Chapter 26:childhood friend
Aileen's POV*
Turning around, I saw yet another woman entering the room. She walked in with a confidence that demanded attention, her long blonde waist- length hair flowing behind her like a golden curtain. She flicked her hair back dramatically, her perfume was so strong and sweet that it seemed to fill every corner of the study room. Her sharp heels clicked against the marble floor as she moved closer, her eyes locked onto Anthony like he was the center of her universe.
Anthony frowned as his gaze settled on her. Without hesitation, he asked, “Who are you?”
The woman didn’t answer, but Trisha, still standing nearby, stepped forward with a smile. “Tony, this is Susan Harrington,” she said, grabbing the woman’s arm to pull her closer. “You guys were best friends in kindergarten. Don’t you remember?” she added, her tone dripping with sweetness.
Susan gave Anthony a coy smile, but Anthony’s expression didn’t change. His frown deepened as Trisha continued, “She would have been your wife if it weren’t for *that* woman.” Trisha rolled her eyes dramatically, gesturing vaguely as if her words weren’t already insulting enough.
Anthony slid both hands into his pockets and gave Trisha a sharp look. “If it weren’t for *that woman, I’d probably be a happy single man right now,” he replied coldly, a flicker of regret in his voice. He then straightened his posture and added firmly, “Trisha Price, I think it’s high time you stopped meddling in my personal life, or I’ll have to—”
“Or You’ll have to what? What are you going to do, huh?” Trisha snapped, cutting him off, her voice rising with defiance. She placed her hands on her hips, glaring at Anthony like she was daring him to finish his sentence.
Susan quickly intervened, grabbing Trisha’s arm and speaking softly, “Trisha, please, don’t argue with your brother because of me. I’m just a friend, and I don’t want to cause any problems.” Her calm tone seemed to diffuse some of Trisha’s fiery attitude.
Anthony didn’t bother replying. He shook his head in frustration, turned on his heel, and walked out of the study without another word. Trisha huffed and muttered something under her breath before turning to Susan. “We should go now,” she said flatly, clearly annoyed.
As Trisha stormed out of the study, she shouted, “Laura, is there anything left to eat? I’m starving!” Her voice echoed down the hallway, leaving Susan and me alone in the study.
Susan turned to me with a small, calculated smile and folded her arms across her chest. “Nice to meet you, Aileen,” she said smoothly, extending a hand toward me for a handshake.
I hesitated for a moment before returning the gesture. “Miss Harrington, it’s nice to meet you too,” I replied with a faint smile, shaking her hand politely.
Susan didn’t let go right away. Instead, she swept her eyes over me from head to toe, her gaze slow and assessing. Her lips curved slightly at the corners as if she was amused by what she saw. The intensity of her stare made me uncomfortable.
“Is there something on my face?” I asked, my brows furrowed in confusion. “Or…”
Susan smirked and took a step closer. “No, no. Your pretty face is perfectly fine. In fact, it’s quite pleasing to the eye,” she said, her voice soft but sharp. “And if I may say so, I imagine you have plenty of admirers.”
I blinked, caught off guard by her comment. “Uhh… admirers? On Instagram, you mean? No, I don’t post much, and, well… I’m married.” I raised my hand slightly, showing her the ring on my finger.
Her expression shifted slightly, softening as she nodded. “Good. You’re smart. That’s good. Saves trouble,” she said with a small, approving smile. Then her tone hardened, and she added, “As long as you stay away from Anthony, we’ll have no problems.”
I stared at her, surprised by her bluntness. Forcing a calm tone, I replied, “Don’t worry, Miss Harrington. I know my place.” Then, glancing at the work still waiting for me, I added, “If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do. Enjoy your time here.” Without waiting for a response, I left the room.
\---
After an exhausting day of arranging and planning for Anthony’s upcoming birthday party, it was finally time for dinner. I walked into the dining room, feeling drained but relieved that the day’s work was mostly done. Trisha and Susan were already seated at the table, chatting quietly. Susan’s eyes flicked toward me the moment I entered, and her stare was unmistakably mischievous.
I sighed, trying to ignore her, and pulled out a chair at the far end of the table. Just as I settled in, Anthony joined us. He casually walked over and, to my surprise, chose the seat next to mine. I could feel Susan’s eyes burning into me from across the table. When I glanced her way, I saw her face flush red with what looked like frustration or jealousy.
Susan suddenly leaned closer to Trisha and spoke loud enough for the entire table to hear. “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always wanted to be Anthony’s pride. I don’t think I could ever marry anyone else,” she said, her voice laced with longing as her eyes briefly flicked to me.
Anthony chuckled lightly but didn’t look up from his plate. “Susan, let’s be realistic,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “You and I are not right for each other, and the sooner you understand that, the better it will be for both of our families.”
Susan’s face fell, and her voice wavered as she replied, “I’m so sorry, Anthony. I don’t know what I said to upset you.” She paused, her cheeks flushing as she added, “If you’re talking about those rumors about your divorce being because of me, I swear I had nothing to do with that.”
Anthony finally looked up, his gaze calm but sharp. “Susan,” he said evenly, “I’m well aware that you have nothing to do with my divorce. And honestly, I don’t care what people say.”
There was a tense silence at the table. Trisha fidgeted uncomfortably, while Susan’s expression turned desperate. “Anthony, you know I love you,” she said suddenly, her voice trembling. “And I’m not afraid of the whole world knowing it.”
I couldn’t help the thought that popped into my head: *She’s the textbook definition of a ‘pick-me girl.’* Shaking my head slightly, I looked at Anthony and noticed his fists clenching tightly on the table.
He exhaled slowly, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Susan,” he said, his tone colder now, “it doesn’t matter how you feel. I’ve already made myself clear. Trisha, she’s your guest. Please manage her.”
Trisha quickly stood, grabbing Susan’s arm. “Susan, let’s go,” she said, trying to sound cheerful but clearly eager to end the awkwardness. Susan hesitated for a moment, looking like she wanted to say more, but eventually followed Trisha out of the dining room.
As soon as they left, I let out a long breath, relieved that the tension had fina lly eased. Anthony remained quiet, staring at his plate.