Chapter 22
Margaret's POV
"Two no-trumps," I declared confidently, arranging my cards with manicured fingers.
The other ladies at the table—wives of Starport's influential men—nodded appreciatively. Our weekly bridge game at the club had become less about cards and more about flaunting status.
"Margaret, you must be excited about Harrison Group's upcoming IPO," the investment banker's wife said eagerly. "Richard has done amazing work with the company."
I smiled, savoring the envy in her voice. "Richard has always had excellent business instincts."
"Mrs. Harrison?" A server in crisp white livery approached our table. "An urgent private delivery for you."
I frowned, taking the sealed express envelope. Who would send something here?
I sliced the envelope open with a letter opener, half-expecting invitation cards or charity requests. Instead, several glossy photographs slid onto my lap.
My blood froze.
Richard locked in an embrace with a blonde woman. Their lips pressed together, his hand cupping her face intimately.
I recognized her instantly. Laura Parker. A distant memory surfaced in my mind.
Ten years ago, Richard had been the golden boy of Starport High. His acceptance to Wharton was practically guaranteed.
Then he fell in love with Laura Parker in high school.
This chemistry student from a middle-class background captivated Richard. Soon, he was skipping family dinners for study dates, missing alumni networking events to spend weekends with her. His grades slipped. His focus wavered.
When we discovered the relationship, Richard's grandfather delivered the ultimatum personally: "Choose that gold-digging parasite, and you're cut off. No inheritance, no connections, no Harrison name."
Using our connections, the family ensured Laura's scholarship was mysteriously revoked. Pressure mounted until she was forced to drop out and leave school.
But we never knew Richard had maintained contact with Laura all along.
"It seems your son has done something quite remarkable," the others said after seeing the photos, clearly recognizing Richard, though the woman with him wasn't Grace.
I stood up, grabbed my purse, and rushed toward Richard's villa. The whispers behind me only fueled my rage.
---
Laura's POV
When I returned to the villa, I was still shaking with anger. The Grace team's dissatisfaction with me and the humiliation of the Vanguard meeting burned like acid in my stomach. They had rejected my work simply because it wasn't Grace's...
The sound of the front door being thrown open startled me. Before I could react, Margaret stormed into the living room like a hurricane in a designer suit, her face contorted with fury.
"You disgusting little leech!" she snarled, throwing something at me.
Photographs scattered across the floor. My blood ran cold when I saw what they showed—Richard and me kissing at the doorway. Someone had been watching us.
"Mrs. Harrison, I can explain—" I started.
"Explain?" She laughed, a harsh, cutting sound. "What is there to explain? You've been seducing my son for years!"
My cheeks burned. "Richard loves me. He always has. We—"
The slap came so fast I didn't see it coming. Pain exploded across my cheek as Margaret's hand connected with my face.
"Don't you dare speak to me about love," she hissed, grabbing my chin forcefully. "You're nothing but a shameless hussy who couldn't accept her place. Ten years ago, we gave you a chance to disappear with dignity. Now you're back to destroy Richard's marriage?"
"Laura?"
A small voice froze us both. Emma stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed bunny, blue eyes wide with fear.
"Don't hurt Laura!" Emma screamed, rushing toward us with the fearless determination only a six-year-old could muster.
Margaret's face transformed as she looked at my daughter. The contempt in her eyes made my blood run cold.
Margaret snapped her fingers, and two security men appeared from the hallway. "Take this child to her room and lock the door. I don't want to hear another sound from her."
"No!" I lunged forward as one of the men reached for Emma. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Harrison. Please don't treat the child that way!"
Emma began to wail as the large man pried her away from me. I fought wildly, scratching at his arms, desperate to protect my child.
"Enough of this circus!" Margaret grabbed my shoulder and shoved me with surprising strength.
I lost my balance and fell backward.
---
I heard the door being thrown open, followed by Richard's hurried footsteps echoing through the living room. Through my blurred vision, I saw him rush to my side, his face filled with shock.
"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.
"Your little secret is out," Margaret snapped, throwing the photos on the ground.
"Mom, calm down first. It's not what you think. Laura is just staying here temporarily. Grace knows about this and she agreed..."
"I don't care whether Grace agrees or not! Have you forgotten your grandfather's will? She's nothing but a disgraceful slut!"
I stood behind Richard, expecting him to stand up for us.
But Richard did something unbelievable. He gently held his mother's arm, guiding her to the sofa.
"Mom, I remember everything. Please calm down," he soothed. "Laura is here to help Grace take care of Emma and handle some company documents while Grace is on vacation."
"Help? You let her access company documents? Son, are you insane?"
She pointed her finger at me. "Send her away now! Otherwise, I'll call your father and grandmother! Let them come and drive her away themselves!"
Richard hesitated briefly before giving in. "Fine. I'll send her away immediately."
"Richard..." his name squeezed past my lips like a strangled whisper. My body trembled with anger and betrayal.
"Laura, go pack your things," he said, his voice low.
I reluctantly went upstairs to pack.
As I passed Emma's room, I heard her muffled sobs. The staff stood guard outside her door, avoiding my gaze.
I paused. "Emma is a Harrison," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "If she suffers any harm—even the slightest scratch—the Harrison family will not let you off lightly."
With what little dignity I had left, I walked down the stairs one last time, past this man who had once again chosen his family over our love.