Chapter 6: The Walk of Shame
The ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the hallway sounded like a judge’s gavel striking wood, marking the final seconds of Julian’s manufactured reality.
"Twenty minutes, Mia," I repeated, my voice devoid of any emotion. I didn't yell. I didn't cry. I was completely, terrifyingly hollowed out, replaced by a cold, calculating machine that only understood one language: eviction.
"You can't do this!" Beatrice shrieked, finally breaking out of her stunned paralysis. She marched toward me, her face flushed with indignity, the diamond necklace I had bought her glittering under the chandelier. "She is a young girl! It's the middle of the night! You are a monster, Harper! Julian, say something to your wife!"
Julian remained rooted to the floor. He was staring at the legal documents I had left on the dining table, his eyes darting across the thick, watermarked pages that outlined his financial execution.
"Julian!" Beatrice demanded, grabbing his arm. "Are you going to let her treat us this way?"
He slowly looked up, his face a mask of pure devastation. "Mom... shut up."
Beatrice gasped, clutching her pearls in a gesture so theatrical it belonged on a soap opera. "Excuse me?"
"She has everything," Julian whispered, his voice trembling as he looked at his mother. "She has the accounts. She has the house. She has the post-nup. If we fight her tonight, she’ll call the police. And it will be in the morning papers."
Mia let out a strangled, pathetic sob. She looked at Julian, her large dark eyes searching for the powerful, confident man who had been stroking her shoulder in the master bathtub just hours ago. She was waiting for him to save her. She was waiting for the prince to banish the evil queen.
But Julian wouldn't even look at her.
"Mia," I said, checking the face of my gold Cartier watch. "You now have fourteen minutes."
The reality of the situation finally crashed down on the twenty-one-year-old girl. With a horrified wail, she turned and sprinted up the grand staircase toward the guest suite.
I followed her at a slow, measured pace, my heels clicking sharply against the hardwood. I was not going to let her out of my sight.
When I reached the doorway of her bedroom, she was frantically pulling garments out of the mahogany closet. She reached for a cashmere sweater I had purchased for her in Aspen.
"No," I said from the doorway, leaning casually against the frame.
Mia jumped, dropping the sweater as if it burned her.
"That was purchased with my American Express," I said smoothly. "You leave with what you brought. The faded jeans. The oversized hoodies. The worn sneakers. Nothing else."
"Mrs. Caldwell, please," Mia begged, tears streaming down her perfectly contoured face—makeup she bought using the allowance I gave her. "I have nowhere to go. I don't have enough money for a hotel."
"What about the twenty-five thousand dollars Julian wired to your brother?" I asked, tilting my head. "Or did your family spend it already?"
Mia swallowed hard, her face draining of color. "I... I just wanted a better life. You don't know what it's like, being invisible. Having nothing."
"I know exactly what it's like," I replied, my voice dropping to a whisper. "I studied under cheap desk lamps. I counted pennies at the grocery store. But I built my empire with my own hands. I didn't try to steal it by sleeping in another woman's bed."
I pointed to the worn canvas duffel bag in the corner of the room. "Pack."
It took her exactly six minutes to gather the meager belongings she had arrived with. When she finally zipped the bag shut, she looked entirely different. Stripped of the designer clothes, the silk blouses, and the expensive perfumes, she was no longer the polished, confident mistress sipping Cristal champagne. She was just a frightened, deceitful girl in a faded sweatshirt.
"The necklace," I demanded, holding out my hand.
Mia hesitated, her hand flying to her throat. "Julian gave this to me. It was a gift."
"Purchased with funds embezzled from my corporate accounts," I corrected her. "Take it off, Mia. Or I will have the police officer at the gate rip it off your neck as evidence."
With shaking hands, she unclasped the diamond pendant and dropped it into my waiting palm. It felt cold against my skin.
I escorted her down the stairs. Julian and Beatrice were waiting in the foyer. Beatrice was glaring at me with unfiltered hatred, while Julian kept his eyes glued to the marble floor.
"Julian?" Mia whimpered, pausing at the front door. She looked at him with desperate, pleading eyes. "Aren't you... aren't you coming with me? We can go to the apartment you leased."
Julian squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't, Mia. The lawyers are freezing the shell company. I can't be seen with you right now. Just... just go. I'll call you."
The betrayal on Mia’s face was cinematic. The realization that she was nothing more than a disposable accessory to a man who only cared about saving his own skin hit her like a physical blow. She let out a dry, hacking sob, pushed open the heavy oak door, and walked out into the cold night air.
I watched her drag her duffel bag down the long, illuminated driveway toward the iron gates, where the flashing red and blue lights of a private security patrol car waited to escort her off the premises.
I closed the door, the heavy lock clicking into place with absolute finality.
I turned back to Julian and Beatrice.
"As for you two," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "You have until 8:00 AM to vacate the guest wing. Beatrice, your flight back to Boston has been booked for 10:00 AM. A taxi will be here at 7:30 to collect you both."
Julian looked up, panic flaring in his eyes. "Where am I supposed to go, Harper? My name is on this house!"
May you like
"Your name is contingent on a fidelity clause you violated on high-definition video," I reminded him. "You can sleep in a hotel. You can sleep in your office. I frankly do not care. But if you are still in my house at 8:01 AM, I am pressing trespassing charges."
I didn't wait for his response. I turned and walked up the stairs, leaving them standing in the ruins of the life they had tried to steal from me.
