Chapter 264
No.1
Elisa parked the borrowed sedan in the hidden underground garage of her private apartment. She grabbed her bag, walked into the quiet foyer, and tossed the heavy car keys onto a brass tray.
She pulled off her coat. She wvalked into the quiet kitchen, pulling a glass from the cabinet and filling it with ice water. She took a long drink, letting the freezing liquid numb her dry throat. The silence of the apartment was a stark contrast to the battlefield she was about to enter. She leaned against the marble counter, closing her eyes as she mentally mapped out the power dynamics of the Browning gala. Every guest, every alliance, every potential threat. Germaine wanted to use her as a prop, a desperate attempt to stabilize the Chambers'plummeting stock. August wanted to use her to stroke his own fractured ego. But they were both underestimating her. She wasn't the submissive wife anymore. She was a woman walking into the lion's den with a loaded gun.
She looked at the digital clock on the microwave. She had exactly four hours until the Browning gala began.
Elisa walked into her bedroom closet. She pushed past rows of plain, practical nursing scrubs until she reached the very back. She pulled out a long, black garment bag.
No.2
She unzipped the plastic. Inside hung a midnight blue velvet evening gown. The cut was severe and minimalist, exposing her collarbones while wrapping her body in heavy, luxuriousfabric.③
She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the gown. She pulled the hidden zipper up her side. She walked into the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the harsh vanity lights. The woman looking back was completely devoid of the soft, submissive warmth that had defined her marriage.
She walked back to her dresser. She opened her handbag and pulled out the black velvet box Thorne had given her.
She lifted the antique blue diamond brooch. The platinum felt cold against her fingertips. She pressed the'sharp pin through the thick velvet fabric near her
No.3
left collarbone, securing the clasp. The massive blue diamonds caught the bedroom light, throwing sharp blue reflections against the walls.
Elisa picked up her phone. She dialed August's private number to coordinate their arrival time.
The phone rang four times. Then, the automated voicemail recording clicked on.
Elisa's jaw tightened. She hung up and dialed again.It went straight to voicemail.
No.4
A text message notification popped onto her screen.It was from Brenda: The Madam wants to know why you have not departed. Do not embarrass us.
Elisa squeezed the phone until her knuckles turned white. August had no intention of sending a car for her. He was forcing her to attend the most exclusive event of the year, and he was deliberately abandoning her to face the wolves alone.
A surge of hot anger burned in her chest, quickly hardening into absolute ice. She shoved the phone into her small evening clutch.
She did not need his car. She did not need his arm.
No.5
Elisa·walked down to the underground garage and slid into the driver's seat of Thorne's borrowed black sedan. She pulled out onto the busy Manhattan streets, heading for the Midtown Tunnel. As she approached the expressway entrance, the car's radio suddenly cut out, replaced by the jarring tone of an emergency broadcast. "All traffic approaching the Midtown Tunnel is being diverted. A multi-vehicle pile-up involving a jackknifed tractor-trailer has completely shut down all lanes. Expect closures to last for several hours." Her navigation app instantly turned a solid, bloody red. There was no way through.
Elisa cursed under her breath, a sharp, frustrated sound. Waiting for the accident to clear or for Thorne's security to navigate the gridlock would make her an hour late-giving Germaine the perfect excuse to destroy the divorce decree. She swerved into the nearest public parking garage, left the sedan, and ran up to the street. She raced down two blocks to the nearest subway station, her heels clicking on the grimy pavement, and then emerged on the other side of the chaos, raising her hand to flag down a passing, battered yellow city cab.
She opened the door and slid onto the cracked vinyl seat. "Take me to the Browning Estate on Long Island."
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening at the sight of her haute couture gown and million-dollar diamonds in his cheap cab. He slammed the meter down and hit the gas.
No.6
An hour later, the cab pulled onto the private, tree-lined road leading to the Browning Estate. The driveway was jammed with a slow-moving line of black Rolls-Royces and armored Bentleys. The bright yellow cab sat in the middle of the luxury fleet like a glaring stain.
The cab stopped at the edge of the red carpet. Elisa handed the driver a fifty-dollar bill.
She pushed the door open. She stepped out into the flashing lights of the society photographers.
Dozens of wealthy guests stopped and stared.Whispers erupted instantly as they processed the sight of a woman in haute couture stepping out of public transit.
No.7
Elisa ignored the burning stares. She kept her spine
perfectly straight, her chin lifted high, and walked directly toward the massive oak doors of the estate.