I was slapped by his mistress in front of 300 guests, yet he took her side: ‘Touch her, and we’re getting a divorce!’- I slapped her 10 times and did one thing that made him froze in shock.
My husband’s mistress slapped me in front of three hundred guests, and when I looked to him for help, he said, “Touch her, and we’re getting divorced.” So I struck back, then made one phone call that drained every drop of color from his face.
The blow landed so sharply that my head snapped to the side before my mind fully understood what had happened. For one frozen second, all I could hear was the ringing in my ears and the sudden, brutal silence that swallowed the grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel. My left cheek burned like fire beneath my palm, and somewhere in front of me, a woman I had never seen before stood with her chin raised, looking as pleased with herself as if she had just won a crown.
Three hundred people had seen it. Three hundred members of New York’s business elite, gathered beneath crystal chandeliers at the anniversary gala of Legacy Holdings, had watched a young woman appear from the crowd and slap me, Harper Thorne, the legal wife of the company’s CEO, across the face. I stumbled back, catching the edge of a banquet table just in time, and my hand knocked over a tall crystal glass, sending red wine across the white tablecloth in a spreading stain that looked far too much like blood.
The whispers began almost immediately, soft at first, then sharper as people realized the entertainment had not been arranged as part of the evening program. Someone gasped near the champagne tower. Someone else murmured my name. Others simply stared with jeweled hands wrapped around their glasses, too fascinated by the scandal to remember they were supposed to be horrified.
I slowly lifted my head and looked at the woman standing in front of me. She was in her early twenties, dressed in a limited-edition haute couture gown that shimmered under the ballroom lights, with a diamond necklace resting against her throat that was worth no less than three million dollars. Her makeup was flawless, her posture proud, and her eyes held the bright triumph of someone who believed she had just claimed a place that already belonged to her.
Behind her stood my husband.
Carter Thorne, CEO of Legacy Holdings, business prodigy, society favorite, the man countless women had once whispered about as New York’s most desirable bachelor. He did not step forward to support me. He did not ask if I was hurt, did not even glance at the red mark rising across my cheek. His eyes were fixed entirely on the woman before me, filled with a tenderness I had never seen directed at me in five years of marriage.
“I took that slap for myself,” the young woman announced, shaking out her hand as if my face had inconvenienced her. Her voice carried clearly through the stunned ballroom, confident and bright, as though what she had done was perfectly natural. “You’ve occupied the seat of Carter’s wife for five years. It’s time you stepped aside.”
I pressed my palm harder against my burning cheek and stared her down. “Who the hell are you?” My voice came out calm enough to surprise me, though my pulse was hammering so violently I could feel it in my throat. The woman smiled wider, then looped her arm through Carter’s and pressed herself against him like she belonged there.
“My name is Madison,” she said. “Carter loves me. If you value whatever shreds of dignity you have left, sign the divorce papers quietly and don’t make a scene.” Her perfume floated toward me, expensive and sweet, and for a moment I thought of all the boardrooms, hospital rooms, late nights, and sacrifices that had built the stage she was now using to humiliate me. Then I looked past her, directly at Carter.
Finally, Carter shifted his gaze to my face. There was no guilt there, no sympathy, no shock at seeing his wife publicly insulted under his company’s name and beneath his family’s banner. There was only irritation, as if I had become an unpleasant delay in an evening he expected to control.
“Harper,” he said, his tone flat and cold, “don’t make a scene.” Those five words hit me almost harder than the slap itself. His mistress had just struck me in front of three hundred guests, and my husband’s first concern was that I might embarrass him by reacting.
I clenched my fist so tightly my manicured nails bit into my palm. “Carter, are you just going to stand there and watch?” Around us, the ballroom had turned into a theater of polished cruelty, every person waiting to see whether I would collapse, scream, or beg him to remember who I was. Carter frowned slightly, as if even my question was an inconvenience.
“Madison is pregnant,” he said. “Her emotions are all over the place right now. Just let it go.” Pregnant. Let it go. The words cracked through me with such force that something inside my mind went suddenly and dangerously quiet.
For five years, I had given my blood, sweat, and dignity to Legacy Holdings. When Carter’s father died and the company’s stock began to fall like a stone, I was the one who used my family’s connections to secure a three-hundred-million-dollar bailout. When corporate vultures circled Carter, waiting for him to make one wrong move, I was the one who sat beside him in meetings until three in the morning, drinking with clients, negotiating with directors, and pushing myself so hard that one night I ended up in the ER with a bleeding ulcer.
