Chapter 2 Make a Plan

It was 5:30 p.m. Buses and an assortment of vehicles with parents at the wheel filled the road outside Bresenia Bronze Elementary. Anthony parked his car in the temporary parking lot across the road. He got out and looked at the stationery shop.

Timothy usually waited for him there after school.

Anthony froze.

The boy was smiling, but not the polite kind every kid had when they saw their parents picking them up. It was warm, gentle, and affectionate.

His eyes were curved, and his lips were curled. He was beaming. It had been a long time since that boy smiled like that at Anthony.

A man was crouched before the boy.

He had a dark gray jacket and was about 30 years old. The man was holding two boxes of toys. He was smiling as he talked to Timothy, but Anthony was too far away to listen in on the conversation.

Then, he heard Timothy say, "Dad, you promised we'll go to the amusement park next week. No backsies."

Dad. That word rammed into his heart like a sharp blade. The man ruffled Timothy's hair, smiling. "Did your mother say yes?"

Anthony froze.

It felt as if he was petrified. The ground beneath the soles of his shoes was made of concrete, but it felt as soft as mud, and he nearly lost his balance.

The sounds of talking parents, rambunctious kids, and the honks of the cars around him all felt oh-so distant. His eyes were dazed as he watched the man hold Timothy's hand as they walked toward a black Audi Q7 by the road.

The man opened the door, and Timothy climbed in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The car revved up and joined the flow of traffic. Its taillight blinked in the setting sun before turning into a corner and disappearing from his line of sight.

Anthony didn't give chase.

Instead, he still had the presence of mind to make a mental note of the plate number. However, his hands were balled into fists in his pockets with his thumb biting into his index finger until it hurt.

Suspicion was one thing, but having those suspicions confirmed with his own two eyes was another. It was like a line between heaven and hell, and he had just been damned.

…

Anthony returned to his car and sat in silence, fighting the urge to pound the steering wheel and curse.

He didn't know how long it took, but he eventually shoved his fury, hatred, and humiliation aside until his face betrayed none of those emotions.

Only after the crowd had left the school's entrance did he rev his car up. His phone rang. It was Linda. Anthony didn't pick it up, but it rang again. He still didn't answer.

When his phone rang a third time, his patience frayed mid-ring, and he answered.

"Why don't you ever take my calls?" Linda grumbled, but she sounded calm. She sounded as if she hadn't been cheating behind his back. "Tim wants to know what we're having for dinner tonight."

Anthony rolled the car windows down a little, just enough for the wind to blow in. "Anything we have at home."

"Glazed ribs, then. He loves that. I'll be home late. Overtime."

"Got it."

He clenched his steering wheel with his left hand, causing the veins to throb on the back of his hand. He hung up and waited for the green light.

The red light was still splashing against his face when he let out a dry chuckle. It was so soft that he didn't even realize he had made a sound.

Linda was right. Timothy did love glazed ribs.

The boy couldn't stop pigging out on it when he had made it for him. He even claimed that Anthony made better ribs than Linda ever did. It had made him so over the moon that he couldn't sleep that night.

'Goddammit,' Anthony cursed in his head.

Still, he went home and headed into the kitchen, chopping up the ribs as hard as he could. Timothy only bothered to stick his head out of his study when the air was filled with the scent of food.

"Is dinner ready yet, Dad? I'm starving!" he whined.

Anthony didn't reply. He merely grunted.

Dad.

He was reminded of the same thing that boy called that other man. Two fathers. One bought him toys, while the other cooked him ribs. Yet, he now knew that the one slaving away in the kitchen had been the fool all along.

Anthony put the plate down, trudged into the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. The mirror showed his reflection. It showed him his sunken eyes, unshaven stubble, and his worn outdoor jacket.

He didn't look like this seven years ago. Zegna and Burberry were just one of the many branded goods in his wardrobe. He wore Gucci on the daily. He used fancy cologne and wore expensive watches.

He would spend five minutes setting his hair every time before going anywhere.

Anthony stared at the weary man in the mirror. Then, he opened the cabinet, took out a paper bag, took off the brush head from Timothy's electric toothbrush, and swapped in a new one.

He worked slowly, but firmly. Then, he sealed the bag and tucked it into his jacket's inner pocket. He was going to need evidence if he was going to be delivering any judgment.

He was going to pay the DNA test center a visit tomorrow.

Linda came home during dinner.

Timothy clumsily helped her take her bag and gave her slippers.

Anthony never got that kind of treatment. He was serving food as he watched everything in silence.

She noticed something was off with him. She sat down and looked at him. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Anthony popped a rib into his mouth and mumbled vaguely, "Nothing. Just feeling a little forlorn that you won't be here anymore."

Her brow twitched at that. It was barely perceptible, but he noticed it all the same.

"I gave you a choice." She did her best to keep her voice level as she continued, "What you're doing is for the sake of this family. It's for our best interests. Dig in. The food's getting cold."

Anthony said nothing. He didn't throw that sentence out randomly. It was bait, and it worked flawlessly as he saw the momentary panic Linda had let slip.

'What is she so worried about? That I might go back on my decision regarding the divorce? Still… your fear is the perfect morsel for my anger.'

Now that Anthony knew that two billion was going to sit pretty in his bank account, he was aware that he was going to make some very big changes in his life. After all, he never claimed to be a kind soul, let alone a saint.

Linda offered to do the dishes after dinner, which was very out of character for her as she barely entered the kitchen for the past seven years.

He sat on the couch calmly, scrutinizing her.

That woman had gotten into bed with him during his darkest hour and lived a regular life for seven years. He felt no love for her, but he cared for their son. That was why he left them the houses.

Now, he couldn't help but suspect that this had been her ploy from the get-go. After all, she had drafted the papers with those astounding clauses.

The houses would go to her and the boy, while he would continue shouldering all the debt. She would have the boy's custody, but he would still have to pay child support.

He had signed it without hesitation, but now that he had some pieces of the puzzle… Well, he was starting to realize that she'd read him like a book by slapping on those terms. She knew that he would sign it for Timothy's sake.

He was also starting to wonder whether she'd planned that night all those years ago.

Just then, her phone rang. It was in the kitchen. She looked at the screen and quickly turned it on silent mode.

She looked at Anthony through the glass door and only started texting when she thought the coast was clear.

Anthony noticed it all, but he didn't do anything. Instead, he took advantage of her preoccupation to text the number Lawrence had sent him. "Is this Ms. Shepherd? Lawrence recommended you. Let's talk tomorrow."

The lawyer's reply came swiftly, stating that she was happy to meet with him at 2 p.m. tomorrow. Once the appointment was made, he started searching for reliable private investigators. He needed more evidence.

…

The snake of a woman and her son shuffled into their respective rooms when the clock struck 10 p.m.

Anthony washed himself up and dragged his weary body into his room. As he lay on the bed, he started going through the first step of his plan. First of all, he needed to make sure that the divorce wouldn't go through so the assets wouldn't be split up.

During that time, he also had to learn who the owner of that Audi Q7 was and wait for the DNA test results to come out.