CHAPTER FIVE

The next morning, Leslie woke up to sunlight streaming through her window.

For a moment, just a brief, stupid moment, she forgot where she was. Forgot what had happened. Forgot the humiliation and the tears and the crushing weight of everything.

Then reality came crashing back.

She sat up slowly, her body aching. She hadn’t slept well. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the cameras. The laughter. Victoria’s cruel smile.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She picked it up and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Social media was exploding. Photos of her from last night, covered in filth, running away, crying, were everywhere. The comments were worse.

“Who even is she?”

“Tony Blackwell’s wife? More like his charity case lol”

“She looks like she crawled out of a dumpster”

“I can smell this picture”

“Poor girl doesn’t belong in that world”

Leslie’s hands shook. She turned off her phone and set it down.

She couldn’t look at it anymore.

She got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. In the mirror, she looked terrible. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her hair was a mess. She looked exactly how she felt.

Broken.

She splashed cold water on her face and tried to pull herself together.

Today was a new day. She just had to get through it. One day at a time.

That’s what she always told herself.

Just survive today. Then tomorrow. Then the day after that.

Until the contract ended and she could disappear.

She got dressed in simple clothes, jeans and a plain shirt. Nothing fancy. Nothing that would draw attention.

Then she went downstairs.

The house was already awake. She could hear voices in the kitchen. Staff moving around. The smell of coffee and breakfast cooking.

When she entered the kitchen, Maria, the head maid, looked up from the stove.

“Morning, Miss Leslie,” Maria said quietly.

“Morning,” Leslie replied.

Maria was one of the few people in this house who treated her like a human being. Not warmly, Maria was too smart for that, too aware of how things worked here, but at least with basic respect.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Maria said. “Mrs. Catherine and Mr. Tony are in the dining room.”

Of course they were.

Leslie took a breath. “I’ll help you bring it out.”

Maria’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Leslie grabbed serving trays from the counter. “Please.”

Maria studied her for a moment, then nodded.

Together, they prepared the breakfast service. Eggs. Toast. Fresh fruit. Coffee. Orange juice. Everything laid out perfectly on expensive china.

Leslie helped carry the trays to the dining room.

Catherine sat at the head of the table, reading something on her tablet. She was already dressed for the day, another perfect pantsuit, hair immaculate, makeup flawless.

Tony sat across from her, scrolling through his phone.

Neither of them looked up when Leslie entered.

“Breakfast,” Leslie said quietly, setting down the trays.

Silence.

She began placing the plates in front of them. Her hands were steady. She’d gotten good at this, at being invisible. At serving them like staff.

Because that’s what she was to them. Not a wife. Not family.

Just someone who lived here and did what she was told.

“Coffee,” Catherine said without looking up.

Leslie poured it. Black, no sugar. The way Catherine liked it.

“Toast,” Tony muttered.

Leslie placed two pieces on his plate.

Still, neither of them acknowledged her presence. Not a thank you. Not a glance. Nothing.

She was furniture. A ghost.

Leslie finished serving and stepped back, standing near the wall. Waiting. In case they needed anything else.

That’s what she did now. After last night, after the humiliation and the harsh words, she knew better than to assume she could just leave.

Catherine took a sip of coffee, then finally looked up. Her eyes landed on Leslie like she was noticing a stain on the carpet.

“Why are you still here?” Catherine asked.

Leslie blinked. “I, I thought you might need.”

“If we need something, we’ll call for Maria.” Catherine’s voice was cold. Dismissive. “You’re not staff, Leslie. You’re supposed to be my son’s wife. Act like it.”

Leslie felt her face burn. “I was just trying to help.”

“By serving us like a maid?” Catherine set down her coffee cup with a sharp clink. “Do you know how that looks? My daughter-in-law acting like hired help?”

Leslie’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry, I.”

“Don’t apologize. Just stop embarrassing yourself.” Catherine turned back to her tablet. “And fix your appearance before you leave this house today. You look like you haven’t slept.”

“I haven’t,” Leslie said quietly.

