Chapter 6
Amber showed up fifteen minutes early. I watched her on the security feed from Callum's office. She was fidgeting, pulling at her sleeves, looking around the lobby like the marble walls might swallow her.
Good.
I took the elevator down at 10:05. Let her wait.
When she saw me step out, her expression went through three stages: relief, then calculation, then a forced warmth that made my skin crawl.
"Serena!" She stood up, arms opening like she was going to hug me. "Thank God. I was so worried you wouldn't—"
"Sit down, Amber."
She froze. Then sat.
I took the chair across from her, crossed my legs, and waited.
"Serena, listen," she started, her voice dropping to that practiced vulnerable tone. "What happened at the wedding—it wasn't what you think. Dylan and I, we've known each other since we were kids. It was just a goodbye kiss. He was saying goodbye to his old life to start fresh with you. I know how it looked, but—"
"A goodbye kiss," I repeated. "At the altar. During our wedding."
"I know, I know. It was stupid. But I swear, nothing was going on between us. He loves you. He's devastated."
I let the silence stretch. Let her squirm.
Then I pulled out my phone and placed it face-up on the table between us.
On the screen was a series of hotel receipts. Amber's name. Dylan's credit card. Seventeen different stays over the past eight months.
Her face went white.
"Where did you get those?"
"Callum's team is very thorough," I said. "They found everything, Amber. The hotel stays. The texts. The apartment he rented for you downtown. The jewelry. Shall I keep going?"
She was gripping the armrest so hard her knuckles were bloodless.
"It wasn't—we didn't—"
"Amber." I leaned forward. "I didn't bring you here for an apology. I don't want one, and you wouldn't mean it anyway."
Her eyes darted. "Then why?"
"To give you a choice." I held up one finger. "Option one. You disappear. Leave the city. Cut all ties with Dylan. I'll let you walk away clean."
"And option two?"
I smiled. "I release everything. The receipts. The texts. The photos Callum's PI took of you leaving that apartment at 6 a.m. last Tuesday. Every single piece of it goes to the press, to your employer, and to your family."
Amber's mask finally cracked. Her eyes went wet, her voice rising.
"You can't do this! I loved him! He told me he was going to leave you! He said the wedding was just for the business deal and that once it was over—"
"Once it was over, what?" I tilted my head. "He'd divorce me and run to you? With what money, Amber? His company's collapsing. His assets are frozen. Did he tell you that part?"
The look on her face told me he hadn't.
"He used both of us," I said flatly. "The difference is, I got out. You're still holding on to nothing."
Amber stared at me. Then down at the table. Then back up, something new in her expression. Not remorse. Calculation.
"If I leave," she said slowly, "what's stopping you from releasing it anyway?"
"My word."
"That's not enough."
I shrugged. "Then stay. See what happens."
She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the marble floor.
"Fine," she hissed. "I'll go. But don't act like you're better than me, Serena. You jumped from one man's bed to another in the same afternoon."
I stood too. Looked down at her.
"The difference, Amber, is that my husband actually chose me. In front of everyone. Not behind closed doors like a dirty secret."
She flinched like I'd hit her.
I turned and walked back toward the elevator. Didn't look back.
When the doors closed, I exhaled. My hands were shaking slightly. Not from fear.
From satisfaction.
My phone buzzed. Callum.
[How'd it go?]
[She's leaving. It's done.]
[Good. Come upstairs. I have something to show you.]
When I walked into his office, he was standing at the window, holding a document.
"The Lawsons' lawsuit was thrown out this morning," he said. "Judge ruled breach of good faith on their end. Your family's investment claim is proceeding. All sixty million."
I closed my eyes for a second. Relief hit me like a wave.
"And," he continued, turning to face me, "there's one more thing."
He handed me the document. I looked at it.
A transfer deed. For thirty percent of Reed Global's shares. In my name.
"Callum, this is—I can't accept this."
"You're my wife," he said simply. "What's mine is yours. This just makes it official."
"We've been married for one day."
"And it's already the best day of my life." He said it without irony. Without hesitation.
My chest ached.
Then his phone rang. He glanced at it, and his expression shifted.
"What?" I asked.
"Dylan just held a press conference," he said. "He's claiming I stole his bride and that our marriage is a corporate takeover in disguise."
My stomach dropped. "He's going public?"
