Chapter 7: Roster

Mason

The dull, throbbing pain in my left cheek was a loud, constant reminder of the humiliation she'd handed me in that cramped apartment hallway.

A slap. In front of state officers. In front of her mother.

She really thought she'd won something tonight. She had no idea the amount of money I had to throw around, the palms I had to grease, just to force the administrative department to pull her mother's archived records on such short notice. I'd burned favours and invoked emergency state protocols just to track her down, and she had the nerve to act like the victim?

I looked from her face down to the glowing screen, curious about what other tricks she had up her sleeves.

I narrowed my eyes at the colour-coded spreadsheet.

"What is this?" I asked, my brow furrowing as my eyes scanned the top header.

"Your favourite thing," Catherine replied, her voice eerily calm. "A contract. Specifically, the Household and Familial Operations Roster."

I scoffed, picking up the device with two fingers. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Go through it, Mason. You wanted 50/50. It's exactly what you want. I know you'll love it."

The sarcasm wasn't lost on me as my eyes took in the letters on the page, forming words that made absolutely no sense.

- Shared Living Spaces (Living Area, Kitchen, Guest Room, and Bathroom): Rotational deep cleaning. Week A: Catherine. Week B: Mason.

- Private Quarters (Study, Home Gym, Bedroom): Sole occupant responsibility. No overlap.

- Children (School drop-offs, meal prep, homework supervision, bedtime routines, room clean-up, recreation—in short, everything involving the kids): Alternating daily shifts. Monday/Wednesday/Friday: Catherine. Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday: Mason. Sundays: Rotational.

- Outsourcing Clause: Any party unable to fulfil their assigned shift due to unforeseen circumstances may hire third-party services or trade shifts, provided notice is given 12 hours in advance.

The sheer absurdity of it hit me all at once. I looked up at her, waiting for the crack in her expression, waiting for her to break character and admit this was just another desperate play to get my attention.

"You're insane," I said, setting the tablet down with a heavy thud. "You want me—the CEO of L&T Group—to follow a household cleaning schedule?"

"You wanted fairness," Catherine said, her eyes fixed on mine, unblinking.

"This is craziness!"

"This is what I've done for the past six years without a single complaint, Mason," she countered instantly.

"And I paid you five million for it!" I snapped back, bolting up from my seat.

"Exactly. You've bought off your share of the past six years. Now it's time to get back on track. How it should have been all along. Fifty-fifty. Exactly half. Not a penny less, not an hour less."

"And if I refuse?" I leaned across the counter, letting the full weight of my authority press into the space between us. "What if I walk out of here right now and ignore this childish little spreadsheet?"

"Then the house stays dirty," she said simply. "Your gym will collect dust. Your laundry will sit in the basket until it rots. Your breakfast won't be made. And when Tuesday comes, if you aren't downstairs at 7:00 a.m. to pack Ethan and Mara's lunches, they will go to school hungry, and I will make sure the family court judge knows exactly why."

My breath hitched. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

The silence in the kitchen stretched so thin even a pin could have broken it.

"You think you're backing me into a corner," I said slowly, forcing a dark chuckle as I leaned away from her. "You think I can't handle a simple schedule? I manage ten thousand employees across three continents, Catherine. You think packing lunchboxes and getting the kids dressed is going to break me?"

"I don't care if you can handle it or not, Mason," she said, leaning in just close enough for me to see the cold finality in her eyes. "As long as we both keep to our share of 50/50."

She reached out, retrieved her tablet, and turned toward her room.

"Welcome to your version of a fair marriage, Mr. Blake," she called back over her shoulder, her heels clicking softly against the wood. "Your shift starts on Tuesday."