50

Chapter 50

Brittany’s Pov

Finally our jet landed at JFK.

During the flight, I’d reviewed all the plans I'd written in my diary, while I sipped champagne and imagined Adrian’s face when everything finally fell apart.

Firstly the public would know she's a stripper and whore nannying a three year old baby.

My phone was ringing nonstop before I entered the jet. I heard it but I’d decided not to answer it. Airplane mode was my escape—no calls, no distractions. Just me and my next move.

When we stopped near the private terminal, I turned the phone back on.

Seventeen missed calls. All from Thomas.

Thomas doesn't know when to call and when to stop calling. I sighed.

Once I got into the Mercedes, I called him back—only to stop his endless calls, not because I wanted to talk.

He picked up immediately.

“Hi, Brittany,” he said, sounding eager. “ Didn't you see my calls? I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

“I was on a plane,” I replied flatly, glancing at my nails. The red polish still looked perfect—unlike him. “What do you want?”

“Just checking on my baby.”

That word made my stomach twist. “What baby?”

“You,” he said in that low voice he thought was sexy.

I almost laughed. “Thomas, we broke up three years ago. I’m not your baby or your… anything. We’re done.”

“Bri, please,” he begged. “That day at the restaurant, you didn’t let me explain. I miss you. I miss us.”

“There is no us.”

“There could be again,” he said. “I’ve changed. I have money now. I can give you everything Darcy can…”

“Thomas,” I cut him off, my tone sharp. “I don’t need these unnecessary distractions you're giving me. Do not call my number again.”

He didn't talk, he stayed silent, then finally he made a statement that made my pulse spike.

“You’ll never marry Darcy. Not while I’m still breathing.”

My back straightened. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s reality.”

A cold laugh escaped my lips. “You really want to go down this road with me?”

“I’m not playing...”

I hung up. My hand shook slightly, not from fear, but from anger. How dare he?

Thomas, my ex-boyfriend , was a mistake and he's my past. I’d already deleted that mistake from my life. He wasn’t going to destroy what I’m trying so hard to build with Darcy.

I looked at his contact for a while, ready to block him, but stopped. Maybe keeping that line open would be smarter. Know your enemy before you strike. Thomas was definitely an enemy now.

“Where to, Miss Hawthorne?” Louis, my driver, asked.

“Home,” I said. “shhh, I need to pick this call.”

---

Finally we got back to the penthouse. The journey to Florida was a successful one, Then I called my girlfriend, Vivienne.

“Darling!” She greeted me.

“How was your trip Bri.?”

“Productive,” I said, taking a sip. “Can you meet me tonight? Diamond Hotel, seven o’clock.”

“Of course. What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you then. Dress, pretty girl...we might go shopping after.”

“Now you’re speaking the language, I love Brittany.”

---

The Diamond Hotel lounge was elegant, but private. It was filled with rich people pretending not to gossip.

Vivienne was seated already, looking very beautiful in a red dress.

“You look stunning,” she said.

We kissed in the air.

"That green dress is perfect.”

“Thank you,” I said, settling in. “You look amazing too.”

We ordered some martinis inclusive and leaned close.

“What’s this all about, Bri.?” she asked

“The gala next Saturday,” I said.

“Margaret’s charity one? I got my invite.”

“Yes. She told me she has a surprise planned for me.”

Vivienne raised her brows. “What kind of surprise?”

“She wouldn’t say. But I think she plans to announce my engagement to Darcy in front of everyone.”

Her eyes widened. “That would be perfect. He won’t be able to back out after that.”

"That's so true,” I said,“But... guess what? I also have a surprise for them.”

I leaned closer. “I went to Darcy’s office yesterday,walked right in and interrupted his meeting.”

Vivienne gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I did. I kissed him, right there. And he kissed me back.”

She squealed. “So it worked?”

“Almost. He stopped himself, but I could feel it. He still wants me.”

Vivienne grinned. “Then what’s the problem?”

“That nanny,” I said, my voice hardening.

“Adrian?”

“Yes. She lives there, at the mansion, nannying his daughter, like she belongs there, she wishes. She belongs to the gutters. As long as she’s around, in that mansion, I can’t go on.”

