The Mistress’s Regret After Demanding I Kneel and Apologize

The woman saw my expression harden, and her smirk turned even more vicious.

"What, scared? You should feel lucky I spilled my drink on you. It's probably the closest someone like you will ever get to the Winslow family. I could have made you wipe my shoes clean in front of everyone. Consider yourself lucky I have class."

I've never been one for public confrontations, but her arrogance was beyond absurd.

"You're the one in the wrong," I said coldly. "Even if you really do come from old money, you don't get to make someone else apologize for your bad behavior."

"Because I am Mrs. Winslow!" She slapped her handbag against her lap. "I am Vera Rossi! Who in East Harbor society hasn't heard of my name? Forget an apology. I could have you thrown off this flight, and no one would stop me."

When I heard that name, it finally clicked.

Vera Rossi had gained a modest following on social media by flaunting her bay-front villa, private chef, and charity gala invitations.

I couldn't care less about what was real or fake online, but the moment she started riding my family name to prop herself up, I wasn't about to let it slide.

I scoffed. "Winslow Holdings? Then do you even know the name of Winslow Holdings' current executive director?"

Seeing that I'd brought it up, she immediately put on her lofty airs. "Of course. Noah Grant. My husband. How could I not know?"

Looking at the certainty on her face, the last shred of hope inside me shattered.

My husband, the man who had married into the Winslow family, had been cheating on me behind my back.

He'd even been passing off the company my grandfather left behind as his own kingdom.

I swallowed the fury rising inside me. "Funny. I've heard that the heir to Winslow Holdings has the last name Winslow. I've never heard of anyone named Grant claiming to represent the entire family."

Vera folded her arms and laughed dismissively.

"Real insider information would never reach a woman who makes a living clinging to rich men. Noah keeps a low profile to protect the family from gold diggers trying to latch on to old money."

I caught her implication and frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She pointed at the photo on my laptop screen, a picture of me and my father at the equestrian club, then let her gaze travel from my heels to my coat.

"You're wearing some no-name vintage coat, yet you're sitting in first class. And in that photo, you're cozying up to an older man with a big smile. What does that make you but some rich man's kept woman? If I were you, I'd hide my face instead of flaunting myself like this."

The coat I was wearing had been made by a bespoke tailor in London, cut from a pattern my mother left behind, with every button hand-carved. That single coat was worth more than every flashy designer label on Vera's body combined.

My father despised the media. He never gave public interviews, and his face was nearly impossible to find anywhere online.

I never imagined any of that would become, in her eyes, evidence that I was being kept.

"Watch your mouth." I locked eyes with her. "Come after me if you want, but don't you dare insult my father."

Vera clapped a hand over her mouth in exaggerated amusement.

"Listen to this. This bitch is calling her sugar daddy 'Dad' right here in first class."

Whispers rippled through the cabin.

Not far away, a middle-aged woman wearing a pearl necklace who looked vaguely familiar stood up and shot me a look of disgust.

"Mrs. Grant, don't let yourself get worked up over this kind of woman. You'd only be lowering yourself."

Vera and I both turned to look at her.

Vera frowned. "And you are?"

The woman immediately plastered on an ingratiating smile. "I'm Patricia Howard, with Howard Real Estate. You may not remember me. My husband's company recently submitted a proposal to the Winslow East Harbor division for the South Shore waterfront redevelopment project."

Her words jogged my memory.

Howard Real Estate had been chasing that project for the better part of a year. Right before I boarded this flight, I'd been ready to choose between them and another developer.

Now, that decision had just made itself.

Vera clearly knew nothing about any of this.

Her eyes flickered for a moment before she said in a languid drawl, "So you're Mrs. Howard."

Mrs. Howard chimed in at once.

"Mrs. Grant, please don't stoop to her level. Girls these days refuse to earn an honest living. They use a pretty face to worm their way into high society. She probably knew exactly who you were and picked this fight on purpose, hoping to catch Mr. Grant's attention."

I turned to her, my voice flat.

"Mrs. Howard, are you sure you want to take that tone with me? Because I'd think twice about whether Howard Real Estate's contract can survive it."