Chapter 4 - THE FALLOUT AT THE ALTAR
While I was claiming the throne,
the wedding was collapsing into a nightmare.
My phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Meredith.
'How could you?'
'You’re a monster.'
'Bradley is losing his mind.'
I ignored them all.
I had Nate bring me a coffee and a sandwich from the deli across the street.
I ate at the desk,
surrounded by the ghosts of my past.
Around midnight,
the phone rang again.
This time,
it wasn't a text.
It was a call from the police station.
I sighed and picked up.
“This is Catherine Hollister.”
“Ma’am,
we have a Bradley Jenkins in custody.
He was found attempting to break into the Hollister Heights residence.”
The residence.
The estate.
The one I had technically acquired as part of the corporate housing portfolio.
“Is there damage?”
I asked.
“He smashed a window,
ma’am.
He claims he lives there.”
“He doesn't,”
I said coldly.
“The property is owned by Everest Holdings.
Please proceed with the charges.”
I hung up.
The ruthlessness felt like a second skin now.
I knew that to the outside world,
I was the villain.
The daughter who ruined her sister’s wedding and put her brother-in-law in jail.
But the world hadn't seen the eight years of silence.
They hadn't seen the nights I spent crying in a studio apartment because I couldn't pay the heating bill while my father was buying Meredith a yacht.
They hadn't seen the way they looked at me during the rehearsal dinner,
like I was a stray dog they had invited in out of pity.
I opened a new file on the computer.
'Restructuring Plan.'
The first order of business was to liquidate the vanity projects.
The Hollister Foundation,
which was just a tax shelter for my father’s art collection.
The private jet lease.
The 'executive retreat' in Aspen that was really just a vacation home for Meredith.
I was going to strip the company down to its bones.
I was going to make it profitable again,
truly profitable,
not just a facade built on debt and reputation.
By 3:00 AM,
I was exhausted.
I walked out to the reception area,
where Nate was sleeping on a sofa.
I tapped his shoulder.
“Go home,
Nate.
I’ll stay here.”
He sat up,
rubbing his eyes.
“You sure?
The press is still downstairs.”
“I’m sure.
I want to be here when the sun comes up.”
He nodded,
grabbed his jacket,
and left.
I walked back to the window.
The city was starting to wake.
The first hints of blue were touching the horizon.
I thought about the gray dress I had worn to the wedding.
I had chosen it because it was the color of stone.
The color of something that doesn't break.
I realized then that I hadn't just bought a company.
I had bought a cage.
But as I looked at the desk,
at the power sitting there waiting for me to wield it,
I knew I would never let anyone lock me out again.
May you like
I was the architect now.
And I was going to build something that would outlast the name Hollister.
