Chapter 4 - THE FALLOUT AT THE FRONTLINE
While I sat in the quiet luxury of the Plaza,
Brittany Adams was experiencing a different kind of reality.
According to Ryan’s updates,
she had been intercepted by security at the elevators.
Her personal belongings were handed to her in a cardboard box.
She wasn't allowed to clear her desk.
She wasn't allowed to say goodbye.
The entire office had watched as she was marched out of the lobby.
The girl who had mocked me for being "cold" was now shivering on a sidewalk in Midtown.
She had thought she was special.
She thought she was the one who would finally tame Michael Carter.
But to Michael,
she was just a tool for his ego.
And to the company,
she was a liability to be removed.
I opened my laptop and checked the internal company forum.
The news was spreading like wildfire.
Someone had leaked the details of the email.
The memes had already begun.
"The Robe Scandal."
"PR: Personal Relations."
The brand Michael had spent a decade building was being mocked by his own employees.
I felt a pang of sadness for the company itself.
It was a good firm with hardworking people.
But Michael had treated it like his personal playground,
and now he was paying the price.
Another text from Ryan arrived.
"They're screaming."
"I can hear them from the hallway."
"She’s blaming him for the job."
"He’s blaming her for the photos."
I could almost see the scene.
Michael,
disheveled and desperate,
realizing that the woman he risked everything for was just as shallow as he was.
And Brittany,
realizing that her "billionaire" boyfriend was about to be unemployed.
They deserved each other.
Two people who valued image over integrity.
Two people who thought they could play with fire and not get burned.
I looked at the photos Brittany had sent me one last time.
The ivory robe.
The Italian sheets.
I felt a sudden urge to get rid of them.
I called the housekeeping staff.
"I have some items at my townhouse that need to be collected and donated,"
I told them.
"I want everything in the master bedroom gone by tomorrow morning."
"The mattress,
the bedding,
the furniture."
"Everything."
I would start fresh.
I would rebuild my life without the stench of Michael’s lies.
The phone rang again.
It was Michael.
I finally answered.
"What?"
I asked,
my voice cold as ice.
"You're a monster,
Claire,"
he hissed,
his voice trembling with rage.
"You destroyed my life over a few photos."
"I didn't destroy your life,
Michael,"
I replied.
"I just held up a mirror."
"You didn't like what you saw."
"I’m going to sue you for everything,"
he threatened.
"I’m going to make sure you never work in this city again."
"Try it,"
I said calmly.
"I have a folder of your financial 'irregularities' that I haven't even opened yet."
"Do you really want to go to court,
Michael?"
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end.
"You wouldn't,"
he whispered.
"Don't test me,"
I said,
and hung up.
May you like
I knew he was scared now.
Scared of the Claire he never bothered to truly know.
