81 Chapter 84
Chapter 84 – Giselle’s Gambit and a Glistening Clue
The Imperial Garden loomed before me like a fortress, its elegant facade hiding the ambush that awaited inside. I checked my watch: 1:55 PM. Being five minutes early to my own execution seemed ironically appropriate.
I’d spent the morning in a state of controlled panic, wondering what “evidence” Giselle could possibly have. Nothing had happened between Damien and me during my marriage–not physically, at least. My conscience was clear on that front. But would the court of public opinion see it that way if Giselle twisted something innocent? The truth was, I wasn’t here for myself. I was here for Damien. He’d already done so much for me; the last thing I wanted was to drag his name through the mud. Whatever game Giselle was playing, I needed to shut it down before it touched him.
“Ms. Ashworth? Right this way, please.” A hostess in a crisp uniform greeted me at the entrance. “Ms. Grayson is already seated.”
Of course she was. Giselle always made sure to establish the upper hand, even in something as trivial as arrival times.
She sat at a corner table, impeccably dressed in a red designer suit that probably cost more than most people’s monthly salary. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe bun, highlighting cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. When she saw me approach, her red–painted lips curved into what might generously be called a smile.
“Hazel. You’re on time. How pleasant.” Her voice dripped with false warmth.
I slid into the seat across from her. “Let’s skip the pretense, Giselle. You said you have a video. I’d like to see it.”
She tsked, wagging a perfectly manicured finger. “Always so direct. That’s what Julian never liked about you, you know. No sense of… finesse.” She signaled to a waiter. “We’ll order first. I’m famished.”
My patience was already wearing thin. “I didn’t come here to have lunch with you.”
“And yet, here you are.” She smiled thinly. “The roast duck here is divine. My treat, of
course.”
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The waiter appeared, and Giselle ordered enough food for four people. I requested only water, having no intention of staying long enough to cat.
“Now, about this alleged video-” I began when the waiter left.
“My brother is miserable, you know,” Giselle interrupted, examining her manicure. “He made a mistake. A horrible, stupid mistake that he regrets every day.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “If you called me here to plead Julian’s case, you’re wasting both our time.”
“He was manipulated by that conniving little stepsister of yours,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “She played the dying card, and Julian’s always had a weakness for saving people. It’s his nature.”
“His nature?” I couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped. “His nature was to throw away six years of our relationship for a woman who deliberately set out to steal him from me. His nature was to let me find out about it through a wedding invitation.”
Giselle waved her hand dismissively. “Details. The point is, he knows he messed And now that the little homewrecker is dead-
- up.
“Her name was Ivy,” I said coldly. “And while I’m not mourning her, I’d appreciate if you didn’t speak ill of the dead.”
“How saintly of you,” Giselle sneered. “Especially considering you’re the one who moved on so quickly with Damien Sterling.”
There it was. The real purpose of this meeting.
“I did not cheat on Julian,” I stated firmly. “Whatever you think you have-”
Our drinks arrived, interrupting the conversation. Giselle took a delicate sip of her cocktail before continuing.
“How
“You know what I find interesting?” She leaned forward, lowering her vo quickly Sterling swooped in. Almost as if he was waiting in the wings for your marriage to fall apart.”
A chill ran down my spine. Her words uncomfortably echoed thoughts I’d occasionally had myself. The timing of Damien’s appearance in my life had been… convenient.
“That has nothing to do with cheating,” I countered. “Now, are you going to show me
<
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this supposed evidence, or should I leave?”
Giselle reached for her handbag, then paused. “Oh, silly me.” She stood abruptly, bumping the table hard enough to rock our drinks. “I left my phone in my car. I’ll just
She made a show of stumbling, knocking into a passing waiter who carried a tray with several dishes. As if choreographed, a dish of dark sauce went flying directly toward me, splashing across my cream–colored blouse and skirt.
“Oh no!” Giselle gasped with theatrical concern. “I’m so terribly sorry!”
The waiter apologized profusely, offering napkins and suggesting the restroom. I accepted both, excusing myself with as much dignity as I could muster while wearing
chest. what looked like chocolate syrup across my
In the bathroom, I assessed the damage. My outfit was ruined, and I had a sinking suspicion that the “accident” had been intentional. Was Giselle just trying to humiliate me, or was there something more to this childish prank?
I did the best I could with paper towels and soap, but returned to the table looking like I’d lost a fight with a dessert cart.
“I am just mortified,” Giselle said, not looking mortified at all. “Let me pay for your dry cleaning.”
“The video, Giselle,” I insisted through gritted teeth. “Show it to me now, or I’m leaving.”
“Fine, fine.” She finally produced her phone, tapping through a few screens before turning it toward me. “Explain this, then.”
I watched as a shaky video played, clearly filmed from a distance. It showed Damien and me walking together near his office building, deep in conversation. He leaned in at one point, saying something that made me laugh. There was nothing in minating about it–just two people talking.
“That’s it?” I couldn’t hide my disbelief. “That’s your evidence of an affair?”
“You look quite cozy,” she accused. “When was this taken? Before or after you signed divorce papers?”
I squinted at the timestamp. “This was two weeks ago. Julian and I were already
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separated for months by then, and the divorce application was already filed. I pushed her phone back toward her. “This proves nothing except that I have business
meetings.”
“Business meetings?” She arched an eyebrow. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
“Damien Sterling is a client,” I said firmly. “He commissioned several suits from my studio. That’s what you’re seeing–a discussion about his order.”
Giselle’s face fell slightly, suggesting she’d expected a more dramatic reaction from me. The waiter arrived with our food, placing several elaborate dishes between us. “Well,” she recovered quickly, “since we’re both here, we might as well eat.”
I stood, grabbing my purse. “I don’t think so. Your ‘evidence‘ is nothing but a pathetic attempt to cause trouble. I’m leaving.”
“Wait!” She reached for my arm. “Don’t be hasty. I ordered all this food…”
“Then enjoy it yourself.”
“Look,” her voice softened, “I’m sorry about the sauce. That really was an accident. At least have some of this duck–it’s truly exceptional. And the fresh orange juice here is
divine.”
Something about her insistence made me suspicious. First the “accident” with the sauce, now this desperate attempt to keep me here. What was she really after?
ted cally
Reluctantly, I sat back down. If Giselle had another play, I wanted to know what it was.
A glass of bright orange juice sat by my plate. I reached for it, noticing Giselle watching me intently.
“You said Julian is miserable,” I said, buying time. “Has he considered therapy? It might help him process the loss of his wife and move on with his life.”
Giselle’s lips tightened at the subtle reminder that Julian had, in fact, m
ed Ivy. “He
doesn’t need therapy. He needs you.”
“That’s not going to happen.” I lifted the straw to my lips, then paused.
Something caught my eye–a strange white residue clinging to the inside of the straw,
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almost like a foamy substance that hadn’t fully dissolved. It glistened against the orange liquid, barely noticeable unless you were looking directly at it.
My hand froze midair as realization dawned. The spilled sauce. The desperate attempts to keep me here. The insistence that I drink this particular juice.
I slowly lowered the glass, my heart pounding. What exactly had Giselle Grayson put in my drink, and what had she planned to do to me once it took effect?
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