A Reborn Bride Pearl Emerging from Dust

Oliver was pretty much the poster child for "how NOT to be a dad." For years, he

hadn't even bothered to check in on Silas.

When Silas was a kid, Oliver barely gave him the time of day. Heck, he'd even

entertained the thought of getting rid of his own son. Now, after all these years,

suddenly the old man wanted Silas to come back and help "protect the family

legacy," whatever that meant.

Honestly, it was ridiculous.

Silas saw Oliver as the enemy, and yet Oliver still thought he had some sort of

authority, like Silas would just fall in line because of biology. Newsflash, Oliver:

you can't claim "dad points" when you never did a single dad thing.

The car rumbled along the winding drive.

Calliope just couldn't help herself. She had to rant a bit about Oliver.

Zane, the driver, kept his eyes on the road and didn't say a word. It wasn't until

they pulled up in front of a sprawling suburban mansion that he finally spoke.

"We're here, Ms. Jewell."

Calliope glanced at him. "So, Zane, what does your boss want with me this time?

What's he got to say now?"

Their last meeting had gone off the rails. She hadn't punched Oliver, but this time,

she wasn't making any promises. As Silas's wife, it was her job to protect her

husband, and she'd do it, even if it meant going a few rounds with Oliver.

Zane just shook his head. He honestly had no idea. But he figured it was probably

about Silas.

Calliope didn't push for details. She just followed Zane inside.

The living room was all marble floors and high ceilings. Oliver was there, of

course, but so was a woman sitting on the opposite couch. She looked about

Calliope's age, dressed head-to-toe in designer labels. Maybe there were a few

too many trips to the plastic surgeon, but you could tell she'd once been

gorgeous.

Calliope only gave her a glance. Whoever this woman was, showing up at Oliver's

place meant she was probably up to no good.

"Ms. Jewell, you made it." Oliver sipped his coffee, looking up. "Did Silas come

with you? I guess not, since he's not here."

"Nope, he didn't come with me," Calliope replied. "He doesn't really want to see

you. And honestly? I'm not wild about you two meeting up, either."

Calliope flopped down on the far end of the couch, making it clear she wasn't

interested in playing nice.

Now the three of them looked like some weird standoff from a Western movie.

She crossed her legs and stared Oliver down. "So, what is it, old man? What do

you want?"

"Old what?" Oliver looked stunned, as if no one had ever dared call him anything

other than "sir" or "Mr. Myers."

"Old man. You heard me. Old man, ancient fossil, whatever you want to call it."

Calliope just kept going, rattling off

"old man" like it was a swear word.

"You're so old and still kicking, and

for what? Just to ruin everyone's

day?" noveldrama

Oliver clutched his chest dramatically, like he was having a heart attack. "Am I

really that old?"

"Yeah, a lot older than me." Calliope glanced at the other woman. "Hey, what do

you think? He's older than you too, right?"

The woman just stared, clearly

sizing Calliope up since the moment

she walked in. Everything about

Calliope's attitude seemed to rub her

the wrong way, and it showed in the

way she looked at her-judgy,

dismissive.

"Come on, he could be your dad.

Isn't that ancient?" Calliope pressed.

She shot the woman another look.

"So, what's your deal with him? Don't

tell me you're his girlfriend. This old

guy still chasing after younger

women?"

"And honestly, what's wrong with your taste? You could do so much better than

this... whatever he is. He's not a good look for you."

The woman finally managed, "Uh... you've got it all wrong."

Oliver took a while to recover, then scowled. "Can you not? Do you have to be so

rude? I invited you here to talk, not to bicker like children!"