Chapter 3 - The Arrogance of the Mistress
While I was recovering in the shadows,
Celeste Ray was busy making her presence known.
She began posting on social media,
subtle photos of Graham’s hand on her pregnant belly,
captions about "new beginnings" and "choosing happiness."
She even had the audacity to be photographed by a tabloid while entering our penthouse,
carrying designer shopping bags as if she were already the lady of the house.
Graham,
meanwhile,
was sending me frantic emails,
alternating between begging for forgiveness and threatening to sue for "interference with business operations."
He still didn't understand that he was already outmaneuvered.
He was a man playing checkers while the board was being sold from underneath him.
On a Tuesday afternoon,
I decided to pay a visit to the hotel lobby Celeste was redesigning.
I wore a sharp,
navy blue suit that hid my bandages and a pair of dark sunglasses that hid my exhaustion.
I walked into the Whitaker Grand,
the smell of fresh paint and expensive perfume filling the air.
Celeste was there,
standing in the center of the lobby,
gesturing toward a set of velvet chairs that were entirely too gaudy for the space.
When she saw me,
her smile didn't falter;
it sharpened.
"Madeleine,"
she said,
stepping forward with a hand resting on her stomach.
"I’m surprised to see you out of bed."
"The flowers must have worked wonders for your spirit."
The workers stopped what they were doing,
sensing the tension that suddenly electrified the room.
I looked at her,
noting the expensive watch on her wrist—a Whitaker family heirloom that Graham had promised to me.
"The flowers were a bit cliché,
Celeste,"
I said,
my voice projecting to every corner of the lobby.
"But then again,
so is the story of a mistress who thinks she’s won the lottery before the ticket is even cashed."
She laughed,
a high-pitched sound that lacked any real soul.
"Graham told me you’d be bitter."
"But you have to accept that your chapter is over."
"He needs a woman who can give him a family,
not a woman who needs constant repair."
The cruelty of her words was a gift.
It solidified my resolve,
turning any lingering trace of pity for Graham into a cold,
hard diamond of spite.
"A family is a beautiful thing,
Celeste,"
I said,
walking toward the main reception desk.
"But a home is even better."
"And since I’m the majority shareholder of the holding company that owns this property,"
"I’m here to inform you that your design contract has been terminated for cause."
Her face went perfectly still,
the Shopping-bag glow vanishing instantly.
"You can't do that,"
she stammered.
"Graham hired me."
"Graham is currently being investigated by the board for misappropriating company funds to pay for your apartment,"
I replied,
pulling a legal notice from my bag and handing it to the site foreman.
"And as of ten minutes ago,"
"Graham Whitaker has been suspended from all executive duties."
"You have thirty minutes to pack your samples and leave this building."
"If you are still here after that,"
"security will remove you as a trespasser."
I turned and walked away,
hearing her start to shriek for Graham on her phone.
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She was about to find out that the man she had chosen wasn't a hero.
He was just a man with a name that no longer carried any weight.
