Chapter 3 - The Accountant and the Safe**
The gala dragged on for another excruciating two hours. Elaborate courses of gourmet food were served and quietly removed untouched. Millions of dollars in impromptu philanthropic pledges were announced to roaring applause. Harrison worked the room like a seasoned politician, networking seamlessly with venture capitalists, real estate developers, and influential city officials.
At one point during the evening, Natasha brazenly drifted over to the head table, holding a glass of champagne like a trophy.
“Congratulations again on the award, Simone. Your speech... well, it was certainly emotionally moving,” Natasha purred, her eyes flickering teasingly toward Harrison.
“Thank you, Natasha,” Simone replied evenly, not blinking an eye. “That’s a stunning red dress you have on tonight.”
“Oh, thank you! I just had to find something special for such a monumental evening.”
“Harrison certainly has exceptional taste,” Simone said smoothly, her lips curving into a razor-thin smile. “He has a unique eye for designer fashion. Don’t you, darling?”
The loaded sentence hung heavily in the air between the three of them like a ticking explosive device.
Harrison’s fingers tightened so violently around the stem of his wine glass that tiny cracks spiderwebbed across the crystal. “I have an eye for what looks good on my wife,” Harrison answered, his voice dropping an octave into a hard edge. “Everyone else is entirely on their own.”
Natasha forced an awkward laugh, muttered a quick excuse, and hurried away into the crowd.
Shortly after the awkward exchange, Harrison excused himself to visit the executive men’s washroom.
Simone sat entirely alone at the center of the head table, the heavy crystal Humanitarian award reflecting the blinding glare of the overhead chandeliers across its polished facets.
Deep inside her abdomen, the baby gave another reassuring, rhythmic kick.
She closed her eyes and experienced a terrifying flash of raw clarity. She envisioned her unborn daughter entering the world three months from now. What kind of hollow, deceitful father would Harrison prove to be? Would he abandon Simone while she was still recovering from labor to sneak off into penthouse apartments with Natasha? Would he routinely miss birthdays, milestones, and family holidays while spinning elaborate corporate lies? Would Simone spend the rest of her natural life wandering empty hallways, wondering where her husband was and who he was touching?
*No,* a fierce, unyielding voice echoed inside her mind.
The answer arrived with absolute, pristine finality.
She would not permit it. Her innocent daughter deserved an honorable life, free from the toxic shadow of betrayal. And Simone deserved vastly better than a syndicate boss who treated her devotion as a convenient corporate shield.
Quietly, shielded by the high-backed velvet chair, Simone slid her smartphone out from beneath the table. Her fingers flew across the screen as she initiated a discreet, encrypted search for the most ruthless, high-net-worth forensic divorce litigator in the tristate area.
When Harrison returned a few minutes later, looking refreshed and wearing his immaculate corporate smile, he casually asked if she was finally ready to call it a night and head home.
Simone calmly shook her head. “Actually, I think I’m going to stay a bit longer to network with the primary foundation donors.”
He looked momentarily surprised, but a wave of relief washed over his features. He glanced at his Rolex watch, noting it was barely past ten o'clock. “Good idea. Make sure you lock down those multi-year pledges. I’ve got an early morning breakfast meeting with the syndicate logistics board anyway.”
“Meeting with Natasha, perhaps?” Simone asked before her conscious mind could stop the words from slipping out.
For half a second, the color completely drained from Harrison’s face, his impenetrable mask slipping away to reveal raw, naked panic.
Then, with lightning-fast recovery, the aristocratic mask slammed back into place. “What? No. Of course not. Why on earth would I have a business meeting with Natasha?”
“You tell me, Harrison,” Simone whispered coldly. “You two certainly seemed remarkably close earlier tonight.”
“She’s just an old college friend,” he scoffed, forcing a defensive laugh. “Your friend, actually.”
“Yes. She is. Or rather... she was.”
Simone stood up abruptly, smoothing the emerald silk over her bump. “I need to speak with the financial contributors. Don’t wait up for me tonight, Harrison.”
Without waiting for his reply, she turned her back on him and walked out of the grand ballroom toward the private exit.
May you like
The public performance was officially over. The real war was about to begin.
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