Silence No More

48. Fight or Flight

"I would like to begin," Mr Rikkard Ambrose said while expressly avoiding looking in my direction, "by stating that I am absolutely innocent."

"Ma-nee!" Berty chirped again. "Gimme! Gimme Ma-nee!"

My fingers twitched, itching to wrap around a certain someone's throat. "Are you, now?"

"Indeed. It must be our son's excellent taste at work."

Carefully placing Berty down in his cradle, I turned and started to stalk towards my dear husband. "And from whom you think he got his taste, Dicky Darling?"

With one swift move, he slid off the bed, coincidentally putting the large piece of furniture in the room between us. "No comment."

"Indeed, Sir?"

"Indeed, Mrs Ambrose. I am certain this is a misunderstanding. Our son's behaviour must just be a coincidence."

"Ma-nee!" Berty chose that moment to give another happy squeal. "Papa gimme ma-nee!"

My gaze met that of Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

"Mr Ambrose?"

"Yes?"

"You're dead."

"I should point out that, in a confrontation between the two of us, you are unlike to successfully emerge vic—"

I leapt forward. In a blink, I was across the bed and about to pounce on him—only he wasn't there anymore. Somehow, he had ended up in another corner of the room, without seeming to waste time on getting from point A to point B.

"You." Lifting a finger, I stabbed it in his direction. "Don't. You. Dare. Run."

"Now, now, Mrs Ambrose. Let's not do anything rash—"

"The only one who is going to have a rash is you." I cracked my knuckles. "Once I'm done with you, you'll need to borrow Berty's bottles of baby lotion, or you won't be able to sit down for a week."

"I am a businessman. Sitting at my desk is required for me to continue my work."

"You're rich enough. You can take a holiday."

The look in his eyes at hearing the word 'holiday' was far more horrified than at my previous threats. Which kind of pissed me off.

I gifted my darling husband with a big smile. "You know...maybe I should force you to go on holiday. What do you think about taking a month off? Two? Three?"

Immediately, Mr Rikkard Ambrose stopped retreating and lifted his chin. "I would rather die."

"You...! Then let me fulfil your wish, you son of a bachelor! Just wait till I get my hands on you!"

I leapt forward, and immediately, he evaded. "Apologies. I am not good at waiting."

"Then let me get my hands on you right now! I'll teach you to corrupt our son!"

"No need. I am already proficient."

"You...!"

I doubled my pace, and soon, I had nearly caught up with the villainous child-corrupter. Only a few inches closer, and I'd have him! I just had to get past that armchair and—

—and suddenly, the armchair was shoved right into my path, courtesy of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Stumbling over it, I fell face-first into the plush upholstery.

"Be careful, Mrs Ambrose. Falling over like that, could it be that you are still exhausted from the pregnancy?"

"I'm going to strangle you!"