Chapter 3Her Assistant Can Have Her

I’d heard those words before.

Three years ago, when I was the one bleeding out from eight stab wounds, Madeline had screamed those exact words at Dominic.

Now, she was using them as a weapon against me.

When I remained silent, her face flushed with fury. She grabbed a crystal wine glass and hurled it at my head.

“Apologize! Or we’re done! I’ll ruin you!”

The glass shattered against my forehead.

I felt the warm trail of blood begin to slide down my face, dripping off the tip of my nose.

The room went dead silent. Madeline froze, the realization of what she’d done finally hitting her. She bit her lip, looking down at her hands.

“Madeline,” Dominic whispered, his eyes gleaming with hidden satisfaction despite his act. “Forget it. It’s my fault. I’ll apologize to Mr. Beaumont. I shouldn't have caused a scene.”

He was a fox. He knew exactly how to play the martyr to make me look like the villain.

“You’re so much more mature than he is,” Madeline murmured. She looked at me, her expression softening just a fraction, though her voice remained haughty. “Harry, you know how I am. If I’m happy, everything is fine. Just say you’re sorry so we can move on.”

I knew how she was. I’d spent five years catering to her every whim just to keep her smiling. But what about me? When did my happiness ever enter the equation?

I took a deep breath, wiping the blood from my eye. “It’s him or me, Madeline. Choose. Right now.”

The last of her guilt vanished. Her face hardened into a mask of pure, regal disdain.

“Harry Beaumont! You won’t sign, you won’t apologize, and now you’re giving me ultimatums? Fine. Go be alone then!”

She grabbed Dominic’s arm and turned toward the exit.

Dominic looked back over his shoulder at me. He didn't hide the smirk this time. He had won.

I watched her back as she walked away, the white train of her dress sweeping through the blood on the floor.

“As of today,” I said, my voice projecting through the hall, “Madeline Victor and I are nothing. It’s over.”

She paused for a second, her shoulders tensing, but she didn't look back.

The room erupted into chaos as the guests were ushered out.

“Sir.”

The hotel manager hurried toward me, dabbing at my forehead with a silk handkerchief while handing me a ringing phone. “Your father is on the line.”

I took the phone. “I heard the engagement is off?” my father asked. His voice was deep, devoid of the warmth he usually reserved for family.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m done.”

My voice was surprisingly steady. For the first time in five years, I felt at peace.

“You loved that girl like your life depended on it,” my father said sternly. “Are you sure? Because the moment you walk away, I’m pulling the Beaumont infrastructure. She will lose every advantage we gave her.”

He paused. “I’ll give you one night to think. If you walk away, there is no going back. You don’t chase, and you don’t crawl. Do you understand?”

He hung up.

I couldn't blame him for being skeptical. I had spent years being Madeline’s shadow, letting myself be diminished so she could shine.

I shook my head, clearing the lingering fog of her perfume. I told the manager to keep the kitchen open. I sat down at one of the empty tables and invited the staff to join me. If the food was paid for, someone should enjoy it.

A few hours later, the doors swung open. Madeline’s father, Arthur Victor, rushed in, still wearing his hospital wristband and a thin patient’s gown under his coat.

I thought he’d come to apologize for his daughter.

I was wrong.

“Harry! Have you lost your mind?” he screamed before he even reached the table. “Three years! You waited three years, what’s another three? Is my daughter not worth the wait?”

I took a slow sip of my scotch. “Is that really what you think this is about, Arthur?”