Chapter 9 - The Mistress Came to My Door
Sloane arrived at my house during a thunderstorm.
She was soaked.
Her makeup ran down her face.
Her silver engagement ring was gone.
Daniel had proposed to her the night before the gala.
She had believed she would become Mrs. Hart before the baby was born.
Now Daniel was blaming her for everything.
I opened the door but did not invite her inside.
“He said Northstar was legal,” she whispered.
“You forged my signature.”
“He told me you had agreed.”
“You changed my medication.”
“He said the pills were harmless.”
“You watched me become confused in my own home.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I loved him.”
“So did I.”
“I thought he would choose me.”
“He did.”
I folded my arms.
“You just misunderstood what he was choosing you for.”
Sloane placed both hands over her stomach.
“My lawyer says I could go to prison.”
“That is possible.”
“You can stop it.”
“No.”
“You control the foundation.”
“I do.”
“You can say the transfers were authorized.”
“They weren’t.”
Her expression changed.
The fear disappeared.
Anger replaced it.
“You owe me.”
I almost laughed.
“For what?”
“I stood beside you through everything.”
“You slept with my husband.”
“You were never there for him.”
“And that made poisoning me acceptable?”
“We did not poison you.”
“You altered medication without my consent.”
Her face tightened.
“Daniel said it was necessary.”
“Daniel also told you he loved you.”
“He does.”
“Then why are you standing here alone?”
The rain grew heavier.
Sloane’s shoulders began to shake.
“I have nowhere to go.”
“You have family.”
“They know everything.”
“So does mine.”
“You’re really going to let the father of my child go to prison?”
“I’m not sending him anywhere.”
I stepped back from the doorway.
“His choices are.”
She stared at me with pure hatred.
“You’re cruel.”
“Maybe.”
I began closing the door.
“But I learned from people I trusted.”
She pressed one hand against it.
“Please.”
For six months, I had imagined this moment.
I had pictured myself laughing.
I had expected satisfaction.
Instead, I felt empty.
That emptiness did not change my answer.
“No.”
May you like
I closed the door.
And I never opened it for her again.
