Chapter 4 - The Fall of the Mistress
Brittany Adams sat in a small,
windowless office on the fourth floor,
her designer handbag clutched in her lap like a shield.
The HR Director and a representative from the Legal department sat across from her,
their faces as expressive as mannequins.
"I didn't do anything wrong,"
Brittany sobbed,
her makeup running in dark streaks down her face.
"Michael loves me!
He’s the CEO!
He’ll fire you all!"
The HR Director didn't even blink.
"Mr. Carter was terminated for cause twenty minutes ago,
Ms. Adams."
"You are also being terminated,
effective immediately,
for violations of the company’s harassment policy and misuse of corporate resources."
Brittany’s breath hitched,
her heart racing with a terror she had never known.
"But… the Aspen trip… the Paris flight… Michael approved those!"
"He approved them using company funds,"
the Legal rep interjected,
"which constitutes a misappropriation of assets."
"As you were a knowing participant and beneficiary of these transactions,
the company is considering a civil suit to recover the costs."
Brittany felt the air leave the room,
her "luxury" life dissolving into a nightmare of legal fees and debt.
"I don't have that money!"
she screamed.
"I spent it!
The bags,
the clothes—"
"Then I suggest you find a very good lawyer,"
the HR Director said,
standing up.
"Your personal belongings have been packed."
"Security will escort you to the street."
"You are banned from the premises and are prohibited from contacting any current employees."
Brittany was led through the lobby,
the same lobby she had strutted through yesterday with her head held high.
People she had snubbed in the elevator now openly laughed as she passed.
The "Junior PR Associate" who thought she was the secret queen of Carter Global was now a cautionary tale.
When she reached the sidewalk,
she saw Michael standing by a taxi,
his cardboard box at his feet.
"Michael!"
she cried,
running toward him.
"They fired me!
They said they're going to sue me!
You have to help me!"
Michael looked at her,
and for the first time,
the "warmth" was gone.
He saw a twenty-six-year-old girl whose arrogance had destroyed his life's work.
He saw the person who had sent his wife photos from their own bedroom.
"Help you?"
he spat,
his voice trembling with a cold,
vicious rage.
"You sent her the photos,
Brittany."
"You sent her the proof she needed to take everything I owned."
"I lost ten million dollars in stock options because you wanted to play 'sis' with my wife."
"Get away from me,"
he growled,
pushing her hand off his arm.
"But I love you!"
she wailed.
"You love my credit card,
Brittany."
"And that card is cancelled."
He got into the taxi and slammed the door,
leaving her standing on the sidewalk in the afternoon heat.
She looked down at her phone,
hoping for a message of support from her friends,
but her social media was already blowing up.
The email had leaked.
The photos were everywhere.
"The Robe Girl" was trending on New York’s corporate gossip blogs.
Her reputation in PR was dead before it had even begun.
No firm in the city would touch a junior associate who sent taunting photos to a CEO’s wife.
She was twenty-six,
broke,
and universally despised.
She realized then that Claire hadn't just fired her.
Claire had erased her.
She stood on the corner of 5th Avenue,
surrounded by thousands of people,
and felt utterly alone.
May you like
The "dead log" had turned into a forest fire,
and Brittany was nothing but ash.
