Chapter 4Receipts of Revenge

The next morning, I called in sick to work.

I found the contact information for the talk show online.

When I called, the operator’s voice was formal and detached.

“Hello, you’ve reached ‘The Midnight Hour.’”

“Hello, I’d like to speak to your producer.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, but our producer—”

“Tell him I’m Noah Wells’s founding partner from when he first started his business.”

I paused, then added, “I saw that you’ll be having Ms. Isabella Carbonari on your show next week to talk about Mr. Wells’s success story.”

There were a few seconds of silence on the other end.

“Please hold.”

A moment later, a sharp, savvy-sounding male voice came on the line.

“Hello, this is Mark Wallace, producer for ‘The Midnight Hour.’”

“Hello.”

“And you are…?”

“My name is Chloe Reed.”

I could feel the breath catch on the other end of the line. He clearly recognized the name.

“Ms. Reed, hello!” His tone immediately became warmer, more enthusiastic. “What can I do for you?”

“I hear Ms. Carbonari will be sharing the inspiration behind Noah’s cuisine on your show?”

“Yes, as Chef Wells’s… soulmate, Ms. Carbonari has a very deep understanding of his creative philosophy.”

I smiled.

“Your show values exclusivity and authenticity, correct?”

“Of course. It’s the foundation of our brand.”

“Good.”

I spoke each word clearly and deliberately.

“I know the real, never-before-told stories behind every single one of Maison Noah’s signature dishes.”

“And I think your audience might be more interested in that than in Ms. Carbonari’s philosophy on love.”

The line went completely silent.

I could picture the expression on Mark Wallace’s face. As a media professional, he had to smell the massive, explosive potential of this story.

After a full thirty seconds, he spoke again, his voice thick with suppressed excitement.

“Ms. Reed, are you saying…?”

“My meaning is simple.”

“Give me a live video call-in. I’ll give you the ratings.”

“Done!”

Mark didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Ms. Reed, our show is all about the truth! You can rest assured we will provide you with a fair and impartial platform.”

“During the live show next Friday, we’ll set up a ‘Live Call-In’ segment. I will guarantee you at least ten minutes of airtime.”

“Perfect.”

I hung up.

I looked out at the gray, overcast sky.

But inside, I felt a calm I hadn't felt in a very long time.

I walked to the mirror. My face was pale, with faint dark circles under my eyes. My lips were a little chapped.

This was me.

The me who worked two jobs to pay off debts.

The me who hadn’t bought new clothes in ages to save money.

The me who, after the breakup, couldn’t be bothered to dress up for anyone.

I stared at my reflection for a long time.

Then, I turned and pulled open a drawer. From the very back, I retrieved a makeup bag lightly coated in dust.

Noah had bought it for me a long time ago, with his very first paycheck from a part-time job.

I opened it. The contents were still good.

I took out the tube of Dior 999.

I used to only wear it when we went to important dinners together.

I twisted the lipstick open and looked at the person in the mirror.

Then, slowly, carefully, I painted my lips a brilliant, commanding red.

The person in the mirror, it seemed, had just come back to life.