Chapter 61
~ Bella ~
"He fucking broke up with ...that spineless asshole!" I snarled, taking a jagged swing of my beer.
I was perched on a sticky stool in a dive bar downtown, intent on drinking myself into a stupor. I didn’t want to think about Franklin. I didn’t want to think about the lifestyle that had just slipped through my fingers—the designer bags, the penthouse views, my one-way ticket out of this wasteland. It was all gone. The sheer unfairness of it clawed at my throat. I had spent years molding myself into exactly what he wanted, playing the part of being his ’faithful’ lover while he paraded that mousey Octavia around like she was so prize. And for what? To be discarded the mont she grew a backbone?
"He’s a jerk, isn’t he?" I turned to the bartender, my eyes unfocused.
He didn’t even look up from the glass he was polishing.
"Lady, I don’t even know who you’re talking about."
"I’m talking about my ex. The Great and mighty Franklin Flemington. He dumped ! Probably because he’s catching feelings for that little charity case of a wife," I slurred, the bitterness coating my tongue like lead. "She thinks she’s won because he tossed gifts her way, but she has no idea how quickly the tide is in this town. He’ll grow bored of her ’purity’ within a month, and I’ll be the one laughing when she’s back in the gutter where she belongs."
"I think you’ve had enough, Miss. You should head ho, you are already wasted."
I glanced at the counter.
Six empty bottles were huddled together like a tiny glass graveyard.
"Woah. Did I drink all those?" I giggled, staring at the half-full bottle in my hand. "I thought I was only on my fourth."
"It’s your seventh. But who’s counting, you should go ho Miss?" the bartender muttered, walking away to attend to soone else.
"Hey! You don’t tell what to do! I’ll leave when I’m ready!" I yelled after him, punctuated by a loud hiccup. I slumped back over my drink. "Actually, he’s right. I’m wasted." The room was beginning to tilt, the neon beer signs blurring into jagged streaks of light that made my head throb. I felt a wave of nausea, but I pushed it down with a surge of stubborn pride. I wasn’t going to crawl away like a wounded dog.
I pulled out my phone to call Rufus. I hadn’t heard from him in days, not since he promised to give Octavia a ’visit’ at her office. The line went straight to voicemail for the fourth ti.
"The person you are calling is not available..."
"Yeah, yeah... join the club," I muttered, draining the last of my beer. I wobbled as I stood up, catching my balance on the edge of the bar before stumbling toward the exit. My legs felt like jelly, and the floor seed to rise up to et with every staggered step I took. I nearly knocked over a table of bikers, but I didn’t care. I was Bella freaking Washington and I didn’t owe anyone an apology.
The cool night air hit like a slap to the face.
As the heavy bar door swung shut behind , I sensed a shadow detach itself from the brick wall.
"I heard what you said in there," a smooth, cultured voice spoke from the darkness.
I staggered back, narrowing my eyes against the streetlights to see the silhouette of a man in an expensive overcoat. "Who are you?"
"Dorian Harrington. And you are?"
"Bella... Bella Washington," I replied, my words thick and clumsy.
"A pleasure. I heard you ntion a na. Franklin Flemington? You know him personally, I take it?"
"He was my boyfriend. Until he threw away like trash." I rubbed my cheeks, the alcohol making my skin feel tight and itchy. "He used to satisfy his urges while he played house with that little tramp. Now he thinks he can just delete from his life like a bad contact. He has no idea what I’m capable of when I’m backed into a corner."
"I see. You must be feeling a powerful urge for so...cosmic justice."
I smirked, the drunken haze sharpening into a cold, focused malice. "I want revenge. On him and that whore he calls a ’fake’ wife."
Dorian stepped closer, his eyes glinting. "Did you say ’fake’ wife?"
"That’s exactly what I said." I nodded vigorously, nearly losing my balance. "They didn’t marry for love. They married to bury a scandal. Old man Frederick forced the engagent to save face. It’s all a performance." "It was a contact, marriage of convenience. It’s all a lie built to keep the Flemington legacy alive"
Dorian’s smile was slow and predatory. "That is exactly what I needed to hear. You know, Miss Washington, I was the one who leaked that original scandal. It seems we have a common enemy."
"No shit," I giggled, leaning against a lamp post.
"Would you like to join in dismantling the Flemington dynasty? I have the resources, and it sounds like you have the inside information."
"Heck yeah! Sign up."
"Wonderful." He held out a hand, and I shook it with drunken enthusiasm. "We should exchange numbers. If we’re going to burn their world down, we need to be in constant contact." "I have enough dirt to bury them both ten feet under. I’ve been keeping a little insurance policy for a rainy day, and it’s looking like a monsoon is coming."
We swapped digits, my fingers fumbling over the screen.
"Can you drop off at my place?" I asked, my head starting to reel. "I drank way too much."
"Of course," Dorian said, gesturing toward a sleek black sedan idling at the curb.
As we drove, the alcohol didn’t make sleepy anymore—it made feel powerful. We talked about Octavia, about Franklin, and about the beautiful, scorched-earth revenge we were going to rain down on them. Dorian spoke of boardroom and stock market crashes, while I focused on the personal ruin—the look on Octavia’s face when her little fairytale is exposed as a fraudulent nightmare. The power in the car was intoxicating, a different kind of high that made my blood sing with anticipation.
By the ti we reached my building, a wide, wicked grin was spread across my lips.
The Flemingtons thought they were untouchable. They were about to find out how wrong they were. "Watch out Franklin," I whispered as I stepped out of the car, my vision finally clearing with a newfound sense of purpose. "You wanted to end things with ? Well, I’m going to end everything for you."
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