My Wife's Driver Wants Me Replaced

I stood behind the half-open door separating the garage and the living room, coffee in hand.

My driver, Frank Carter's voice carried through the gap.

"Fresh seafood? Yeah, right. Does he even know how much that costs? The guy doesn't even work. He's living off his wife's money.

"Ms. Grant is way too soft on him. He's gotten too comfortable.

"All he does is sit at home and mess with clay. He can't even be bothered to drive himself around. I have to do all his errands."

Leaning against the car, Frank let out a smug chuckle before speaking again.

"You bet. My son, Mike, is a former athlete. Good-looking, fit—the whole package. Ms. Grant won't know what hit her.

"He just graduated and hasn't found a job. I'll bring him over and make sure he gets a chance to meet her.

"Once Ms. Grant meets him, she'll dump that freeloader in no time."

I almost laughed.

The man's audacity was unbelievable.

Frank had been our driver for the past three years.

He hadn't been my wife Vivian Grant's first choice. She'd wanted a former soldier instead—a dependable professional who also worked as a bodyguard. Every one of his former employers spoke highly of him.

Frank moved to the city after his wife passed away. Since then, he'd raised his son, Mike Carter, on his own, driving for a living to put Mike through college.

I felt sorry for him, so I convinced Vivian to hire him.

Over the years, I'd treated him well. I paid him what a professional driver would earn. He never left my home empty-handed. More often than not, he'd leave with expensive cigarettes, fine liquor, or a gift box for Mike.

And this was how he repaid me—by making his son take my place.

I opened the door.

Frank was sitting behind the wheel, smoking one of the premium cigars I'd left in the car.

He caught sight of me and hurriedly ended the call.

Frowning, he snapped, "You scared the hell out of me, Lucas. Don't sneak up on me like that."

I smiled.

"You seem awfully jumpy. Hiding something?"

His expression faltered for the briefest moment before he slipped back into his familiar, patronizing tone.

"Watch your mouth, Lucas. What could I possibly hide?"

He stubbed out the cigar and picked up his thermos.

"I'm off. Mike's waiting for dinner."

"Oh, right." He paused, as though something had just occurred to him. "You still have those spare golf clubs for Mike, don't you? I'll bring him over tomorrow. Ms. Grant should be back by then too. He can help out if she needs anything."

He was very determined to have Mike meet Vivian.

Just a few days ago, Frank had gone on and on about Mike graduating without a job. I'd even considered asking Vivian to take Mike in as an intern.

I'd nearly done him a favor.

I met his gaze.

"Don't bother coming in tomorrow."

His contract was up today.

I'd been planning to renew it.

Not anymore.