Chapter 2 - THE SOUND OF SILENCE
By 10:30 a.m.,
the news had reached the inner circles of the New York elite.
My phone,
which I had briefly turned on to check the pulse of the city,
was a battlefield of missed calls.
Michael had called thirty-four times.
His mother,
the woman who gifted us the Italian sheets,
had called twice.
Even the firm's head of PR had reached out,
likely looking for a way to kill the story before it hit the press.
But I wasn't interested in damage control.
I was interested in total demolition.
I ordered a breakfast of smoked salmon and capers to my room.
If I was going to be the talk of the town,
I needed to be well-fed.
As I ate,
I thought about Brittany Adams.
She was twenty-six,
vibrant,
and clearly desperate for a shortcut to the top.
She thought Michael was her ticket.
She didn't realize he was just a man with a fragile ego and a wandering eye.
She had sent those photos to hurt me.
She wanted me to crumble,
to beg,
to leave so she could slide into my place.
She didn't understand the power of a woman who has nothing left to lose.
The door to the suite rumbled with a heavy knock.
I didn't move.
"Claire!
I know you're in there!"
Michael’s voice was muffled,
but the rage was unmistakable.
I stood up,
straightened my dress,
and walked to the door.
I didn't open it.
"Go away,
Michael,"
I said,
my voice calm and steady.
"We have nothing to discuss until my lawyers are present."
"Lawyers?
Claire,
you sent that email to the entire board!"
"You've ruined my reputation!"
"No,
Michael,"
I replied,
leaning against the doorframe.
"You ruined your reputation when you decided my bedroom was a playground for the PR staff."
"It was a mistake!
She’s nothing!"
The typical excuse.
The standard line of a man caught with his pants down.
"She seemed like 'something' in the photos,"
I countered.
"She seemed like someone you were very happy with."
"I'm calling security,"
he shouted,
his voice cracking.
"You can't stay here on the company card!"
I laughed,
a soft,
genuine sound.
"I checked in using my personal account,
Michael."
"The one you didn't know about."
"The one I've been funding with my own commissions for three years."
There was a long silence on the other side of the door.
Michael wasn't used to me being ahead of him.
He was used to the Claire who managed his social calendar and smiled at charity galas.
He didn't know the Claire who had spent the last six months preparing for this day.
"Claire,
please,"
he whispered,
his tone shifting to desperation.
"The board is asking for my resignation."
"Good,"
I said.
"I hope they find someone more professional to lead the company."
"Maybe they'll promote Brittany."
I heard him kick the door,
a pathetic display of masculine frustration.
Then I heard his footsteps walking away down the hallway.
The first round went to me.
But I knew Michael wouldn't go down without a fight.
He was a cornered animal now,
and cornered animals were dangerous.
I went back to the window.
The park was still there,
the city was still moving.
But for Michael Carter,
the sun was setting on his empire.
I picked up the phone and dialed Ryan,
the private investigator.
"Did he leave?"
I asked.
"He’s in the elevator,"
Ryan confirmed.
"He looks like he’s aged a decade."
"Keep following him,"
I instructed.
"I want to know if he goes to her."
"If he goes to Brittany,
I want the footage."
"You got it,
Claire."
I hung up and looked at my reflection in the mirror.
May you like
The woman staring back wasn't a victim.
She was a victor in the making.