Half of everything Legacy had become existed because of me. More importantly, I personally held fifty-one percent of the company’s voting shares, transferred to me by Carter’s father on his deathbed. The old man had gripped my hand with what little strength he had left and whispered, “Harper, Carter is a boy with grand ambitions, but sometimes he does stupid things. I’m trusting the fate of Legacy to you. I’ll rest easier this way.”
I had cried beside that hospital bed and promised I would protect his life’s work. I had meant it then. But now his son, my husband, was letting his pregnant mistress slap me under the company chandeliers while telling me to just let it go.
I took a slow breath, forcing my voice not to tremble. “Carter, I’m asking you one last time. Are you choosing her or me?” Madison immediately clung to his lapel, her eyes filling with perfect theatrical tears. “Carter, look at her,” she whimpered. “She’s threatening me. She’s threatening us.”
Carter wrapped one arm around Madison’s shoulders and looked at me like I was a stranger throwing a meaningless tantrum in the middle of his important event. “Harper, if you lay a single finger on Madison, we’re getting divorced.” He said it calmly, almost casually, as if he were discussing the catering menu rather than ending five years of marriage in front of everyone who mattered in our world.
Whispers broke out around us, spreading from table to table like sparks through dry grass. “Oh my God, Mr. Thorne just admitted it in front of everyone,” someone breathed. Another voice murmured, “Who is this Madison girl?” while someone else whispered, “Didn’t you hear him? They’re getting divorced. Looks like the spot of Mrs. Thorne is opening up.”
I heard every word. My heart clenched as if an iron fist had closed around it, but I did not cry. I had thought five years of marriage deserved at least a drop of respect, at least the courtesy of private betrayal, but apparently, in Carter’s eyes, I was not worth even a strand of his mistress’s hair.
Divorce.
Fine.
I would show him what a real divorce looked like.
I straightened slowly, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and looked at Madison’s triumphant face. “You said you’re pregnant?” She pushed her stomach forward, though there was no visible bump, and gave me a smug little smile. “Yes. It’s Carter’s, so you’d better be smart and pack your bags out of the Thorne penthouse.”
“I see,” I said, nodding once. “Carter’s baby. Are you sure?” Madison’s expression faltered for the first time, just a quick flash of panic before she covered it with arrogance. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing,” I said softly. “It’s just that I think your slap was a little weak.” The second the words left my mouth, my arm moved in a clean, powerful arc, and my palm struck Madison across the face with all the strength I had held back for five years.
The sound cracked through the ballroom.
Madison shrieked and staggered sideways, and Carter moved frantically to catch her, his face twisting with rage. “Harper, have you lost your damn mind?” he shouted, but I barely heard him. The room, the guests, the chandeliers, the years of humiliation, all of it narrowed into one cold point of clarity.
I struck back again. “That’s for your shamelessness.” Another blow followed, sharp and decisive. “That’s for wrecking a home.” Then another. “That’s for using someone else’s power to humiliate people.”
Every word landed with a strike. Madison tried to turn away, her perfect hair coming loose, her makeup streaking as tears and shock cracked through her confidence. I caught her by the hair just enough to stop her from escaping, not because I wanted a brawl, but because I wanted her to understand that public humiliation did not belong only to women too polite to answer back.
“Harper, stop it!” Carter lunged forward, but I shoved him back with my heel and kept my focus on the woman who had walked into my life wearing diamonds bought by the empire I had helped save. The ballroom stayed frozen, nobody daring to intervene, nobody daring to decide which side was safe until they knew who would still have power after the storm. By the time I finished, Madison was sobbing against Carter’s arm, her face swollen, her triumph gone.
Ten slaps.
She had said she hit me for herself.
I had returned the favor with interest.
Dead silence filled the ballroom. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Carter held Madison upright, his face purple with rage, his eyes fixed on me as if he wanted to burn me alive with the force of his hatred. “Harper, you are finished,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “My lawyers will contact you tomorrow about the divorce. You won’t get a single red cent.”
I shook out my numb hand, then reached calmly into my designer clutch and pulled out my phone. “A divorce?” I asked, looking directly at him. “Do you actually think Legacy Holdings will still be yours after the divorce?”
Carter froze.
Right in front of him, I dialed a number and put the call on speaker. After two rings, a calm, distinguished male voice answered. “Harper,” he said.
“Good evening, Charles,” I replied. My voice was steady now, almost peaceful, and that seemed to frighten Carter more than anger ever could have. “I am selling all my fifty-one percent shares in Legacy Holdings at market value. Execute the sale immediately.”
