Chapter 77 Cornered In The Marble Lounge
The heavy brass lock clicked into place. The sharp metallic sound echoed off the rose marble walls of the women’s lounge.
I stood by the sink. I did not drop the damp paper towel. I did not shrink back against the counter. I watched Celeste Whitmore
remove her hand from the door.
Her chest heaved. The massive pale pink tulle of her gown consumed the entryway, but the dress offered her zero authority. The flawless society hostess persona evaporated. Her eyes carried a chaotic, unhinged light. She tracked my movements through her own
home. She waited for me to leave my security contractors in the hallway.
“You locked the door,” I stated.
“I wanted privacy,’ Celeste breathed. She took a step forward. Her diamond tiara caught the glare of the vanity lights. ‘You walk into my home. You parade around my ballroom. You think a custom black dress changes your bloodline.”
“I think you are shouting in a bathroom, Celeste,” I replied. “It lacks elegance.”
She flinched. The calm dismissal infuriated her. She wanted a screaming match. She wanted me to cower, to beg, to display the
terror she felt on the inside.
I turned my attention past her shoulder.
The lounge featured a short hallway leading to a row of private stalls. The heavy oak doors of the stalls shielded the occupants from the main vanity area. As Celeste took another step toward me, two of those oak doors opened.
Penelope Ashcroft and Gabriela Fuentes stepped out into the hallway.
The two wealthy media heiresses froze. They took in the scene. They saw Celeste standing near the locked exit. They saw me standing by the marble sinks. They recognized the tension. They did not announce their presence. They stood in the shadows of the alcove, their eyes wide, watching the confrontation unfold.
Celeste did not notice them. The blind rage narrowed her vision. She focused entirely on me.
“You stole my investors, Celeste hissed. She closed the distance between us. The scent of her heavy floral perfume filled the air, thick and suffocating. “You manipulated Alexander Redford. You manipulated Javier Mendoza. You use your tragic little backstory to
charm them, but you are a fraud.”
I offer them profit margins,” I corrected. I tossed the damp paper towel into the brass trash bin. “You offer them charity galas and bad champagne. The market recognizes the difference.”
“You are nothing!” Celeste shrieked.
The sound bounced off the mirrors. In the alcove, Penelope covered her mouth with her hand.
9
O
G
|||
O
<
1/2
10:52 Thu, Jul 9
Chapter 77 Cornered In The Marble Lounge
You are a discarded toy,” Celeste continued. Her voice dropped to a vicious, trembling register. “Tristan threw you away the moment my family offered him a real alliance. He chose me. He put this ring on my finger. You possess an office in the financial district, but
you will never possess a place in this society.”
I looked at her face. I studied the frantic movement of her eyes, the tight pull of her jaw. I dissected her psychology.
“You believe your own lies, I observed. A pity settled in my chest. “You wear his ring, but you sleep in an empty bed/He looks fight through you. You locked this door because you are terrified the entire ballroom realizes you hold zero power over the man you plan
to marry.”
Celeste turned a deep red. The truth hit her with the force of a physical blow. Her hands curled into tight fists.
She needed a weapon. She needed to strike a nerve to prove she retained her superiority. She reached into the darkest corners of her
mind.
“You think you understand power,” Celeste spat. A cruel, triumphant smile twisted her lips. “I hired a private intelligence firm after the summit. I paid them to dig into the gap in your timeline. I told them to tear Port Sterling apart.
The blood in my veins turned to ice.
My posture remained rigid. I forced my breathing to stay steady. I could not show a single fracture. If she smelled fear, she would
dig deeper.
“They found the hospital records, Minerva, Celeste declared. She stepped closer. “The charity ward on the edge of the industrial
district. A sealed admission under a ghost corporation.”
I stared at her. The ambient noise of the party outside the heavy doors faded into a dull hum. The world shrank to the rose marble
room and the venom spilling from her mouth.
‘You vanished for a year,” Celeste continued, her voice dripping with pure disgust. “You played the corporate victim on television. But the reality is pathetic. You ran away and bore a bastard child in a filthy public/clinic. Some random dockworker? Some cheap
mistake you made while hiding in the slums?”
VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me