Callum's jaw tightened. "He wants a war."
He looked at me.
"Let's give him one."
Good.
I took the elevator down at 10:05. Let her wait.
When she saw me step out, her expression went through three stages: relief, then calculation, then a forced warmth that made my skin crawl.
"Serena!" She stood up, arms opening like she was going to hug me. "Thank God. I was so worried you wouldn't—"
"Sit down, Amber."
She froze. Then sat.
I took the chair across from her, crossed my legs, and waited.
"Serena, listen," she started, her voice dropping to that practiced vulnerable tone. "What happened at the wedding—it wasn't what you think. Dylan and I, we've known each other since we were kids. It was just a goodbye kiss. He was saying goodbye to his old life to start fresh with you. I know how it looked, but—"
"A goodbye kiss," I repeated. "At the altar. During our wedding."
"I know, I know. It was stupid. But I swear, nothing was going on between us. He loves you. He's devastated."
I let the silence stretch. Let her squirm.
Then I pulled out my phone and placed it face-up on the table between us.
On the screen was a series of hotel receipts. Amber's name. Dylan's credit card. Seventeen different stays over the past eight months.
Her face went white.
"Where did you get those?"
"Callum's team is very thorough," I said. "They found everything, Amber. The hotel stays. The texts. The apartment he rented for you downtown. The jewelry. Shall I keep going?"
She was gripping the armrest so hard her knuckles were bloodless.
"It wasn't—we didn't—"
"Amber." I leaned forward. "I didn't bring you here for an apology. I don't want one, and you wouldn't mean it anyway."
Her eyes darted. "Then why?"
"To give you a choice." I held up one finger. "Option one. You disappear. Leave the city. Cut all ties with Dylan. I'll let you walk away clean."
"And option two?"
I smiled. "I release everything. The receipts. The texts. The photos Callum's PI took of you leaving that apartment at 6 a.m. last Tuesday. Every single piece of it goes to the press, to your employer, and to your family."
Amber's mask finally cracked. Her eyes went wet, her voice rising.
"You can't do this! I loved him! He told me he was going to leave you! He said the wedding was just for the business deal and that once it was over—"
"Once it was over, what?" I tilted my head. "He'd divorce me and run to you? With what money, Amber? His company's collapsing. His assets are frozen. Did he tell you that part?"
The look on her face told me he hadn't.
"He used both of us," I said flatly. "The difference is, I got out. You're still holding on to nothing."
Amber stared at me. Then down at the table. Then back up, something new in her expression. Not remorse. Calculation.
"If I leave," she said slowly, "what's stopping you from releasing it anyway?"
"My word."
"That's not enough."
I shrugged. "Then stay. See what happens."
She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the marble floor.
"Fine," she hissed. "I'll go. But don't act like you're better than me, Serena. You jumped from one man's bed to another in the same afternoon."
I stood too. Looked down at her.
"The difference, Amber, is that my husband actually chose me. In front of everyone. Not behind closed doors like a dirty secret."
She flinched like I'd hit her.
I turned and walked back toward the elevator. Didn't look back.
When the doors closed, I exhaled. My hands were shaking slightly. Not from fear.
From satisfaction.
My phone buzzed. Callum.
[How'd it go?]
[She's leaving. It's done.]
[Good. Come upstairs. I have something to show you.]
When I walked into his office, he was standing at the window, holding a document.
"The Lawsons' lawsuit was thrown out this morning," he said. "Judge ruled breach of good faith on their end. Your family's investment claim is proceeding. All sixty million."
I closed my eyes for a second. Relief hit me like a wave.
"And," he continued, turning to face me, "there's one more thing."
He handed me the document. I looked at it.
A transfer deed. For thirty percent of Reed Global's shares. In my name.
"Callum, this is—I can't accept this."
"You're my wife," he said simply. "What's mine is yours. This just makes it official."
"We've been married for one day."
"And it's already the best day of my life." He said it without irony. Without hesitation.
My chest ached.
Then his phone rang. He glanced at it, and his expression shifted.
"What?" I asked.
"Dylan just held a press conference," he said. "He's claiming I stole his bride and that our marriage is a corporate takeover in disguise."
My stomach dropped. "He's going public?"
Callum's jaw tightened. "He wants a war."
He looked at me.
"Let's give him one."