Carter’s face drained of color so quickly it was almost astonishing. “Harper, are you insane?” He dropped Madison’s arm as if she no longer weighed anything and lunged toward me, but I stepped back with a cold smile. “When you told me to let it go, you clearly didn’t think I would be insane.”
On the other end of the line, Charles Montgomery, the family’s senior attorney, was clearly stunned, but his professional composure returned almost instantly. “Harper, fifty-one percent of the shares at current market valuation is roughly four-point-one billion dollars,” he said carefully. “Are you certain?”
I looked at Carter, at Madison, at the guests who had watched me be humiliated and were now witnessing the cost of that silence.
“Absolutely certain.”
The blow was sharp and brutal. My head snapped to the side, my ears ringing. My left cheek burned like fire. The entire grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel instantly fell silent. Everyone saw it. At the anniversary gala of Legacy Holdings, in the presence of over 300 members of New York’s Basa Business Elite, a young woman who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere had just slapped me, the wife of the company’s CEO, right across the face.
I lost my footing stumbling back. Only by grabbing the edge of the banquet table did I miraculously keep from falling. My hand knocked over a tall crystal glass and red wine spilled across the pristine white tablecloth spreading like blood. The eyes of the entire room were glued to me. Someone gasped. Whispers erupted while others simply watched the show with champagne flutes in hand.
I slowly raised my head and looked at the arrogant woman standing before me. She was in her early 20s. She wore a limited edition oat couture gown and around her neck rested a diamond necklace worth no less than $3 million. Beneath her flawless makeup, her eyes were full of triumph. She stood there, her chin slightly raised like a peacock that had just won a duel.
Behind her stood my husband, the man I had been married to for 5 years. Carter Thorne, CEO of Legacy Holdings, a business prodigy, the dream of countless women, a wealthy and highly coveted bachelor. He didn’t step forward to support me. He didn’t even glance in my direction. His eyes were fixed entirely on this woman filled with a tenderness I had never seen.
A tenderness he had never shown me his lawful wife. I took that slap for myself. The young woman shook her hand out. Her voice rang out clear as if what she had done was the most natural thing in the world. You’ve occupied the seat of Carter’s wife for 5 years. It’s time you stepped aside.
I pressed my hand to my burning cheeks, staring her down. Who the hell are you? My name is Madison. She looped her arm through Carter’s pressing her body against him. Carter loves me. If you value whatever shreds of dignity you have left, sign the divorce papers quietly. Don’t make a scene. I looked at Carter. Finally, he shifted his gaze to my face.
But in his eyes, there was no guilt, no sympathy, only irritation. Harper, don’t make a scene, he said. Don’t make a scene. His mistress had just publicly slapped me, and he was telling me not to make a scene. I clenched my fist so hard, my manicured nails bit into my palms. Carter, are you just going to stand there and watch? He frowned, his tone ice cold. Madison is pregnant.
Her emotions are all over the place right now. Just let it go. Pregnant? Let it go. I heard something snap inside my head. For the past 5 years, I had given my blood, sweat, and tears to Legacy Holdings. When Carter’s father died, the company’s stock plummeted. It was I who used my family’s connections to secure a $300 million bailout.
When Carter was surrounded by corporate vultures, it was I who accompanied him to business meetings until 3 in the morning, drinking with clients until I ended up in the ER with a bleeding ulcer. Half of everything Legacy was today was because of me. I held 51% of the company’s voting shares personally transferred to me by Carter’s father on his deathbed.
The old man had held my hand and said, “Harper Carter is a boy with grand ambitions, but sometimes he does stupid things. I’m trusting the fate of legacy to you. I’ll rest easier this way.” I had cried and nodded, swearing to protect his legacy. And now his son, my husband, was letting his mistress strike me across the face and telling me to just let it go.
I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice from trembling. Carter, I’m asking you one last time. Are you choosing her or me? Madison immediately clung to his lapel, her eyes welling up with fake tears. Carter, look how she’s threatening me. She’s threatening you. Carter wrapped an arm around Madison’s shoulders and looked at me like I was a stranger throwing a meaningless tantrum.
Harper, if you lay a single finger on Madison, were getting a divorce. He said it with such a calm tone, as if he were discussing the catering menu. Whispers broke out around us. Oh my god, Mr. Thorne just admitted to an affair in front of everyone. Who is this Madison girl? She’s gorgeous, but still just a home wrecker.