“That’s not my problem.” Catherine didn’t look up. “You have an appointment at eleven. Hair salon. The one on Fifth Avenue. Maria has the details. Don’t be late.”

Leslie stood there, confused. “An appointment?”

“Did I stutter?” Catherine’s voice was sharp. “After last night’s disaster, we need damage control. You’ll get your hair done. Makeup. Whatever they need to do to make you look presentable again.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The charity luncheon is tomorrow,” Tony said, speaking for the first time. He still didn’t look at her. “You’re coming with me. We need to show everyone that last night was just an unfortunate incident. That we’re fine. That you’re fine.”

Leslie’s stomach dropped. “Another event?”

“Yes, another event.” Tony’s voice was flat. Bored. “You’re my wife. That means showing up when required. Looking appropriate. Not making a scene.”

“But.”

“But nothing.” He finally looked at her, his eyes cold. “You signed a contract, Leslie. Part of that contract is appearing at events when necessary. Tomorrow is necessary.”

Leslie felt panic rising in her chest. She couldn’t do another event. Not so soon. Not after last night.

“Please,” she said quietly. “Can’t I just, can’t I stay home? Just this once?”

“No.” Catherine’s voice cut through the room like a knife. “You cannot stay home. You will go to that luncheon. You will smile. You will be pleasant and polite and completely unremarkable. And you will not embarrass this family again. Is that clear?”

Leslie’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Yes.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes,” Leslie said louder. “It’s clear.”

“Good.” Catherine went back to her tablet. “Now leave. You’re hovering and it’s irritating.”

Leslie turned and walked out of the dining room.

Her chest felt tight. Her eyes burned with tears she refused to let fall.

Not here. Not where they could see.

She went back to the kitchen. Maria was cleaning up, her movements efficient and practiced.

“Miss Leslie,” Maria said gently. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Leslie’s voice came out strained. “Maria, what’s this appointment Catherine mentioned?”

Maria pulled out a card from her apron pocket. “Hair salon. Eleven o’clock. The address is here. They’re expecting you.”

Leslie took the card. Her hands were shaking slightly.

“They’re good,” Maria added quietly. “The salon. They’ll take care of you.”

“Thanks.” Leslie looked at the older woman. “Maria, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think it gets easier? Being here?”

Maria’s face softened. For a moment, she looked genuinely sad.

“No, Miss Leslie,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t get easier. You just get used to it.”

The words hit Leslie like a punch.

Maria reached out and touched her arm gently. “But you’re stronger than you think. I can see it.”

Something passed through Maria’s eyes when she said it. Something old and knowing, the look of a she-wolf who recognizes what she is standing next to and knows better than to say it out loud.

Leslie wanted to believe that. But right now, standing in this kitchen, about to go to another event where people would judge her and mock her and make her feel small, she didn’t feel strong at all.

She felt like she was drowning.

“I should go get ready,” Leslie said quietly.

Maria nodded. “The driver will take you to the salon. Just let security know when you’re ready to leave.”

Leslie walked back upstairs to her room.

Once inside, she locked the door and finally let the tears come.

Silent. Bitter. Endless.

She cried for herself. For the life she thought she was getting when she signed that contract. For the girl she used to be before all of this.

But eventually, the tears stopped.

Because crying didn’t change anything.

She wiped her face, fixed her makeup as best she could, and got ready to go to the salon.

Just like Catherine ordered.

Just like a good, obedient wife should.

-----

Three hours later, Leslie sat in an expensive salon chair while a stylist worked on her hair.

The salon was exactly what she expected, marble floors, crystal chandeliers, staff dressed in all black. The kind of place where a single appointment probably cost more than her mother’s monthly rent.

“Your hair is beautiful,” the stylist, a woman named Simone, said as she worked. “So thick. So healthy.”

“Thanks,” Leslie murmured.

“But we’ll need to do a deep conditioning treatment after what you went through.” Simone’s voice was professional but sympathetic. “I saw the photos online. That must have been awful.”

Leslie’s face burned. “Can we not talk about it?”

“Of course. I’m sorry.” Simone continued working in silence for a moment, then added gently, “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it was your fault. Someone did that to you on purpose.”

