Square One

George took a few moments to go inside his bathroom and wash his hands with a detergent just like he had promised. By the time he got out, Cynthia was standing in the middle of his office with one hand on her waist and the other one pressed against her forehead. He walked until he faced her.

"…Now tell me this, is he or is he not trying to come between us?"

"Are you suggesting that this…that she… that he…"

"Yes. I'm not suggesting, I know. I had the file of the woman he sent my way before she even agreed to it,"

"Despicable," she said with pure disgust.

"Well, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, don't forget who his mother is,"

Cynthia shuddered, "I thought that he was doing much better with the therapy and all…"

George barked out a laugh, "And as he gets better, his true colors are manifesting,"