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Chapter 8
But Mason didn't spare Miss Taylor a single glance. Instead, he clung to me, begging. "Jenna, please, I'm begging you—don't leave me. Please forgive me."
From somewhere in the crowd, a voice piped up loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Why bother begging her, Mason? Just divorce her already. What's the point of being a rich man if you're groveling like this?"
That snapped Mason out of his daze. He gripped my arm tighter, refusing to let go.
Miss Taylor, fed up with his lack of spine, yanked him back and hissed, "Mr. Carter, why are you debasing yourself like this for a woman like her? She doesn't love you or your daughter. Just a few weeks ago, I saw her with a younger man at a hotel—kissing and all over each other in the lobby. Totally inappropriate! She's using your money to fund her affairs. Why are you still holding onto someone like that?"
"If you don't cut ties with her now, what's Angie going to think when she grows up and finds out her mom is such a disgrace? She'll be ruined by her influence."
The crowd, already eating up the drama, fell silent. The tension was palpable as whispers rippled through the room, and the eyes on me were filled with judgment.
I'd had enough.
Without hesitation, I stepped forward, grabbed Miss Taylor by her hair, and delivered two sharp slaps across her face.
The crowd gasped as her cheeks swelled red almost instantly. She stared at me, wide-eyed and completely stunned.
"You—how dare you hit me?" she screeched, clutching her face. "I'm calling the police! I'll get a medical report and sue you for everything you've got!"
I pulled out my phone, dialing the police without breaking my calm demeanor.
"You don't need to call. I'll do it for you," I said, my voice cold as ice.
"I don't mind paying for the bruises on your face. But slandering me and defaming my character? That's going to cost you more than you can afford. Don't worry—I'll make sure you get a criminal record. Let's see how that affects your future. Good luck explaining that to your kids when they can't even apply for a government job because of you."
I mimicked her condescending tone, smirking as I added, "How does that sound, Miss Taylor?"
But instead of backing down, Miss Taylor straightened up, sneering defiantly. "Go ahead and call! I'm not scared. Everything I said is true. I saw it with my own eyes. When the police get here, I'll tell them the exact same thing."
Mason, who had been silent until now, suddenly grabbed Miss Taylor by the shoulders and shook her slightly. "You saw it? Are you sure? Did you really see it with your own eyes?" he demanded, his voice sharp.
Miss Taylor faltered for just a second, but then quickly regained her composure, her arrogance flooding back. "Of course, I did. Why would I lie about something like that? She's married to a man like you, and yet she's out there fooling around. Honestly, it's pathetic."
Mason's expression shifted, and for a brief moment, something almost gleeful flashed in his eyes. He turned to me with a smug tone.
"Jenna, don't forget what's in our prenuptial agreement. If either of us cheats, the guilty party leaves with nothing."
His voice grew louder, as though announcing his victory to the crowd.
"I don't care about the company, but the three downtown apartments? The luxury cars in the garage? And all that money in our joint accounts? Those are mine now."
He pulled Miss Taylor into his arms, grinning triumphantly.
"Thank you, Taylor. You're my lucky charm. Finally, I can get rid of this woman and never have to live under her thumb again. Once the divorce is finalized, we'll get married. With all that money and those properties, we'll be set for life."
Miss Taylor, still nursing her swollen face, seemed momentarily dazed but quickly recovered. Her smugness returned as she added, "If she cheated, why does she still get to keep the company? Mason, if you don't know how to run it, we can just hire someone to manage it for us."
Mason froze, his confidence faltering. He didn't know how to respond. The truth was simple: the company was my family's business. Even if I had cheated—which I hadn't—he didn't have the skills or the right to take it over.
And I wasn't about to let him walk away with even a shred of dignity.
I smiled coldly and stepped forward.
"Didn't you hear what he just said?" I addressed the crowd, my voice steady. "He's nothing more than a live-in husband. A kept man."