Leslie looked up at her in the mirror. “What makes you say that?”

Simone met her eyes. “Because I’ve been doing hair for fifteen years. And I’ve never seen someone accidentally get that much substance in their hair without noticing. Someone put it there. While you weren’t looking.”

Leslie’s throat tightened.

She’d suspected, of course. Victoria’s smile. Her cruel words. But hearing someone else say it made it real.

“Why would someone do that?” Leslie asked quietly.

Simone’s expression was kind. Knowing. “Honey, you’re married to one of the richest men in the city. There are a lot of people who’d love to see you fail.”

Before Leslie could respond, the salon door opened.

And Victoria walked in.

Leslie’s entire body went rigid.

Victoria looked perfect, as always. Designer dress. Expensive sunglasses. Her hair and makeup flawless.

She scanned the salon, and her eyes landed on Leslie.

A slow smile spread across her face.

“Well, well,” Victoria said, walking over. “If it isn’t Mrs. Blackwell. Getting cleaned up after your little incident?”

Leslie’s jaw clenched. “Victoria.”

“Don’t mind me.” Victoria sat in the chair right next to Leslie’s, even though there were several other empty chairs. “I have an appointment too. Isn’t that convenient?”

Simone glanced between them, sensing the tension. “Miss Leslie, I’ll be right back. I need to mix your treatment.”

She walked away quickly, leaving Leslie alone with Victoria.

Victoria turned in her chair, studying Leslie with false concern. “How are you holding up? After last night? That must have been so traumatic for you.”

Leslie said nothing.

“I mean, imagine,” Victoria continued, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Your big debut as Tony’s wife, and you end up covered in shit. Literally. How unfortunate.”

“What do you want, Victoria?”

“Want?” Victoria’s eyebrows lifted. “I don’t want anything. I just happened to have an appointment here. Total coincidence.”

“Right.”

Victoria leaned closer, her voice dropping. “Although, between you and me, I did hear some interesting things after you left last night.”

Leslie’s stomach twisted. “Like what?”

“Like how Tony spent the rest of the evening with me.” Victoria’s smile widened. “We had drinks. Talked. Laughed. It was just like old times.”

Leslie felt something cold settle in her chest. “I don’t care.”

“Don’t you?” Victoria tilted her head. “Because he seemed pretty relieved that you were gone. Said it was easier to enjoy himself without having to babysit his embarrassing wife.”

The words hit Leslie like a slap.

“He didn’t say that,” Leslie said, but her voice was weak.

“Didn’t he?” Victoria pulled out her phone and scrolled through something. “I mean, I don’t have it recorded or anything. But I distinctly remember him saying you were a mistake. That marrying you was the biggest regret of his life.”

Leslie’s hands clenched in her lap.

Victoria kept going, clearly enjoying herself. “He also said that the only reason he tolerates you is because his mother insisted. Something about needing to look stable for the board. But once that’s done.” She made a dismissive gesture. “Goodbye, Leslie.”

“Stop.”

“I’m just being honest with you.” Victoria’s voice turned sharp. “You’re temporary. A placeholder. And everyone knows it except you.”

Leslie turned to face her directly. “If I’m so temporary and unimportant, why do you keep bothering me?”

Victoria’s smile faltered for just a second.

“Because,” she said slowly, “I want you to know your place. I want you to understand that you don’t belong in this world. You never will. And no amount of expensive dresses or salon appointments will change that.”

She stood up, smoothing down her dress.

“Enjoy your treatment, Leslie. Try not to get anything disgusting in your hair this time.”

Then she walked away, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

She didn’t actually have an appointment. She’d just come to torment Leslie.

And it had worked.

Leslie sat there, shaking, fighting back tears.

Simone returned with the treatment mixture. She took one look at Leslie’s face and frowned.

“That woman is poison,” Simone said quietly.

“I know,” Leslie whispered.

“Don’t let her get to you.”

But it was too late. Victoria had already gotten to her.

Leslie spent the rest of the appointment in silence, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

And wondering how much more of this she could take.

Meanwhile, 200 miles away, behind concrete walls and razor wire.