Maybe I should bring that up next time I see her…?
–Noah: I doubt that’s going to matter. Women only remember the results.
Shit. He’s probably right.
–Me: We tried to make the best case we could to the shareholders who came.
–Huxley: But I’m not sure if I can really blame them. She wasn’t the best CEO.
–Me: There was a reason for that.
I text a brief summary of what Bianca did to her.
–Griffin: And you let her live? What’s happened to you?
–Nicholas: Did Lucie let the board and the shareholders know?
–Me: Yes, but not all of them seemed to buy it. Or at least, some seemed to think it wasn’t as serious as it sounded.
–Huxley: Did you sue her?
–Me: Not yet. But her time is coming.
Dealing with her backstabbing friend was the last thing on my mind when Luce was hurting and trying to regroup from Bianca’s betrayal, especially with the shareholders’ meeting to manage.
–Grant: There’s your mistake. Her time should be NOW.
–Huxley: If you don’t sue her, of course people are going to assume it wasn’t that big of a deal. They probably think Lucie is throwing her best friend under the bus to save her own ass.
What…?
–Grant: Just imagine, if somebody did this to you, would you let it go?
–Me: Never.
–Emmett: Exactly.
Ah,shit.I should’ve thought of it from that angle.
–Nicholas: Sue the bitch. She hurt your woman, and she shouldn’t get away with it.
My brothers are right. Bianca needs to be punished—publicly—in order for Luce to have a chance at getting her job back. It may not earn me Luce’s forgiveness, but I’m going to do it anyway. If she’s going to hate me, she can do it while she has what she wants the most.
And I’m going to clean up Peery Diamonds. Get rid of Roderick and everyone who sided with him, so that when Luce comes back, the house is in tiptop shape. A sleazy creep like Roderick will have a lot of dirt. It shouldn’t be that difficult to destroy him and his associates. I text Christoph with instructions.
A couple of hours later, the concierge notifies me that six boxes have been delivered. They’re from Luce. She sent my things back.
My hands shake as the bellhop brings them up. This feels so final. Permanently rejected. Like the wedding band she said she didn’t want back because it didn’t mean anything.
I rip open the boxes, hoping she included something that isn’t mine by mistake, so I can take it back to her. But, box after box, everything’s mine.
Finally I get to the last box and pull out a coat from the bottom. I stare at it for a moment. It’s a winter coat, warm enough for snowy weather. I don’t keep clothes like this in L.A. But it isn’t hers, either. The cut indicates it’s a man’s.
But whose?
Even now, jealousy flares—which is ridiculous. I can’t even look at another man’s coat without feeling like I want to punch something, and I thought I’d be fine taking revenge against her.
What an idiot I’ve been.
