Chapter 39 Chapter 39: Apologize?
Catharine's P.O.V
I could tell that Hunter was still furious. His entire body was tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. His jaw was clenched so tightly I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin, and his hands were still balled into fists at his sides. He looked like he was about to do something rash, something that might make this whole situation even worse than it already was.
I didn't want that. I didn't want Hunter to get into more trouble because of me, I didn't want him to do something he might regret later. So I reached out slowly and gently touched the back of his jacket, my fingers barely making contact with the expensive fabric. I gave a light tug, just enough for him to feel it, hoping he would understand what I was trying to communicate.
I don't want any more trouble. Please.
Hunter's shoulders shifted slightly and I saw him take a deep breath, like he was trying to rein in his anger. He didn't turn to look at me but I could tell he had received my message. The tension in his body eased just a fraction, though he still looked ready to throw another punch at the slightest provocation.
I turned away from Hunter and faced Xavier, who was still hovering protectively near Mr. Hawthorn. The sight of him standing there, choosing that horrible man over me, made something inside my chest crack and splinter.
"Xavier," I said, my voice coming out quieter than I intended. "I want to go home. I'm exhausted and I don't want to stay here another instant."
I just wanted to leave this party, leave this nightmare behind. I wanted to go home, lock myself in my room, and try to process everything that had happened tonight. I needed space to breathe, to think, to figure out what I was going to do about my relationship with a man who clearly didn't respect me or trust me.
I turned toward the door, ready to walk out of this mansion and never look back. But before I could take more than two steps, Xavier's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. He hauled me back roughly, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to hurt.
"You're not going anywhere," Xavier said, his voice low and dangerous.
I stumbled slightly as he pulled me back, catching myself before I fell. I looked up at him in shock, rubbing my wrist where he had grabbed me.
"Xavier, let me go," I said, trying to pull my arm free.
But Xavier's grip only tightened. His eyes were hard and cold, looking at me like I was a disobedient child who needed to be disciplined.
"You're not going anywhere until you apologize to Mr. Hawthorn for humiliating him," Xavier said clearly, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.
I felt the blood drain from my face. I stared at Xavier as if he were a complete stranger, because the man standing in front of me right now bore no resemblance to the person I thought I had been in love with for six years.
"What?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"You heard me," Xavier said firmly. "You humiliated a valued business associate at a public event. You caused a scene and got him physically assaulted. The least you can do is apologize."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My mouth opened and closed but no words came out for a long moment. Finally, I found my voice.
I lowered my voice, leaning closer to Xavier so that our conversation might have some semblance of privacy, even though I knew everyone was still watching us.
"Xavier, he seriously did make suggestive comments," I said urgently, desperately trying to make him understand. "He grabbed me and wouldn't let go. He made me feel uncomfortable and unsafe. I'm not making this up."
But Xavier wasn't listening. He wasn't even looking at me properly, his attention still divided between me and Mr. Hawthorn, who was sitting in a chair now with his wife fussing over his swollen face.
"Mr. Hawthorn is an investor," Xavier said, completely ignoring my words. "He's a ten percent shareholder in Dalton Inc. Do you understand what that means, Cathy? His investment keeps my company running. It pays for our house, our cars, your clothes, everything."
Each word felt like a slap across my face. Xavier was reducing our entire relationship to money, to business transactions and shareholdings.
"So if you want to keep enjoying all the luxuries that you have right now," Xavier continued, his voice hard and unforgiving, "then you need to apologize to him. And you need to actually mean it."
I stood there, frozen in place, trying to process the emotions flooding through my mind. Hurt. Betrayal. Anger. Disbelief. They all swirled together into something so overwhelming I could barely breathe.
This was really happening. Xavier was really asking me to apologize to the man who had harassed me, who had insulted me in the worst possible way, all because he was worried about losing an investor.
I looked around at the crowd that had gathered to watch this spectacle. Some of the powerful people from New York's elite were here, watching with avid interest. And worse, I noticed several people holding up their phones, recording everything that was happening. Some of them looked like press members, professional gossip collectors who would plaster this story all over the tabloids by morning.
