Chapter 4 - THE ASCENT TO THE PRESIDENTIAL PENTHOUSE
The lobby erupted into quiet gasps and murmurs,
phones being whipped out instantly to record every second of the spectacular downfall.
Richard’s knees buckled,
and the heavyweight real estate tycoon of Chicago dropped to the cold marble floor right beside my scattered maternity clothes.
Claire,
Richard whispered,
his voice trembling as he reached out a desperate, clawing hand toward my ankles,
my love,
it was a misunderstanding,
I was stressed,
the market was crashing,
I didn't know.
Please, tell Mrs. Crawford it was just a marital dispute.
I looked down at the man who had made my life a living hell for three years,
the man who had laughed while I picked up my pajamas in front of fifty strangers.
I stepped back out of his reach.
You told me it wasn't your problem anymore, Richard,
I said quietly,
remember.
Eleanor stepped forward,
wrapping her warm, cashmere-clad arms around my shoulders.
Come, my darling,
Eleanor whispered softly,
let's get you upstairs,
Dr. Alpert is already waiting in the presidential penthouse,
and you and my grandchild are going to be treated like royalty from this second forward.
Two female hotel executives rushed forward with pristine velvet robes and warm slippers,
gently shielding me from the staring crowd.
As the private elevator doors slid open,
I glanced back one last time,
watching Richard Sterling still on his knees on the marble floor,
surrounded by my old sweaters and nursing bras,
weeping like a broken child.
May you like
The brass doors closed,
shutting him out of my world forever.
