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6 Months As My Brother-in-law's Mistress 015
Chapter FifteenSebastian’s POV It was almost funny how much I was enjoying this.A sensible person would probably feel bad watching his wife nearly choke on a birthday candle while her companion looked like his stomach had dropped out through the floor. But watching Preston fumble on that platform was the best entertainment I had seen since replacing my board of directors two summers ago.I didn't rush Addie off the stage. Once you drop a bomb in the middle of a room, you stick around to watch the smoke clear.Darcia stood frozen near the cake table, gripping the edge so hard her acrylics bent backward. Preston looked like a stray dog trying to remember how his own legs worked. The band scrambled to cover the pause, breaking into an upbeat brass rhythm that completely clashed with the mood.Nobody paid attention to the players. Every single head in the room turned to follow us as we moved toward the exit.I kept my palm flat against Addie’s lower back, guiding her past the staring g
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Chapter Fourteen Addie’s POVWhoever said revenge was best served cold was an idiot.Cold makes you numb. Cold makes you patient, quiet, and polite, the kind of person who sits still while the world keeps taking from you. No, this right here—watching the two people who tried to put me in an early grave choke under three million dollars’ worth of chandeliers—was burning, scalding, five-alarm hot. And God help me, I wanted to bathe in every second of it.For three years I had played the good little housewife. I ironed Preston’s designer shirts, smiled through his passive-aggressive insults at country-club dinners, and pretended not to notice the faint traces of vanilla perfume lingering on his cuffs. I spent the last seventy-two hours lying on an ambulance stretcher, coughing on asphalt smoke, listening to my own husband debate whether pulling my feeding tube would speed up his inheritance payout. And now look at him. Standing up there on that stupid velvet platform, shivering like a
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Chapter Thirteen Darcia’s POVClatter!The silver cake knife slipped right through my sweaty fingers, bouncing off the tiered porcelain stand and hitting the stage with a sharp, sickening ring.Nobody moved.Nobody laughed, nobody coughed, nobody made a damn sound. The entire ballroom went dead silent, three hundred elite guests holding their collective breath while three hundred pairs of eyes darted between me, the podium, and the double doors at the far end of the hall.My heart wasn't just beating; it was violently slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird trying to break bone.This is a hallucination, I told myself, digging my fingernails into my palms until the skin nearly broke. You're drunk. You had too much champagne before the toast and you're imagining things.Except I wasn't drunk. And the two people cutting straight down the center aisle weren't ghosts.Sebastian was supposed to be thirty thousand feet in the air, flying private to Manhattan for an emergency board mee
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Chapter Twelve Preston’s POVThis was what real power felt like.I stood dead in the center of the Drake Hotel’s Grand Ballroom, swirling a glass of Dom Pérignon, letting the golden glow of old-money luxury wash over me.Every corner of the hall was dripping in opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings like frozen waterfalls, throwing light over more than three hundred of Chicago’s finest. Federal judges, venture capitalists, managing partners, and old-line socialites moved through the room in an endless sea of white. White silk gowns trailing across the floor, crisp ivory dinner jackets, matching satin lapels, shimmering silver masks.It was a vision of untouched purity, and I was standing right at the center of it.Across the floor, the senior partners from my firm—men who usually treated junior associates like glorified help—were raising their glasses to me with nods of newfound respect. News of my private two-hour closed-door meeting with Sebastian Greene had already
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Chapter Eleven Addie’s POVThe tinted Maybach sat idling in the VIP underground tunnel beneath the Drake Hotel, the deep, low rumble of the engine vibrating straight up through the floorboards.Outside the climate-controlled cabin, the air was buzzing with the chaotic hum of high society. Through the privacy glass, I watched waves of Chicago’s wealthiest elite ascending the grand entrance stairs. It was an endless, blinding sea of shimmering white—cascading silk gowns, crisp tailored tuxedos, silver-feathered masquerade masks, and extravagant white fur stoles. Darcia’s dream world was in full swing, dripping in champagne, flashbulbs, and sickening innocence.And here I was.Sitting in the backseat of a black car, dressed in head-to-toe midnight black silk, dripping in dark diamonds, with an incision still taped to my flank.My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought it was going to crack my sternum. A wave of nausea surged straight up into my throat, making me feel like I w
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Chapter TenAddie’s POVPreston walked into the apartment earlier than usual, stepping through the front door with an easy, bouncing energy that had been absent for months.There was none of that drained, irritable slump in his shoulders that usually followed a long afternoon of billing hours at the firm. Instead, he kicked the door shut with the heel of his shoe, carrying a bottle of red wine in one hand and a tall, black protective garment bag from an exclusive boutique downtown in the other."Evening, Addie," he called out, his voice practically singing down the hallway.I remained curled on the small sofa, nursing a warm mug between my hands, watching him with steady eyes. "You're back early.""Things moved ahead of schedule at the office," he said, crossing the rug directly toward me.He leaned down and pressed a long, deliberate kiss against my temple. The touch carried more warmth and focus than anything he had offered me over the past half year. It sent a cold draft down the b
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