Rise of the Formidable Ex-wife (Lucia and Alex) novel Chapter 14

Chapter 14

“Marco! Where are the imported cigars I asked for? Daddy loves them after dinner!” Margaret’s voice echoed through the house, sharp with urgency.

Marco Hart stood in the kitchen, tie loosened, hair disheveled from running his hands through it too many times. The counter before him was covered with shopping bags, evidence of his fourth emergency trip to the store today. Cigars. Specific whiskey. Aged cheese. All the things Margaret insisted were essential for her parents‘ visit.

“Check the brown bag,” he called back, his voice tight with restraint. The financial report he’d planned to review that evening sat unopened on his desk. Another day, another distraction.

Jane, the housekeeper who’d worked for him and Lucia for twelve years, hurried past him with fresh towels. The womans salary was modest against Marco’s wealth, but Margaret had been hinting about hiring additional staff/full–time help instead of the weekly service. Another unnecessary expense.

Margaret burst into the kitchen, her blonde hair swept into an elegant updo, diamond earrings catching the light as she moved. “They’re pulling into the driveway! Did you remember to put champagne in the guest room? The Dom Pérignon, not that cheap prosecco you tried to pass off last week.”

Marco closed his eyes briefly, summoning patience. “Yes, Margaret. Champagne, fresh flowers, Egyptian cotton sheets. Everything you asked for.”

She paused her frantic movements to inspect him with critical eyes. “Change your tie. The navy one I bought you yesterday. And fix your hair” She glanced at her watch, a new Rolex he’d purchased after she’d pouted for three straight days. “Hurry! We need to greet them at the door together.”

Before he could respond, the doorbell rang, sending Margaret into a fresh frenzy. “They’re here! Marco, the tie!”

He loosened his current tie, perfectly adequate in his opinion, and hurried to the bedroom for the replacement. Margaret was already rushing to the front door, her voice shifting seamlessly from demanding to delighted as she greeted her parents.

“Mommy! Daddy! Welcome to our home!”

Marco straightened his new tie in the mirror, studying his reflection. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, new lines etched his forehead. The past weeks had taken their toll. Margaret’s ever–increasing demands, the wedding plans spiraling out of control, and beneath it all, the company’s troubling financials he hadn’t found time to properly address. Eight million dollars missing that David kept calling about.

He forced a smile onto his face and went to meet his future in–laws.

In the foyer stood the Lowes, Margaret’s parents, and Marco was immediately struck by how different they looked from their daughter. Where Margaret was polished and groomed to perfection, Josh Lowe wore an off–the–rack suit that had seen better days, his weathered hands evidence of years at the oil mill. Marie Lowe was plump and pleasant–looking in a department store dress, her hair simply styled, wearing costume jewelry that didn’t pretend to be anything else.

“So this is the famous Marco Hart!” Josh boomed, extending a calloused hand. “Man who runs a whole company and still wanted our Margaret! Can you believe it, Marie?”

“Josh, please,” Marie scolded gently, but her eyes darted around the foyer with undisguised wonder at the marble floors and crystal chandelier. “Though it is quite something, isn’t it? Our little girl from Clayton Trailer Park now living in a mansion.”

Marco shook Josh’s hand, surprised by the frank admission of their humble background. Margaret had mentioned her parents were “simple people,” but he’d assumed that was just her way of being modest.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Marco said. “Margaret has told me so much about you.”

“All bad. I bet!” Josh laughed loudly. “Told you how her daddy worked thirty years at the oil mill? How we saved every penny

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Chapter 14

for her beauty pageant entries and modeling classes?”

Margaret smile remained fixed, but Marco noticed her fingers tightening on her father’s arm. “Daddy, Marco doesn’t need your whole life story in the first minute.”

“Why not? Nothing to be ashamed of,” Josh countered. “We might not have had money, but we raised a daughter smart enough to land herself a CEO!”

“Let’s get you settled in your room,” Margaret said through clenched teeth. “The view is incredible.”

“A real guest room! In a real mansion!” Marie breathed, her excitement genuine. “Josh, this is really happening.”

As they climbed the stairs, Josh whistled at the artwork lining the walls. “How much did that painting set you back, son? Ten thousand? Twenty?”

“The original was eighty thousand,” Marco replied, naming a price that was actually modest for the piece.

Josh stopped mid–step, his face paling. “Eighty thousand… for a picture?” He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s more than I made in two years at the mill.”

“It’s an investment,” Marco explained, feeling oddly defensive.

“So’s a certificate of deposit at the credit union, and it doesn’t need a frame,” Josh muttered, but his eyes remained fixed on the artwork with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

The Lowes‘ reaction to the guest suite was even more dramatic. Marie actually gasped when she saw the king–sized bed with its silk duvet, the marble bathroom with heated floors, the private balcony overlooking the pool.

“Look at this bathroom, Josh! I could fit our entire old trailer in here!” She turned to Margaret, eyes shining. “Honey, you did it. You really did it. Everything we ever wanted for you. Everything you used to cut out of those magazines.”

Margaret smiled tightly. “Marie will bring anything you need. Make yourselves comfortable.”

As they left the Lowes to settle in, Marco noticed Margaret’s rigid posture, the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks.

“Your parents seem nice,” he offered, trying to ease the tension.

“They’re horribly unsophisticated,” Margaret snapped. “I’ve been dreading this visit for weeks. Promise me you won’t let Daddy talk about the vision boards I made as a kid. I’ll die of humiliation.”

Marco blinked in surprise. “Vision boards?”

Margaret stopped walking, turning to face him with sudden fury. “Yes, Marco. Vision boards. With magazine cutouts of mansions and sports cars and men in expensive suits. Is that what you wanted to hear? The sordid details of my trailer park upbringing where I planned my escape?”

The vehemence of her response startled him. “Margaret, I don’t care about that.”

“It matters to me!” Her voice rose sharply before she caught herself, glancing around to ensure Marie hadn’t heard. “It matters because I spent my entire life clawing my way out of that world. Taking speech lessons to lose my accent. Working as a secretary to meet the right kind of men. Doing whatever it took to escape.”

The naked ambition in her voice was something new, a glimpse behind the polished facade she always maintained.

“And now you have.” Marco said carefully. “You never have to go back.”

Margaret’s eyes glittered with sudden tears. “Not unless you decide I’m not worth the trouble. Not unless you leave me and I’m back where I started.”

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Chapter 14

The manipulation was obvious, but effective. Marco pulled her into his arms. “That won’t happen. I promise.”

She relaxed against him momentarily, then pulled back, composure restored. “I should check that Marie unpacked their things properly. Daddy will want to tell his bowling friends about staying in a mansion with its own guest suite.”

She disappeared down the hallway, leaving Marco standing alone.

He walked to his study, poured himself a drink he probably shouldn’t have at three in the afternoon. Sat at his desk where David’s urgent financial reports stared at him accusingly.

Vision boards of mansions and rich husbands.

The words circled in his head.

Upstairs, he could hear Josh’s booming voice marveling at the thread count of the sheets. Marie’s excited exclamations about the bathroom fixtures.

Margaret had planned this life since childhood. Cut pictures from magazines. Studied what she wanted. Went after it with singular focus.

And Marco had been exactly what she’d been looking for.

Not because of who he was.

Because of what he represented.

The realization settled over him like a heavy blanket. Suffocating. Inescapable.

He drained his drink.

Poured another.

Outside his study, his future in–laws explored their temporary palace.

In two weeks, he’d marry their daughter because his divorce with Lucia just got finalized.

The woman who’d planned to catch someone like him since she was twelve years old.

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