I feel so bad for his wife. Why didn’t you hear Thorne? They’re getting a divorce. Looks like the spot of Mrs. Thorne is opening up. I heard every word, and my heart clenched in agony as if squeezed by an iron fist. But I didn’t cry. I had thought that 5 years of marriage deserved at least a drop of respect.
But apparently, in his eyes, I wasn’t even worth a strand of his mistress’s hair. divorce. Fine, I’ll show you what a real divorce looks like. I slowly straightened up, tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and looked at Madison’s triumphant face. “You said you’re pregnant,” I asked her. She stuck out her stomach, though there wasn’t a bump in sight. “Yes, it’s Carter’s.
” “So, you’d better be smart and pack your bags out of the Thorn penthouse.” “I see.” I nodded. “Carter’s baby. Are you sure?” Madison’s expression faltered. “What do you mean nothing?” I smiled. It’s just that I think your slap was a little weak. The second the words left my mouth, my arms swung in a violent arc, and I slapped Madison across the face with everything I had. Smack.
The sound echoed through the ballroom 10 times louder than the first. Madison shrieked and collapsed to the side. Carter frantically caught her. Harper, have you lost your damn mind? He roared. I ignored him, wound up, and swung again. Smack. That’s for your shamelessness. Smack. That’s for wrecking a home. Smack.
That’s for using someone else’s power to humiliate people. Every word was punctuated by a vicious slap. Madison’s flawless hair was a rat’s nest. Her makeup smeared across her face. Tears mixed with her foundation, turning her into a pathetic, sobbing mess. She tried to dodge, but I grabbed a fistful of her hair, refusing to let her escape. Harper, stop it.
Carter lunged at me to intervene. I shoved him back with my heel and kept swinging. Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack. I delivered the last five blows in rapid succession. Madison’s face swelled up like a balloon. A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. 10 slaps. She said she hit me for herself.
Well, I just showed her what it meant to return a favor with 10 times the interest. Dead silence fell over the ballroom. Nobody dared to speak. Nobody dared to approach. Carter held up Madison, who could barely stand. His face was purple with rage. He looked at me as if he wanted to eat me alive. Harper, you are finished. He hissed through clenched teeth.
My lawyers will contact you tomorrow about the divorce. You won’t get a single red scent. I shook out my numb hand and pulled my phone from my designer clutch. A divorce? I looked at Carter. Do you actually think Legacy Holdings will still be yours after the divorce? He froze. Right in front of him, I dialed a number and put it on speakerphone.
After two rings, a calm, distinguished male voice answered, “Harper. Good evening, Charles. I am selling all my 51% shares in Legacy Holdings at market value, I said. Execute the sale immediately. Carter’s face instantly drained of color. Harper, are you insane? He dropped Madison and lunged toward me. I stepped back with a cold smirk.
When you told me to let it go, you clearly didn’t think I’d be insane. On the other end of the line, Charles Montgomery, the family’s senior attorney, was clearly stunned, but quickly regained his composure. Harper 51% of the shares at current market valuation. That’s roughly $4.1 billion. Are you certain? Absolutely certain.
Find a buyer immediately. The price doesn’t matter. The deal must be closed today. Harper, you can’t do this. Carter’s voice cracked. This is a Thorn family matter. This is what my father left you. What your father left me is mine. If I want to sell it, I’ll sell it. What does that have to do with you? Madison had stopped crying.
Covering her swollen face with her hand, she stared at me with wide eyes, clearly just beginning to process what was happening. 4.1 billion, 51% of Legacy’s shares. If those shares fell into a rival’s hands, Carter, despite being CEO, would be a glorified puppet. He only held 30% of the shares. He had no controlling interest. He panicked.
He was genuinely terrified. Harper, let’s talk about this calmly. His tone softened drastically. I was wrong. I apologize to you, Madison. She’s young. She’s stupid. Don’t take her seriously. Stupid. I laughed. She’s stupid. And you’re stupid, too. When you told me to step aside for her, why didn’t you mention you were an idiot? Carter’s face went from pale to flushed.
In front of 300 elite guests, he had never suffered such profound humiliation. But he didn’t dare explode because my thumb was hovering over the end call button. One more word from me and Legacy Holdings would change owners. Harper, let’s go home and talk. He stepped closer, trying to grab my hand.
Let’s not make a circus out of this in public. A circus? I snatched my hand away. When she slapped me across the face, you didn’t seem to think it was a circus. At that moment, the sound of papers flipping came through the speaker phone. Harper, a buyer, has been found, Charles announced. He is willing to acquire the shares at a 10% premium. $4.
