Chapter 8 - THE MISTRESS’S RETREAT
While Julian was drowning in legal fees, Mia attempted one final desperation move.
She showed up at my main spa on a busy Friday afternoon, wearing a plain sweatshirt and looking fragile.
She thought she could use public pressure against me.
She walked straight up to the reception desk, where three high-paying clients were waiting.
“Mrs. Caldwell!” she cried out, her voice loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. “Please! I have nowhere to go! You kicked me out without my wages!”
The room went completely silent.
I stepped out of my private office, taking in the scene without a single flicker of emotion.
I didn't yell.
I didn't look flustered.
I walked over to the front counter, picked up an envelope, and held it out to her.
“Your final check for your domestic work is right here, Mia,” I said calmly, my voice carrying clearly across the lobby. “Calculated down to the last hour. Minus the six thousand dollars of designer clothing you stole from my guest room closet.”
Mia’s face drained of color.
I pulled out my phone and displayed a clear screenshot from the hidden camera, showing her stuffing my cashmere sweaters into her duffel bag three weeks ago.
The clients in the waiting room gasped, whispering among themselves.
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“If you don't leave my property in ten seconds,” I added softly, “the security guard will hand this footage to the officer standing right across the street.”
Mia grabbed the envelope, turned on her heel, and ran out the glass doors, never to be seen in the city again.
