The math locked into place in his brain like the heavy steel door of a bank vault slamming shut.
He remembered the stormy night he left. He remembered the exact way I had stood in the bedroom. He remembered my hand, resting protectively inside the pocket of my silk robe. He remembered asking me what I was holding, and the cold, dead look in my eyes when I told him it was nothing he needed to worry about.
He looked at Aria’s eyes. His eyes. He looked at the dimple in her cheek. His dimple.
The blood drained completely, violently from his face, leaving him the sickly, translucent color of wet ash. The psychological weight of the universe—the absolute, crushing realization of what he had thrown away for a cheap affair—physically crushed the air from his lungs.
He grabbed the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white, his chest heaving as a sudden, suffocating panic attack seized his entire nervous system.
The jazz band began to play a soft, uplifting melody, signaling the end of the presentation and the beginning of the dinner service.
Graham didn’t care. He physically shoved his chair back so violently it tipped over and crashed to the floor. He ignored Paige’s frantic, embarrassed questions, ignoring her grabbing at his sleeve.
He began to push violently, aggressively through the crowded tables of billionaires and socialites, making a desperate, panicked beeline toward the edge of the stage. His voice tore from his throat in a ragged, animalistic shout.
“Sadie!”
He reached the steps leading up to the stage, only to find his path suddenly, aggressively blocked by a solid wall of massive, unyielding, heavily armed private security guards wearing earpieces.
“Sir, step back,” the lead guard barked, placing a heavy hand flat against Graham’s chest, stopping the CEO dead in his tracks.
Chapter 5: The Dissection of the Narcissist
The backstage hallway was heavily guarded, restricted to VIPs only, but Graham burst through the heavy double doors like a wild-eyed, frantic shell of the polished executive he had been ten minutes prior.
Paige was trailing right behind him. Her face was twisted in absolute, humiliating horror as she watched her husband completely unravel over the existence of another woman’s child. Her perfect, curated life was imploding in real-time.
“Sadie!” Graham choked out, his voice cracking.
He didn’t walk toward me; his knees gave out entirely. He fell to the carpeted floor of the hallway, tears streaming freely down his face, ruining his expensive tuxedo.
I stood a safe distance away, flanked by my head of security. I was holding Aria comfortably against my hip. Aria looked down at the weeping, pathetic stranger on the floor with mild, detached curiosity, entirely unaffected by his breakdown.
For complete preparation instructions, go to the next page or click the Open button (>). Don't forget to SHARE with your friends on Facebook.