5 billion will be wired to your accounts immediately. Do you confirm the transaction? I looked at Carter. The last drop of color vanished from his face. 4.5 billion. I stared at Carter’s deathly pale face. My finger hovered over the screen. I purposely let the silence drag on for three agonizing seconds.
For those three seconds, the ballroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. 300 pairs of eyes were locked onto me and my phone. Some held their breath. Some gripped their drinks tighter, and a few were secretly recording on their phones. Carter’s Adams apple bobbed. Sweat beaded at his temples. Harper. His voice was barely a whisper, carrying a submissiveness I had never heard from him before.
Please calm down. Let’s discuss this at home. Selling the shares in front of everyone. This doesn’t benefit anyone. Doesn’t benefit who I raised the phone slightly. To me, a woman whose husband is about to dump her. I couldn’t care less. Madison, still clutching her face, finally grasped the gravity of the situation. She dropped her hand and stared at Carter with wide eyes.
Carter, what is she doing? She can’t sell them. Those are your family’s shares. What right does she have? Carter ignored her. She was the absolute last thing on his mind right now. Harper, my father gave you those shares to protect his legacy. Carter took a desperate step forward, his tone practically begging. By doing this, aren’t you betraying his memory? I laughed.
When you let your mistress slap me across the face, were you thinking of his memory? When you announced you were divorcing me in front of 300 people, were you thinking of his memory? Carter opened his mouth but couldn’t find a single word. Charles’s voice emanated from the phone again. Harper, the buyer, has confirmed the wire transfer of $4.
5 billion. He demands immediate execution of the contract. What is your decision? 4.5 billion. I heard gasps ripple through the crowd. Carter’s eyes went bloodshot. He hissed through his teeth. Harper, if you dare sell them, I will never forgive you as long as I live. Your forgiveness. I looked him dead in the eye.
What’s the market value on that? I spoke into the phone. Charles, I agree to the sale. Ding. The notification chime from my banking app rang out in the silent ballroom. It was deafening. 4 bill500 million had hit my account. I stared at the long string of zeros on my screen and suddenly felt the crushing irony of it all. 5 years.
For 5 years, I had guarded his legacy, guarded our home, guarded this man. I had thought that if I tried hard enough, if I endured enough one day, he would appreciate my sacrifices. And in the end, in the end, he brought his mistress to a gala, let her hit me, and threatened me with divorce if I defended myself.
Carter looked as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He stumbled back two steps and crashed into the banquet table. Crystal glasses shattered on the floor, red wine splashing onto his tailored trousers, but he didn’t even notice. Impossible, he muttered. How could you? That’s family property. Family property? I turned my phone screen toward him so he could see the deposit.
Carter, get it through your head. Your father legally transferred these shares into my name alone. They belong to Harper, not the Thorn family. Madison was panicking now. She was an idiot, but not that much of an idiot. 4.5 billion. What did that mean? It was the lifeblood of Legacy. Without those shares, Carter’s title as CEO was just an empty word. Carter.
She grabbed his sleeve, her voice trembling. What are we going to do now? Carter violently ripped his arm away. The force was so brutal that Madison fell hard to the floor. Get the hell away from me,” he roared. Madison looked up at him in disbelief. “Carter, you pushed me. I’m carrying your baby.
” A baby Carter glared down at her, his eyes unhinged. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this mess.” I watched the scene coldly, feeling absolutely zero pity. Madison dragged herself up from the floor. Her makeup was ruined. Dried blood caked her lip. She looked like a pathetic drowned rat.
She turned to me, her eyes filled with hatred, but even more so with terror. Harper, you did this on purpose, didn’t you? She shrieked hysterically. You’ve been wanting to sell those shares for ages. You just used me as an excuse. An excuse? I looked at her. When you slapped me in the face, you didn’t seem to think it was an excuse.
I put my phone away, pulled a wet wipe from my clutch, and slowly wiped away the faint sting on my cheek. Madison, thank you. I threw the wipe into a nearby ice bucket. Thank you for opening my eyes with that slap. Suddenly, Carter dropped to his knees with a heavy thud. The entire ballroom gasped collectively.
The CEO of Legacy Holdings, a financial genius, the heir to a massive dynasty, was kneeling before me in front of 300 people. Harper, I’m begging you. His voice was horse beyond recognition. The shares are sold. I don’t blame you, but please just tell me who is the buyer. At least let me know whose hands my legacy fell into.
