Chapter 3 - The Parasite’s DemandWhen a mistress realizes the wealth she chased was never his to begin with, her loyalty dissolves in seconds.
1:00 p.m.
The penthouse suite at the Four Seasons Hotel was quiet, scented with fresh orchids and luxury candles.
Victoria Sinclair sat on the edge of a plush velvet sofa, wearing a silk robe, scrolling furiously through social media. Her phone had been blowing up for six hours with hateful comments, news inquiries, and paparazzi calls.
The electronic lock clicked, and Ambrose walked into the suite using his master key card.
He looked ruined. His hair was disheveled, his suit jacket was missing, and his shoulders were slumped in total defeat.
Victoria jumped up, her initial expression of concern instantly souring into annoyance. "Ambrose! Where have you been?! Do you have any idea what’s happening out there?! Photographers are waiting outside my building!"
Ambrose didn't look at her. He walked straight to the mini-bar, poured himself a glass of water, and swallowed three aspirin. "I told you to stay inside, Victoria."
"Stay inside?!" Victoria shrieked, walking over and grabbing his arm. "My name is being dragged through the dirt on national television! People are calling me a home-wrecker! You promised me that if Jacqueline ever found out, you’d protect me! You said you owned half of Manhattan!"
Ambrose pulled his arm away with a tired, disgusted glare. "I don't own anything right now, Victoria. Jacqueline froze every account tied to my name. My board is holding a vote right now to fire me as CEO."
Victoria stopped cold, her eyes widening in pure disbelief. "What...? What do you mean she froze your accounts? What about the apartment in Miami you promised to put in my name next week?"
Ambrose let out a dry, bitter laugh. "The Miami apartment was purchased through a subsidiary of the Harringford Trust. The closing has been canceled."
Victoria’s mouth dropped open. The sweet, loving demeanor she had maintained for the past six months vanished in an instant, replaced by a sharp, calculating anger.
"Are you telling me you don't actually have your own money?!" she demanded, her voice rising to a shrill pitch. "You were living off your wife’s family trust this whole time?!"
"I built Blackwell Enterprises!" Ambrose shouted back, his pride flaring up despite his desperation. "I made those investments grow!"
"Because she gave you the capital!" Victoria spat back, stepping away from him in total disgust. "You lied to me! You told me she was just a boring housewife who sat at home while you made billions!"
"She was my wife!" Ambrose yelled, tears finally stinging his eyes as the full weight of his hypocrisy hit him. "She was faithful to me! She carried my baby! And I threw her away for someone who only cared about the size of my black card!"
Victoria sneered, picking up her designer handbag from the chair. "Don't get dramatic with me, Ambrose. You were the one who bought the champagne. If you can't even cover my hotel bill, we have nothing left to say."
She snatched her coat and walked toward the door.
"Victoria, wait—" Ambrose called out, stepping forward.
May you like
She turned at the door, giving him a cold, mocking look. "Don't bother calling me again. And by the way... your wife is ten times the woman I'll ever be. At least she was smart enough to ruin you before you ruined her."
The heavy door slammed shut, leaving Ambrose standing alone in the silent, overpriced hotel room.
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