The Cost of a Mistake

Celeste didn’t remember putting on her clothes—just that her hands trembled the entire time. Her heels were in her hand, her shirt half buttoned, searching for her purse.

"Looking for this?"

Dante's voice came from the couch. He lay back as if he had all day, one leg over the other, her purse extended.

She halted. “Give it back.”.

He arched a brow. “Oh, you’re welcome for the water and the analgesics by the way”"

“Give it back, Dante,” I said.

He approached and put it on the table. “You were always polite until scared.”

She snatched the bag and headed for the door. “Whatever I am supposed to be doing for you, I’m not going to do it until I know what it is.”

“Did I say you were?” His voice was calm, too calm

She stopped. “You arranged this?”

He laughed low. “You think I put you on the streets of my city in the dead of night, just so you could flirt with me?”

Her face burned. “I was drunk.”

He shrugged. “You were some kind of thing.”

“Don't—”

He rose then, deliberately, slowly, as he pulled on his shirt sleeves. “Take it easy, counselor. I’m not detaining you.”

That should have been enough wit her. It didn’t. It just made her skin crawl.”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

He smiled weakly. “You called me worse when you sent me away.”

Her throat tightened. She opened the door and left before he could say another word.

---

The taxi ride home felt like an eternity. She played back his voice again and again, his voice, his face. The city outside had not changed, but somehow everything was different.

Her phone kept ringing all the time as soon as she turned it on - calls, texts, notifications. She ignored them.

When she got to her office building at last, they had been looking. One of the interns muttered something as she moved past. Another too swiftly turned away.

Celeste was stopped by her assistant, Mara, at the door. "Celeste, we have to talk."

"I'm running late for briefing," Celeste said as she picked up her pace. Mara kept up. "It's for you."

Celeste paused before entering her office. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Mara hesitated. "There is... something on the internet. You and Dante Navarro." "What? I thought their angle was death threats."

Her stomach dropped. "What?" she asked. Mara handed over her phone. "I didn’t want to show you, but it’s everywhere."

A headline leapt out at her: ‘Defense Attorney Has Ties to Ex-Convict Client In The Scandalous Affair.’

There was a picture below. Grainy, but the figure is clearly – she in front of Dante's building that morning.

Her hand went cold. “Who took this?”

Mara's voice lowered. "The board had an emergency meeting. They want you to take a leave."

Celeste slowly opened the door to her office. She stared at nothing, sitting. The walls were closing in, every sound was too loud.

Her boss Mr Leland arrived a short time later, his face was scowling. "Celeste, I need your statement."

"There is no statement," she said quietly. "It's not true."

He sighed. "There is a photograph, Celeste."

"It's not what you think."

"You're looking tired." "The company just can't take another blow. You're being suspended—temporarily, until this situation clears up."

Her chest ached. "You don’t believe me?"

"I think you should go home," he said kindly. "Get a lawyer."

The silence was even worse when she came home. The home smelled faintly of her husband’s cologne — she hated that she noticed.

He was in the living room, wearing his suit still, phone in his hand.

"“Good timing,” he said, not looking up."“Good timing!” he said, without even lifting his eyes.

She put her purse on the table. "You saw it."

"Oh, I certainly did." He finally looked at her. "How long, Celeste?"

"Don't start," she muttered.

"How long?" said he again, now rising.

"It was one night. I was drunk."

He laughed, a bitter, sharp laugh. "Oh, that makes it better?" he asked.

She had no reply.

He snatched a page from the table, divorce papers. "You've already signed these."

“I told you I was done.”

Done?” He stepped closer. ““After you humiliate me in front of everyone?”

Her clenched fists relaxed. "You don't get to be a victim, Ethan. You’ve been cheating for years and then last night? You take me out to dinner, and while I’m at dinner, you go fvck your mistress."

He scowled at her. "And you went and slept with a criminal. Nice step up."

She swallowed. "Just sign them."

He tore the papers in half and threw them at her feet. "You'll regret this, Celeste."

"Threatening me now?"

"I don't have to. The world's already doing it for me."

She glared at him. "Get out."

He sneered. "It's my house."

"Not for long."

He grabbed his keys and left, slamming the door.

She just stood there for a second, shaking. Then she fell onto the couch and put her hands over her face.

Her phone buzzed again from a blocked number this time. She ignored it.

Then came the knock.

She paused before she opened the door. No one was there. Just a plain envelope on the ground.

Black seal. No address.

Her breath caught. She opened it slowly and ripped it open.

Inside one card, matte black, and thick.

Midway, in neat handwriting:

'You look better when you're mine.'

Underneath it Dante Navarro.

Her knees buckled.

"Jesus Christ," she breathed as she looked at the card.

The phone vibrated again. This time, a message.

Unknown: Did you receive my gift, counselor?

She laid the phone down on the table, as if it was too hot to handle.