I looked down at him. Five years ago when we got married, this man swore he would take care of me for the rest of his life. By our second year, he had his first mistress. By the third, his third. On our fifth anniversary, he brought a mistress to an official corporate event and humiliated me publicly.
And now, he was on his knees begging to know who I sold his company to. You’ll find out very soon. I grabbed my clutch and turned toward the ballroom exit. Behind me, I could hear Madison sobbing and Carter’s furious, desparing shouts, but I didn’t look back. My designer heels clicked authoritatively against the marble floor.
At the exit, the doorman pulled the door open for me. In his eyes, I saw an unmistakable sense of awe. “Have a good evening, Mrs. Thorne,” he said softly. “Call me Miss Harper,” I corrected him. “As of tonight, Mrs. Thorne no longer exists.” I stepped out onto Fifth Avenue. The night air was cool. Standing on the steps, I took a deep breath. Five years.
I had spent five years in a gilded cage playing the role of the obedient little canary. I had learned to please, to endure, to keep up appearances for everyone else. And what did I get for it? A public slap. I took out my phone and dialed a number. It was answered on the first ring. Harper Charles Montgomery’s professional voice came through.
Everything is finalized. The funds are secure. Excellent. Thank you, Charles. I’ve waited a long time for this day, he added quietly. So have I. I hung up, turned around, and looked up at the skyscraper in the distance. The golden logo of Legacy Holdings glowed brightly in the skyline, imposing powerful, but it was no longer my concern.
I opened the Uber app and requested a black SUV. 3 minutes later, a sleek Suburban pulled up. The driver rolled down the window. Harper, yes. I opened the door and slid into the leather seat. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, probably surprised to see a woman in oat couture hailing a ride alone at this hour. Where to ma’am? The Saint Regis.
I had booked the presidential suite that morning, the exact moment I received a provocative text from Madison. I knew tonight would be my last night as Mrs. Thorne. Her text had read, “Tonight at the gala, Carter is going to publicly end things with you. Be a good girl and leave on your own.
” When I read that, I wasn’t angry or heartbroken. I simply opened my contacts, found Charles Montgomery’s number, and texted him. Be ready. I’m selling the shares tonight. The SUV pulled up to the St. Regis. When I stepped out, the doorman recognized me immediately. Mrs. Thorne, he greeted politely. Miss Harper, I corrected again.
The doorman blinked, then quickly opened the heavy brass doors for me. I walked into the lavish lobby, and the concierge approached immediately. Miss Harper, your suite is ready. the presidential suite for seven nights as requested. Thank you. I took the key card and stepped into the elevator. When the doors closed, I leaned my head against the polished wood paneling and finally closed my eyes.
Tears rolled silently down my cheeks. Not from pain, from the overwhelming relief that I never had to pretend again. I slept in the presidential suite for 12 straight hours. When I woke up, my phone showed over 200 missed calls, all from Carter, and over 80 text messages. I didn’t bother reading them. I just swiped the notifications away.
The last message was from Madison sent at 3:00 a.m. Harper, do you think you won? Carter will bounce back, and when he does, you’ll be on your knees begging for our forgiveness. I scoffed and blocked her number. After taking a long shower and changing into fresh clothes, I sat down to breakfast by the Florida ceiling windows.
The Manhattan skyline sparkled under the morning sun. In the distance, I could see the Legacy Holdings tower, its glass facade reflecting the blinding light. I took a bite of a warm croissant. My phone rang. This time it was an unknown number. Hello, Harper. A deep resonant male voice spoke on the other end.
The official signing of the share transfer is at 3 p.m. today. Your physical presence is required. Understood. Text me the address. And the man paused. The buyer would like to meet you in person. Who is the buyer? You’ll find out when you arrive. Hanging up, I continued eating my breakfast. Honestly, I was curious about the buyer myself.
The fact that Charles had orchestrated a deal with a 10% premium overnight meant the buyer had unfathomable liquidity and was absolutely determined to acquire Legacy. On Wall Street, anyone willing to overpay that aggressively for a rival stock is either a madman or a sworn enemy of the Thorn family. At 2:30 p.m., I headed out dressed in a sharp, elegant pants suit with minimal makeup.
I took an Uber down to the financial district. The driver kept glancing at me in the mirror. Heading to Wall Street for work, miss. Something like that. Nothing but sharks down there, the driver side. Who even works in those buildings? The 1%. Of the 1%. I stayed quiet. The car pulled up to the entrance of a towering glass and steel high-rise…………………………………
