Chapter 3: The Fallout

Most guests began to slip out, collecting their fur coats and calling for their drivers, murmuring about early flights they definitely didn’t have. My parents’ faces were pale; my mother trembled, nearly collapsing before my father steadied her with the strength that built Mitchell Enterprises from nothing.

My father kept his composure—thirty years in boardrooms had taught him not to bleed when sharks circled. “Our Mitchell family will not tolerate slander. This marriage is over, as Mr. Harrison wished. Patterson & Associates will be in touch about further… discussions.”

He turned to Ethan, voice hard as granite. “Today is my daughter’s eighteenth birthday. Please leave. Security can escort you if necessary.”

A flash of regret darted across Ethan’s face, gone almost before it appeared. He hadn’t meant for things to go nuclear. Watching me walk away—confident, head high, just like when we were kids—he panicked. The thought that our marriage was truly over made him lash out, spoiled and desperate.

But the words were out, and in this world, reputation is everything. Now, everyone would pretend to believe the worst over brunch at the club. Ethan’s logic was twisted: if I was ruined, I’d have to marry him. He’d take responsibility, buy me a Hamptons house, let me redecorate the Manhattan penthouse, play the part of the doting husband.

That thought seemed to comfort him. With that infamous Harrison smirk—the one Bloomberg loved—he turned to my father:

“Mr. Mitchell, today was my mistake. But what’s done is done. Claire and I have been intimate. You know what that means.”

“Rest assured, I’m not a scoundrel. The marriage contract stands. After the party, my family’s gifts will be delivered—mother’s diamonds, grandfather’s Monet. The works.”

He paused, glancing at Emma—still cowering in his shadow—then continued, his tone icy, as if ordering coffee.

As the ring hit the marble, I realized—this was the last time I’d ever let Ethan Harrison write my story.

As Ethan smirked at my father, I realized—he hadn’t just ruined my birthday. He’d declared war.