My humiliation was being documented for public consumption. By tomorrow, everyone would know that Xavier Dalton had forced his wife to apologize to a man who had sexually harassed her.
Unless I could turn this around somehow. An idea began to form in my mind, dangerous and risky but possibly the only way to salvage some dignity from this nightmare. I took a deep breath and steeled my spine, forcing myself to stand up straighter.
"Fine," I said, my voice suddenly clear and steady. "I'll apologize."
Xavier looked satisfied, like he had won some kind of victory. He stepped aside, giving me a clear path to where Mr. Hawthorn was sitting.
I walked over slowly, my heels clicking against the marble floor. Every eye in the room was on me. Mr. Hawthorn looked up as I approached, a smug smile beginning to form on his uninjured cheek.
I arranged my face into the sweetest smile I could manage, the kind of smile that could have melted butter.
"Mr. Hawthorn," I said, my voice dripping with false sincerity. "I really am so sorry for what happened tonight."
Mr. Hawthorn's smile widened. Xavier nodded approvingly from where he stood. They both thought I was going to roll over and submit, going to let them win.
They were wrong.
"I'm sorry that I misheard you," I continued, my smile never wavering. "Because there is no way a billionaire elite like Mr. Hawthorn could have actually suggested that I sleep with him just because I can't even get pregnant. That would be completely inappropriate and honestly beneath someone of your standing."
I heard several gasps from the people around us. Mr. Hawthorn's smile disappeared instantly, replaced by a look of shock and growing horror. Xavier's face went pale.
But I wasn't done yet.
I turned slightly, making sure my voice would carry to all the phones that were recording. "I mean, surely I must have been mistaken when I thought I heard him say those things. Surely a respected businessman wouldn't use his investment in my husband's company as leverage to try to coerce me into something inappropriate."
More gasps. More phones being raised to capture every word.
"And I must have definitely misunderstood when I thought he implied that my infertility made me worthless," I continued, my voice getting stronger with each word. "Because what kind of person would say something so cruel and degrading to another human being?"
Mrs. Hawthorn had gone completely white. Mr. Hawthorn was sputtering, trying to form words, but nothing coherent was coming out.
I pointed up toward the corner of the bar area, where I had noticed earlier that there was a security camera mounted on the wall.
"But if I'm wrong about any of this," I said sweetly, "if I really did misunderstand what happened, then we can always crosscheck the evidence before condemning anyone, can't we? I'm sure this lovely establishment has security footage of the entire evening. We could review it right now and see exactly what was said and done. That would clear everything up, wouldn't it?"
The silence that followed my words was deafening. You could have heard a pin drop in that massive foyer.
Mr. Hawthorn's face had gone from red to purple. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking like a fish gasping for air. Mrs. Hawthorn was staring at her husband with dawning horror on her face, clearly beginning to suspect that maybe, just maybe, I was telling the truth.
Xavier looked like he had been hit by a truck. He was staring at me with wide eyes, finally beginning to realize what he had just done, how badly he had miscalculated.
I turned to face the crowd, my smile still perfectly in place. "So please, someone call the security team. Let's pull up that footage right now. Let's see exactly what happened at this bar. I'm sure Mr. Hawthorn would be more than happy to have his name cleared by video evidence, wouldn't you, Mr. Hawthorn?"
Mr. Hawthorn made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. He tried to stand up but his legs seemed to give out and he sat back down heavily in the chair.
"That won't be necessary," Mrs. Hawthorn said quickly, her voice shaking. "Richard, we're leaving. Now."
She grabbed her husband's arm and practically hauled him out of the chair, supporting most of his weight as she dragged him toward the exit. Mr. Hawthorn didn't resist, couldn't resist, because we all knew what that security footage would show.
The crowd parted silently to let them through. I heard the whispers starting, spreading through the room like wildfire. I had just turned the tables on all of them. And they knew running was the only option left.