say.

“I wouldn’t.”

My stomach grumbles at the sight. I haven’t had a homemade pie since my mom used to bake when I was little. Once my parents took over the business, it consumed them.

He cuts six pieces.

“You cut too many pieces.”

“One for Chad and one for Hugo.”

I freeze momentarily. I can’t refuse just because I don’t like handouts. Food is one area where I’m struggling, and I know he’s aware of that. Yet his gesture doesn’t seem like an afterthought or out of sympathy. It’s more caring, which sends a tremor through me.

He’s more dangerous than I thought. He’s hitting me where I’m weak.

I’ve got to be stronger.

Harvey sets the pie down, and we waste no time eating it… or should I say, inhaling it.

“This is so good,” I say between bites.

“Yeah, Grams makes the best pies,” Harvey replies, his voice sounding low and heavy.

I look up and notice his expression changes to something… darker. “Everything, okay?”

He hesitates, then sighs. “She has breast cancer.”

The words hang in the air, and I pause, the fork halfway to my mouth. “Harvey… I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks, it’s been really hard to see her go through treatment.” He takes a breath. “She hates how everyone’s treating her like she’s sick or fragile. She’s stubborn. Won’t let anyone help her, insists on doing everything herself.”

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