Chapter 5 - SLOANE’S TRUE COLORS
Locked inside the guest bedroom of a downtown luxury hotel,
Sloane paced the floor like a caged animal.
Her phone was blowing up with death threats and hostile messages from angry Whitmore loyalists.
The media had published her entire life story,
exposing her past as a professional social climber.
Every high-end boutique and exclusive country club had blacklisted her name permanently.
She realized that Grant was finished,
bankrupt,
and stripped of his inheritance by his furious father.
The twenty-eight million dollars she expected to share with Grant was locked away in frozen accounts.
Panic turned into burning rage as she stared at her reflection in the gilded mirror.
She grabbed her designer handbag and dialed a private number she had memorized months ago.
It was Julian Sterling’s direct line,
the man who had supposedly promised her a secure future.
The phone rang three times before a smooth,
cold voice answered on the other end.
Sloane pitched her voice into a soft,
tearful whine,
playing the helpless victim once again.
She reminded Julian that she was carrying his unborn twins,
expecting him to welcome her with open arms.
Julian’s low,
cruel laughter echoed through the phone speaker,
freezing the blood in her veins.
He told her plainly that she was never anything more than a disposable chess piece in his game.
Sloane shrieked in absolute fury,
threatening to expose his plot to the federal authorities and the press.
Julian calmly informed her that all her communications with him were heavily encrypted and legally protected.
Furthermore,
she was reminded that she signed a non-disclosure agreement with his shell company weeks ago.
If she uttered a single word,
she would spend the next twenty years rotting in a federal prison.
Julian hung up the phone without another word,
leaving her drowning in her own bitter betrayal.
Sloane hurled her phone against the wall,
shattering it into a hundred useless plastic pieces.
She fell to her knees on the plush carpet,
weeping tears of pure,
May you like
unadulterated despair as the walls closed in.
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