Chapter 3 - The Uninvited GuestHook for Facebook: My husband’s mistress text-shamed me from the VIP section of the gala, bragging that she was the new queen of the city. She didn't realize the entire hotel security team was currently bowing to the woman entering the lobby.
The Grand Euclid Hotel was surrounded by paparazzi and flashing lights. The city’s elite—politicians, billionaires, and CEOs—were all filing into the grand ballroom.
When my motorcade of three armored Rolls-Royces pulled up directly to the red carpet, the photographers stopped snapping photos of a local senator. The security guards at the entrance immediately stood at attention. The manager of the hotel, recognizing the Harrell family crest on the cars, ran down the steps himself to open my door.
As I stepped out, the flashing lights became blinding. The whispers started instantly. “Who is that?” “Look at that necklace! Is that the Harrell diamond?” “She looks like royalty!”
I ignored the cameras, walking with perfect posture up the steps. The hotel manager bowed deeply. “Welcome, Miss Harrell. Your father is already in the private penthouse suite. He requested that you enter the main ballroom at your leisure.”
“Thank you, Marcus,” I said smoothly. “Keep my arrival quiet for just a few moments.”
Inside the grand ballroom, the atmosphere was suffocatingly opulent. I stood on the upper mezzanine, looking down at the crowd. It didn't take long to spot Spencer and Paisley. They were standing near the center bar, surrounded by several prominent board members of the Conway Group.
Spencer looked incredibly pleased with himself, swirling his scotch as he spoke to Mr. Vance, an older billionaire whose investment Spencer desperately needed to save his company’s failing Q3 margins. Paisley was clinging to his arm like a trophy, occasionally interrupting the men with high-pitched laughs.
“Yes, Mr. Vance,” Spencer was saying, his voice carrying over the soft jazz music. “The Conway Group is looking to expand, and with the right backing tonight, we will secure the Apex contract.”
“And who is this lovely lady?” Mr. Vance asked, looking at Paisley. “I thought you were married, Spencer?”
Paisley spoke up before Spencer could answer. “Oh, Spencer’s ex-wife—well, practically his ex—is a very simple homebody, Mr. Vance. She doesn't really fit into... our world. She lacks the class for events like this. Spencer brought me because a powerful man needs a powerful woman by his side.”
Spencer smiled warmly at Paisley, patting her hand. “Paisley is right. My wife... prefers to stay in the background. She would only embarrass us here.”
From the mezzanine, my grip on the railing tightened. Embarrass them?
I took a deep breath, adjusted the heavy diamond on my neck, and began my descent down the grand marble staircase. The heels of my shoes clicked sharply against the stone, a rhythmic sound that somehow cut through the chatter of the room.
One by one, heads began to turn. The whispers followed me down like a wave.
“Look at the staircase...” “My god, who is that woman?”
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Spencer, hearing the sudden shift in the room's energy, turned around. Paisley turned too, a smug smile still plastered on her face.
But as I stepped into the light of the main chandelier, Spencer’s smile completely froze. The glass of scotch in his hand trembled, the ice cubes clinking loudly against the glass. His eyes widened in absolute, terrifying disbelief.
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