Chapter 5: The Cost of a Handbag<\/p>\n
\u201cCome with me. We are talking. Right now,\u201d Callahan growled.<\/p>\n
The stench of stale bourbon and raw, panicked adrenaline rolled off him in waves. He dragged me roughly toward a secluded alcove near the emergency fire exits, desperate to escape the dozens of cell phone cameras that were undoubtedly recording his family\u2019s destruction. He shoved me back slightly against a wall of expensive floral arrangements, his eyes completely devoid of the man I once loved.<\/p>\n
\u201cDelaney, have you lost your absolute damn mind?\u201d he hissed, running his hands frantically through his perfectly styled hair. \u201cDo you realize what you just did? You publicly humiliated my mother. You humiliated my entire hometown. Do you have zero shame?\u201d<\/p>\n
I slowly rubbed my bruised wrist, looking up at him with a smile so cold it could have frozen the lake outside. \u201cThe only people who humiliated your family are you and your mother, Callahan. I am simply protecting my assets. Did you honestly expect me to just stand there and smile while your mother picks my pocket and your relatives treat me like an open tab?\u201d<\/p>\n
Callahan let out a frustrated, condescending sigh. He slipped effortlessly into the pleading, slightly patronizing tone he used every time he wanted me to buy him something expensive.<\/p>\n
\u201cLook. Okay. Mom screwed up. But her heart was in the right place. Now the secret is out, and it\u2019s incredibly awkward for everyone. But listen to me, Delaney\u2026\u201d He leaned in, trying to use his height to intimidate me. \u201cYou are a highly successful CEO. What is forty thousand dollars to you, really? That is literally the price of one of those stupid vintage Herm\u00e8s Birkin bags you obsess over. It\u2019s pocket change for your business. Are you seriously going to blow up our entire relationship and send my family to the poorhouse over the cost of a handbag?\u201d<\/p>\n
I stood petrified. His words were like boiling water thrown directly into my face, melting away the absolute last microscopic sliver of hope I harbored for his redemption.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did you just say to me?\u201d I whispered, my voice vibrating with a rage so deep it felt entirely calm.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m saying you make money in your sleep!\u201d he shot back, his sociopathic indifference fully exposed. \u201cYour profit margins are crazy. Just pull the cash out of your corporate account and clear the debt. Nobody dies. Look at it as an early wedding gift. Once we\u2019re married, your money is going to be our money anyway. Why are we splitting hairs? Go pay the manager, and everything goes back to normal.\u201d<\/p>\n
He genuinely believed it. In his eyes, my relentless work ethic, my late nights, my sacrifices\u2014they meant absolutely nothing. Because I was successful, he felt entitled to treat my bank account as a public utility for his family\u2019s vanity.<\/p>\n
\u201cI will tell you the difference, Callahan,\u201d I replied, enunciating every word like a judge delivering a death sentence. \u201cI buy a Birkin bag, I take care of it, and in ten years, it appreciates in value. I throw forty grand into the gaping black hole of your family, and it vanishes forever, leaving me with nothing but leeches permanently attached to my spine. It is a terrible return on investment.\u201d<\/p>\n
He opened his mouth to shout, but I held up a single finger, silencing him.<\/p>\n
\u201cForty grand won\u2019t bankrupt me,\u201d I continued softly. \u201cBut I would rather withdraw it all in cash and set it on fire in the middle of the Chicago River than hand a single cent to a family of degenerate grifters. You don\u2019t respect me. You possess the psychology of a parasite, and it is baked into your DNA.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t you dare talk to me like that!\u201d he flared, his face turning a dangerous shade of crimson. \u201cIf you don\u2019t pay that bill, the hotel isn\u2019t letting you leave! You\u2019re the one throwing the party!\u201d<\/p>\n
I smiled. The genuinely terrifying smile of a CEO who holds the winning contract.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re wrong. Your mother signed the venue agreement ten days ago. The confirmation for the upgraded menu and the thirteen extra tables this morning? Also signed by Loretta. I simply wired her cash. Legally speaking, the sole liable party for this debt is Loretta, not me. My legal obligation is zero.\u201d<\/p>\n
Callahan\u2019s jaw dropped. His face turned the color of wet cement. He had banked entirely on my fear of public embarrassment, completely underestimating my legal and business acumen.<\/p>\n
\u201cGo tell your mother to start liquidating her assets,\u201d I whispered, shoving past him.<\/p>\n
I left him standing in the shadows, impotent and ruined, as I walked back out to the stage. I had one final piece of evidence to present. The kill shot.
\n<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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