Chapter 122 He Still Chose Me

Chapter 122 He Still Chose Me
The parking garage was cold, the concrete walls echoing with the distant hum of traffic. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the rows of cars.

Audrey pulled her coat tighter, walking toward the black sedan where Marcus waited by the driver's door. The press conference had ended an hour ago. Elliot was still inside, handling the last of the reporters, tying up loose ends.

She was tired. Her feet ached from heels she still wasn't used to wearing for hours. But beneath the exhaustion, there was lightness. The secret was out. The world knew. And somehow, the world hadn't ended.

"Stop right there."

The voice came from behind her. Sharp, also familiar in the worst way.

Audrey turned.

Catherine stood a few feet away, her usually perfect appearance slightly disheveled. Her hair was still immaculate, her designer dress still flawless—but something was off. Her eyes were too bright. Her smile too tight. Like a porcelain doll with cracks beginning to show.

Marcus tensed, his hand moving instinctively toward his jacket.

Audrey held up a hand. "It's fine."

"Mrs. Harrington—" Marcus started, his voice low with warning.

"I said it's fine." Audrey met his eyes. "Five minutes."

Marcus hesitated, then nodded slowly. He didn't step away, but he moved to the side. Close enough to intervene, far enough to give them the illusion of privacy.

Catherine watched the exchange with something that might have been envy. Or bitterness. Hard to tell anymore.

"You have him well-trained," she observed. "Does he report everything to Elliot? Every word I say?"

Audrey didn't take the bait. "What do you want, Catherine?"

The use of her first name—no "Miss," no polite distance—made Catherine's smile flicker.

"Straight to the point. I suppose marriage has changed you." She clasped her hands in front of her, a gesture that might have looked demure if her eyes weren't so sharp. "I came to congratulate you. On the press conference. On... everything."

Audrey waited.

Catherine's composure wavered. "You handled yourself well up there. I expected you to stumble. To show everyone what you really are. But you didn't." She tilted her head, studying Audrey like a scientist examining a specimen. "Interesting, isn't it? How a woman can pretend to be something she's not."

"If that's all—"

"I'm not finished." Catherine's voice cracked slightly. She took a step closer. Marcus shifted. She noticed, and her smile turned brittle. "Relax. I'm not going to attack your precious Mrs. Harrington. I just want to talk."

Audrey met her gaze. "Then talk."

Catherine's eyes roamed over her face, searching for something. Weakness, maybe. Or fear.

"You know, I was there first," she said quietly. "Before you. Before all of this. His mother approved of me. His family welcomed me. I was the right choice. The sensible choice." Her voice trembled. "I was perfect for him."

Audrey said nothing.

"And then you came along." Catherine's voice sharpened. "A secretary. A woman with no family, no connections, no name. A woman whose stepfather is a criminal. Whose mother couldn't even raise her properly." Her eyes flashed. "And he chose you."

Audrey went still. The words hit somewhere deeper than she expected—not because they were new, but because of what they revealed.

How does she know about Henry? About my mother?

She stared at Catherine, her mind racing. The press had dug into her past before, yes. But Catherine spoke with the confidence of someone who had sources. Someone who had investigated.

"How..." Audrey's voice came out quieter than she intended. She cleared her throat, steadying herself. "How do you know about my family?"

Catherine's smile spread slowly—ugly, triumphant, like she'd been waiting for this question. Like she'd been waiting for Audrey to crack.

"See?" She laughed in a low, terrible sound that echoed off the concrete walls. "That's the real you, Mrs. Harrington. The woman who freezes when her past catches up. The woman with the broken family, the criminal stepfather, the mother who couldn't even keep a man."

She stepped closer. Audrey held her ground.

"You think I didn't do my research?" Catherine's eyes gleamed. "You think I'd let someone like you waltz into his life without knowing exactly who you are? What you're hiding?"

Audrey's hands clenched at her sides. "You...investigated me?"

"I did what was necessary." Catherine's voice dripped with disdain. "I found out about Henry's debts. His gambling. His friends. I found out about your mother. How she let that man into your home, how she let him destroy your family. I found out everything."

She took another step. Audrey didn't move.

"And now?" Catherine tilted her head, her smile razor-sharp. "You want to stand beside Elliot? With your messy, pathetic family trailing behind you like a curse? You think that won't come out eventually? You think the media won't dig until they find every ugly detail?"

Her voice rose, cracking with something that might have been desperation or madness.

"The world should know the real you, Audrey. Not the polished wife. Not the woman in the pretty dress. The girl who came from nothing. Who clawed her way up. Who doesn't belong here."

She was close now—close enough that Audrey could see the veins in her neck, the wildness in her eyes.

"You don't belong," Catherine hissed. "You never did. And no matter how many press conferences he holds, no matter how many cameras flash, that will never change. You'll always be—"

"Enough." Audrey's voice cut through Catherine's rant like a blade. Steady and unshakeable.

Catherine stopped. Her mouth was still open, her words suspended in the cold air between them.

Audrey looked at her. At the woman who had spent months trying to tear her down. Who had drugged her husband. Who had hired her stepfather to destroy their marriage. Who was now standing in a parking garage, her perfect facade crumbling, screaming about families and belonging.

And for the first time, Audrey didn't feel scared or angry or even hurt.

She felt... pity.

"You're right," Audrey said quietly.

Catherine blinked. "What?"

"My family is messy. Henry is a criminal. My mother made choices I wouldn't have made." She met Catherine's eyes, steady and calm. "I came from nothing. I clawed my way up. I don't have a name, or connections, or a past anyone would be proud of."

Catherine's triumph flickered. She'd expected Audrey to deny it, to defend herself, to break. Not this.

"But you know what I do have?" Audrey continued. "A husband who loves me. A family who chose me. A life that I built—myself—without lying, without cheating, without drugging anyone's drink."

Catherine flinched.

"And Elliot?" Audrey's voice softened. "He knows everything. He knows about Henry. He knows about my mother. He knows about the debts, the shame, the nights I thought I wouldn't survive. He knows all of it, and he still chose me." She paused. "Me."

Catherine's face was pale now. The wild fury in her eyes was fading into something else. Something that looked like despair.

"You can dig into my past all you want. You can tell the world about Henry, about my mother, about every mistake I never had the privilege to avoid." Audrey straightened, pulling herself to her full height. "It won't change anything. Because I'm not ashamed of where I came from, Catherine. I survived it. And I'm still standing."
She let the words settle.

Catherine's hands were shaking. Her perfect composure was gone, replaced by something raw and broken.

"Now," Audrey said quietly, "you can keep screaming about my family. You can keep trying to tear me down. Or you can walk away and figure out why a woman with everything you have—money, status, a family who loves her—spent months obsessing over a man who never wanted her."

Catherine's breath caught. Her eyes glistened.