Vivienne tapped her glass three times, thinking about everything. “Then make her feel small. Go to his house. Let her see you with him, see you kiss him. Show her who’s in charge.”

I tilted my head, considering.

“You think I should visit his home?”

“Why not? Be gracious. Be confident. You’re the future Mrs. Rodrigo. She’s just the help.”

Her words sank in. She was right. Going there would send the perfect message—to Darcy, to Adrian, to everyone.

“I’ll need a gift for Pink,” I said. “Something thoughtful.”

“Perfect idea,” Vivienne said.

“Make it look like you care.”

I smiled. “This is why you’re my best friend, all giving me the perfect idea for my plans.”

“And because I help you plot?” she teased.

“Because you understand what it takes to win.”

---

An hour later, we were at Bergdorf Goodman, glasses of champagne in hand while stylists brought us racks of designer clothes.

“What about this?” Vivienne held up a pink lace dress.

“Too soft,” I said. “I need something that says control.”

The next outfit was a cream silk blouse that had wide caramel trousers and a cashmere blazer.

"Pretty right?" Vivienne asked

"Yes, it'll fit me well."I said

The dress was simple but clearly expensive. I studied myself in the mirror and smiled. “This one. Perfect balance—elegant but powerful.”

“And for the gala?” she asked.

We spent two hours trying on gowns, some were too big, those that were my size were not giving off wealthy and classy clothes when I put them on. None felt right until the stylist brought a midnight-blue Zuhair Murad gown. Beaded, fitted, breathtaking. I stepped into it and turned toward the mirror.

“This is it,” I whispered.

Vivienne clapped. “You look like royalty.”

“Good,” I said. “That’s exactly the goal.”

Vivienna also got a beautiful emerald gown for herself, and then we moved to the next phase. Buying accessories.

I chose Louboutins, a Chanel clutch, and simple jewelry that quietly showed wealth.

“Don’t forget Pink's gift Brittany,” Vivienne reminded me as we sat on VIP lounge sofas.

“Right,” I said. “A bracelet with her birthstone. Expensive but child-friendly.”

We found a lovely one I knew she’d like, a tiny gold bracelet with a pink sapphire.

“This one costs five thousand dollars,” the saleswoman said proudly, showing it off with her hands covered with black gloves.

By the end of the day, my credit card had taken a hit, but it was worth it. Every piece was part of the plan.

“You’re really going all in, Bri,” Vivienne said as we loaded our shopping bags into my car.

“I always do,” I said simply.

“Most women would quit by now. But I’m not, most women.”

She laughed. “You’re unstoppable when you put your heart on something.”

“Thanks Vivienne,” I said smiling. “That’s nice of you”

---

Finally when I reached home. Exhausted.

But that didn't stop me from laying down the new things I bought for myself.

Elegant. Confidence. Unmistakably expensive.

The bracelet and unicorn was wrapped neatly, ready to impress.

I poured a glass of wine with satisfaction. Meeting us with Vivienne is the best thing ever. As I drank the last wine in my glass cup, I looked out over the city lights.

Tomorrow, I’d visit Darcy’s house. I’d smile at Adrian, thank her for taking care of his daughter, and make sure she understood her place.

And if I got close enough to Pink to take a hair strand for the DNA test—well, that would be a bonus.

The test was important. If Pink really was Adrian’s biological daughter, and if the nurse had switched the babies three years ago,I needed to know. That truth could be used in so many ways: to control Darcy, to silence Adrian, or to destroy them both if they crossed me.

But first, I needed that hair sample.

My phone showed a message from mum after it beeped. When I check, it reads: Brittany, I sent you enough cash to shop for clothes, expensive jewelry for the gala night. Look beautiful darling, Margaret says it’ll be a wonderful night.

I smiled. Sure, it would be the best gala night. With my plans on point.

Thomas’s voice replayed in my head, when he said: You’ll never marry Darcy while I’m still breathing.

We’d see about that.

I scrolled through my contacts and stopped at a name—Raymond. Discreet. Expensive. The kind of man who handled problems permanently.

Just in case Thomas forgot who he was dealing with.

Because I meant what I’d said.

I’m not most women.

I’m Brittany Hawthorne.

The devil herself.

Then I forwarded his picture...