Chapter 4 - The House of Cards
The detectives did not put Piper in handcuffs in the ballroom.
They simply escorted her out, her white satin dress suddenly looking less like a bridal gown and more like a surrender flag.
The ballroom was in absolute chaos.
Board members were already whispering into their phones.
Donors were walking toward the coat check.
Charles Ashford’s wife—Grant’s mother—stood up from her table, took off her wedding ring, dropped it into her champagne glass, and walked out without saying a single word.
Charles tried to follow her.
Grant grabbed his father’s shoulder and shoved him hard against a marble pillar.
“Don’t you ever speak to me again,” Grant hissed.
I watched the Ashford men tear their empire apart.
I didn't scream.
I didn't cry.
I walked down from the podium, perfectly composed.
Grant saw me moving toward the exit.
He let go of his father and rushed toward me.
“Wait,” Grant begged, his eyes wide and desperate. “Please. You have to know I didn't know about the baby being his.”
“I know,” I said.
“Then we can fix this. I was a fool, but I’m the victim here too!”
I looked at the man I had married.
“You aren't a victim, Grant. You chose to sleep with her. You chose to lie to me. You chose to let her believe my home was hers.”
“I’m sorry!”
“So am I.”
I handed him a thick white envelope.
May you like
“What is this?” he asked.
“The divorce papers,” I said. “And the eviction notice.”
