Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love
Chapter 41: The Phone Call

Chapter 41: The Phone Call

Jared’s face tightened, and he instinctively stepped forward, prepared to walk past him without indulging in any further conversation. He had no intention of engaging with Harold. He was beneath his time—annoying, and frankly, infuriating. But before Jared could brush him off, Harold sidestepped and blocked his path, his grin widening. "Come on now, Jared, are you going to ignore me? Or maybe you’d rather kill me?" Harold’s voice dripped with mockery.

Jared scoffed, rolling his eyes as if Harold’s very presence was an affront to his dignity. "Spending another minute with you might just do it," he muttered. The thought of entertaining Harold any longer made his skin crawl.

Harold, however, wasn’t so easily deterred. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number that made Jared stop dead in his tracks. The name on the screen glowed mockingly: "Poodle Princess."

Jerica.

Jared froze. Why was Harold calling her now?

Rationally, Jared knew Jerica wouldn’t answer—she had no reason to, not after all this time. But he couldn’t help it; the sight of her name flashing on Harold’s phone tugged at something deep inside him. There was always a part of him, no matter how buried beneath layers of pride and resentment, that was vulnerable when it came to her.

Then his gaze landed on the picture Harold had attached to her name. It was Jerica, younger, maybe sixteen or seventeen, her face framed by soft curls, her smile wide and innocent. She looked so different—untouched by the complexities of their marriage, by the hurt that had built up between them over the years. Harold had known her then. He’d been there when she was carefree, when her laughter hadn’t been weighed down by the heaviness of their life together.

A surge of jealousy rose in Jared’s chest. He hadn’t even known her then. How lucky was Harold to have been part of her life when everything was still simple? The thought sickened him.

-----

Upstairs, Jerica lay on her bed, the soft comforter wrapping around her like a cocoon. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she was on the verge of drifting off when her phone vibrated, jolting her back to consciousness. She blinked, disoriented, and glanced at the screen.

Harold.

For a moment, she considered ignoring the call, letting it go to voicemail like she had so many times before. But then a thought flickered in her mind. Harold’s at the gala. The gala Jared had gone to without her.

Her hand hesitated above the screen, hovering between decline and answer. The temptation to just let it ring out was strong, but before the call could end, she swiped to answer.

Jared’s face paled as he saw Harold’s grin widen. Jerica had answered the call. Damn it. Harold practically glowed with smugness.

"A car will be there to pick you up in thirty minutes. Be ready," Harold said, his tone so casual, as if Jerica hadn’t been avoiding him for years. His plan had been simple—if Jerica wouldn’t come on her own, he’d make it impossible for her to refuse. Even he was a little surprised she’d actually answered, though.

Jerica’s voice, quiet and slightly breathless, echoed faintly through the phone. "No," she said, her voice firm but weary. She was ready to end the call, but something stopped her.

It was as though a little devil perched on her shoulder whispered for her to reconsider. Why not show up and surprise Jared? He thought he could just leave her behind, out of his life, and expect her to stay in her lane?

She bit her lip, the idea growing in her mind. No, she wouldn’t give Harold the satisfaction of thinking he could manipulate her, but the thought of showing up and catching Jared off guard... That was tempting.

Harold, sensing her hesitation, pressed on. "Then tell that to the autistic chauffeur who was so excited to drive Elizabeth Evans’ daughter to the gala. He was a beneficiary of the foundation, you know. He’ll be there in five minutes with a limousine. You won’t miss him." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before he hung up.

Jerica stared at her phone, Harold’s words replaying in her mind. What do I do now?

Harold ended the call with a satisfied smirk. Jared’s expression darkened as Harold pocketed his phone. "She’ll come," Harold declared confidently. "Maybe you should run away now if you don’t want to be seen with her."

Jared forced a laugh, but the unease in his chest wouldn’t leave. "Why would I run away?" he said, keeping his voice steady as he walked toward the congressman he’d intended to speak to. But inside, his mind was already spinning. What would Jerica do if she actually came?

-----

Jerica stood by the window, watching as the limousine rolled smoothly to a stop on the street below. The chauffeur stepped out, an eager smile lighting up his face as he checked the address. Jerica sighed. Do I really want to turn him away?

She thought about the pride and joy in Chef Smith’s voice when he spoke about the gala, how much it meant to so many people. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go, if only to honor her mother’s legacy. And besides... she wouldn’t mind shaking things up a little.

Thirty minutes later, dressed in a stunning gown that shimmered in the dim light of the evening, Jerica stepped into the limo. The chauffeur handed her a glass of champagne as the vehicle glided through the streets toward the gala.

When they arrived at the venue, the air was alive with excitement. The flash of cameras, the glittering lights bouncing off the elegant gowns and tuxedos, the murmurs of the crowd—it was overwhelming, yet thrilling at the same time.

Jerica wanted to slip in unnoticed, but fate had other plans. As soon as she stepped out of the car, Susan Whitaker, the interim CEO of the Rainbow Spectrum Foundation, spotted her. Jerica hadn’t even taken a full breath before Susan hurried over, eyes wide with surprise. "Ms. Evans!" Susan exclaimed, her voice full of pleasant shock. "I can’t believe you’re here! Your mother would’ve been so proud."

Jerica smiled faintly, but inside, she felt the weight of her mother’s memory pressing on her. She hadn’t planned to be the center of attention, but Susan insisted on leading her through the red carpet.

"We always leave a seat for your mother at the gala. Tonight, it’s yours," Susan said, her voice carrying a kind of reverence. But Jerica barely heard her.

The CEO’s words floated around her, like a distant hum, drowned by the louder, more desperate thoughts racing through her mind. She walked alongside Susan, the interim CEO, who many mistakenly assumed was the face of the foundation. But Jerica’s eyes were not on the people around her.

They were searching, scanning the room with an intensity born from longing—for the one man who could still make her heart flutter despite the deep canyon forming between them.

Where was Jared?