Chapter 45 Thorn in Her Life
Elizabeth knew she was walking a dangerous line.
One wrong step and she would be falling into an abyss... with no way back.
Armando had been hopelessly devoted to Sherry for years, and now there was Sloane. Expecting him to truly betray Sherry was a near impossibility.
But that was fine. Elizabeth didn't want Armando's heart.
She had only one goal.
To drive a thorn deep into Sherry's life, over and over, until it hurt every time she breathed.
To make sure those two lovers were never free from suspicion.
Outside, the city was awash in a sea of lights.
Inside her car, Elizabeth sat alone, her presence cold and still.
She drove to a club.
Men and women moved with abandon under the pulsing lights, bodies twisting in rhythm to the music. Desire hung thick in the air.
Elizabeth danced until her muscles burned, then poured herself a drink.
She pulled out her phone.
At this hour, Armando and Sherry were probably asleep.
Her eyes narrowed as she opened Armando's Facebook chat window and sent several messages:
[Mabel, what should I do? I don't think I can win him back.]
[Why is the drink here so bitter?]
[He doesn't love me.]
[Mabel, come keep me company.]
When she finished, her lips curved faintly before she put the phone away.
Her long neck tilted back as she drained one glass, then reached for another.
Below that graceful neck was a body that drew eyes without effort.
Men began to approach her, but Indigo stepped in to block them.
Elizabeth never came to places like this without a bodyguard.
Armando's phone wasn't on silent.
He heard the vibration, pressed his fingers to his temple, and reached for it on the nightstand.
When he saw Elizabeth's drunken messages—meant for someone else—his expression shifted.
He had always believed Elizabeth loved Quinton.
Sherry stirred, woken by the sound. Eyes still closed, she shifted closer, wrapping an arm around him.
"Who is it? Waking people up in the middle of the night."
"Work," Armando said softly. "Sorry. Go back to sleep."
Sherry murmured her assent, pouted, and brushed her lips against his before settling again.
She had waited for him tonight, but hadn't asked if he'd been with Elizabeth.
Elizabeth had never beaten her before, and never would.
Armando was about to power off his phone when two more messages came through:
[Do you know the owner of this phone?]
[She's drunk. Can you come get her?]
Elizabeth had staged it herself, sending the address while leaning on the bar, signaling Indigo to stay hidden.
Would he come?
Armando had always been ruthless with her.
She had noticed a slight change in his tone since her car accident... but tonight, he didn't show.
Instead, he sent Tom to fetch her.
Exactly as she expected. Elizabeth wasn't disappointed.
Revenge required patience.
At her building, she thanked Tom before going upstairs.
After a shower, exhaustion claimed her, and she fell asleep without another thought.
The next morning, she stayed curled under the covers, ignoring the hunger gnawing at her stomach.
Mabel knocked, then pushed the door open, her voice bright. "Elizabeth, get up and eat. We'll go work out after."
Elizabeth didn't move. "Who works out at noon?"
Mabel bounced onto the bed and tugged at her. "Come on. Eating is part of a healthy routine. I made lunch—try my cooking."
Elizabeth groaned. "God help me."
She rolled over, pulling the blanket over her head. Mabel's cooking was a disaster waiting to happen.
Mabel yanked the blanket away. "Elizabeth, up."
"Fine. I'm getting up. Stop shaking me."
Out of courtesy, Elizabeth ate the lunch Mabel had made.
The result was immediate—she had diarrhea. Badly.
Mabel stood awkwardly outside the bathroom door. "Elizabeth, let me take you to the hospital. You've been going for ages."
Elizabeth, pale and weak, pinched her nose. "No. I took medicine."
Mabel pulled out her phone and messaged Timothy.
Mabel: [Mr. Robinson, what do you do for diarrhea?]
Timothy: [Take medicine.]
Cold answer. She knew that already.
Mabel: [Elizabeth ate my cooking at lunch and now she's sick.]
Soon, Timothy sent a list of things to drink and eat.
Mabel called someone to get them.
At the hospital, Timothy slipped his phone back into his pocket without another word.
It took Elizabeth two days to feel well enough to drive her sports car back from the Johnson Group parking lot.
She also intended to return a suit jacket to Armando.
She called Tom from the lobby. "Tom, I have one of Mr. Johnson's jackets. Can I bring it up to him?"
Tom told her to wait, hung up, and knocked on Armando's office door.
"Mr. Johnson, Elizabeth wants to return your jacket."
Armando paused. "Go get it."
Elizabeth was in the first-floor lounge. Tom came down soon after.
"Elizabeth, Mr. Johnson is busy."
Elizabeth raised a brow, teasing. "Afraid I'll eat him alive?"
Tom coughed lightly. She'd never made jokes like that before.
She handed him the jacket and walked away, heels clicking.
Tom placed the jacket on Armando's desk. "Elizabeth has left."
"All right. Leave it there."
On the day Sherry's postpartum month ended, she called Armando.
They hadn't had a candlelit dinner in ages.
"Armando, are you free tonight?"
"Do you have something planned?" he asked.
A woman's voice murmured faintly on his end.
Sherry told herself she was imagining it.
She smiled. "Tonight we could—"
A female voice cut in. "Mr. Johnson, this flavor is lovely. Try a bite."
Sherry frowned. The tone was familiar... it sounded like Elizabeth.
Armando covered the phone. "Thanks, but no."
Sherry's face tightened.
Elizabeth smiled, scooping another bite of cake.
Armando finished his call and saw Elizabeth opening a third box.
"You've had enough."
"Okay."
She kept eating anyway, licking the spoon with a flick of her tongue.
Every movement was an unintentional provocation.
Seeing him today wasn't coincidence.
Armando often rode at the suburban stables. Elizabeth had been his secretary once; she knew his habits.
She came here daily to cross paths with him.
And she had succeeded.
She wondered how Sherry was feeling now.
Elizabeth thought she was well suited to being the villain.
She was dressed to turn heads—white fitted T-shirt, low-rise jeans hugging her hips.
Armando realized again that the cool, distant Elizabeth he had known was gone.
Not far away, Timothy stood in a white shirt, cigarette between his fingers.
He narrowed his eyes at Armando and Elizabeth.
Elizabeth smeared frosting on Armando's nose and laughed.
"Isn't that Ms. Penrose and her ex-husband? We've been seeing a lot of Ms. Penrose lately."
Matthew stood to Timothy's right.
Emma Sutter, poised and beautiful, leaned toward Matthew. "Matthew, who is Ms. Penrose?"
Emma had just returned to the country and didn't know all the names.
"Elizabeth. Armando's ex-wife."
Emma knew Armando but not Elizabeth. "Which aristocratic family is she from?"
"Armando's secretary."
Emma nodded. "Oh. They seem close. Why divorce?"
Matthew shook his head slowly.
Elizabeth chose a horse and rode two laps before spotting Timothy.
Cigarette between his lips, head tilted slightly, he listened to Emma speak.
Emma's riding jacket cinched at the waist, her beauty radiant.
Timothy's hands settled on her slender waist as he helped her into the saddle.
Those hands had once gripped Elizabeth's waist.
Now they held Emma.
Elizabeth turned away, tugging the reins. "This is fine," she murmured.
A horse thundered past.
Timothy looked toward Elizabeth as she leaned low over the saddle, her short T-shirt riding up to expose the curve of her back.
Emma's cheeks flushed. "Mr. Robinson, I don't think I can do this. The horse is too tall..."