Chapter 3 - The Mistress’s Reality Check
Sloane Avery had always imagined her life as a movie where she was the glamorous, undeniable star. She had pictured penthouse views, private jets to Milan, and a limitless black card.
The reality of her victory, however, arrived in the form of a cramped, two-bedroom apartment that smelled faintly of cheap takeout and mounting despair.
Through mutual acquaintances and my private investigator, the glorious details of their fallout made their way back to me. Preston had indeed shown up at Sloane’s door after being locked out of our shared Central Park penthouse. But he wasn't the suave, powerful billionaire she had fallen for. He was a broken, frantic man facing federal prison.
For the first forty-eight hours, Sloane tried to play the supportive partner. She rubbed his shoulders and told him they would get through it. But the romance shattered the moment she tried to use the supplementary credit card Preston had given her to book a "stress-relief" spa day. The card was declined.
When Sloane returned to her apartment, furious, she demanded Preston fix it. Instead, Preston snapped. Stripped of his money and his power, his true, venomous nature came out. He blamed her entirely. He screamed that if she hadn't been so desperate for attention at the gala, he would have closed the Westbridge deal and paid off the debts before anyone noticed.
"You ruined my life!" Preston had yelled, pacing her small living room. "You were supposed to be a distraction, Sloane! Not a wrecking ball!"
"You told me you loved me!" she screamed back, hurling a vase at the wall. "You told me she was nothing but a cold, useless trust-fund baby!"
"That trust-fund baby is the only reason I am not in handcuffs right now!" he roared.
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The illusion was dead. Sloane realized that she hadn't won a prize; she had won a liability. Two days later, Sloane was quietly let go from her event planning firm. Her boss, a woman who relied heavily on the goodwill of high-society families like mine, informed Sloane that her "public display" had made her radioactive to their clientele.
Broke, unemployed, and tethered to a disgraced man who despised her, Sloane packed a single suitcase and fled back to her hometown in the Midwest, leaving Preston entirely alone in an empty apartment he couldn't pay for.
