Chapter 410

[ 1,054 words ]

Katia’s POV

I didn’t answer. I had explained myself enough times. In the family house. In front of cameras. In quiet conversations that went nowhere. There was nothing left to give her on that subject.

I tapped the proposal with one finger.

“Delia, you let this company turn you into their lapdog and their laughing stock. They saw the desperation. They know you want to stay relevant, so they send you to run errands. First the guest list. Now this. You walked into Julian’s office earlier today with an offer so poorly structured he didn’t even open the folder. And now you bring me the same energy like I won’t notice p>

Her cheeks flushed dark.

“Listen, you piece of shit,” she snapped. “I don’t want to work with you, but I’m here because my company wants you on board. So sign the damn fucking contract so we can get it over with. You are nothing, Katia. You are just a woman who fucked her way into the top p>

The words hung in the air.

I smiled slowly.

“There she is,” I said. “I was wondering how long the polite version would last p>

I stood up and walked around the desk until there was almost no space left between us. Delia held her ground, but her throat moved when she swallowed.

“You want nasty?” I said, voice low and clear. “Fine. Let’s do nasty p>

I counted it off on my fingers as I spoke.

“You spent two years living in a man’s house under an arrangement he spelled out on day one. No sex. No real marriage. Just a name and a schedule of appearances. You took the clothes, the jewelry, the invitations, and the photos. Then you cried victim when the truth showed up. You slapped my son in front of his school. You called him a bastard for the cameras. You dragged journalists into family business that was never yours to air. And now you stand in my office, in a company that is using you like a delivery service, and you call me the one who fucked her way up p>

Delia’s mouth opened. I didn’t let her speak.

“I married Julian Windsor seven years ago in Vegas when neither of us knew the other’s full name. I raised our son alone while you were still practicing your smile in the mirror. I built a company from nothing while you were busy collecting place cards. When the truth came out I didn’t run to the press. I didn’t slap children. I didn’t invent a marriage that never existed and then demand the city feel sorry for me when it collapsed p>

I took another step closer.

“You want to talk about fucking my way to the top? The only person in this room who traded her body and her dignity for a last name is you. You just did it so badly the man never touched you. That must sting. Watching him look at me the way he never once looked at you. Watching him claim our son in public while you stood there with his handprint on your face because you couldn’t keep your hands off a little boy p>

Delia’s eyes were bright with fury and something that looked a lot like shame.

“You don’t get to walk in here and rewrite the story,” I continued. “You don’t get to call me nothing while you carry proposals you don’t understand for men who won’t even tell you their father’s name. Vesper is using you. Everyone can see it. Julian saw it in five minutes. I saw it the second you opened your mouth. The only person still pretending otherwise is you p>

I picked up the proposal, held it between two fingers, and let it drop back onto the desk.

“I’m not signing anything. I’m not taking a meeting with a company that sends the least qualified person in the building to do their talking. And I’m not pretending we’re strangers so you can feel important for twenty minutes. You want to keep running their errands? Do it somewhere else. You want to keep calling me a whore for the life I actually lived while you were busy performing one? Keep going. The city already watched you lose. They don’t need a sequel p>

Delia’s breathing had gone shallow. Her hands were fists at her sides.

“You think you’re better than me,” she said, voice shaking.

“I know exactly what I am,” I answered. “A wife. A mother. A woman who built something real. You still don’t know what you are without a borrowed last name, and that’s the part that is eating you alive p>

I walked back around the desk and sat down. I opened my laptop and turned the screen toward me like the conversation was already finished.

“You can leave the proposal if it makes you feel like you completed the assignment,” I said without looking up. “Or you can take it with you. Either way, the answer is no. Close the door on your way out p>

For a second she didn’t move. The silence stretched. Then she snatched the folder off the desk hard enough to send papers sliding, turned on her heel, and walked out. The door shut behind her with a sharp bang.

I sat still for a moment, listening to the quiet that followed.

Sam reappeared almost immediately, eyes wide.

“That was p>

“I know,” I said.

I picked up my phone and typed a short message to Julian.

Katia: She came. She tried the same offer. I declined. She left angry.

His reply came fast.

Julian: Good. Come home early.

I locked the screen, exhaled, and looked at Sam.

“Cancel anything else that has her name on it,” I said. “I’m done being available for her performances p>

Sam nodded and left.

I turned back to the numbers on my screen, but my mind stayed on the empty doorway for a long time after. Delia had walked in trying to play a role she still didn’t understand. She had walked out carrying the same emptiness she brought with her.

I almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

Then I remembered Aiden’s face the day she slapped him, and the feeling disappeared.

I had work to finish before I went home to my husband and our son. Everything else could wait.

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