C17, PT. 2

She untangled the dainty E pendant and put it on, along with a diamond anklet, gold bangles, and a panther cocktail ring encrusted in diamonds. She surveyed herself in the mirror, decked out in her mother’s jewelry and her own. Although the jewelry winked and sparkled, it didn’t inspire a smile. That was beyond her. Her exhaustion was apparent in her pale, drawn features and lackluster eyes. Was she destined to share her mother’s lonely fate? Constantly searching for love, but never finding it?

She made her way over to an armchair and took in the view of Brooklyn and the East River. Seeing water reminded her of ships and life beyond this bustling city. In three hundred and twenty days, she could do whatever her heart desired. She had never experienced true freedom, but with her inheritance, she could make her dreams come true. The problem was, she didn’t have one at the moment.

She sipped from the delicate china. The coffee was so delicious, her eyelids drooped. She soaked in the moment, enjoying the quiet after a hectic week of last-minute Christmas shopping and cramming whatever appointments she could fit in before everyone left the city to travel for the holidays.

She met with Heinrich’s wife, Sabine, a sweet woman who was having a hard time adjusting to life in the States. She reached out to Colette for women in society who spoke German and could guide Sabine through her first events. Yesterday, she returned to the penthouse to find a gift basket of German chocolates, cheese, tea, and wine with a heartfelt note of gratitude.

She kept her word to Penelope’s son, Teddy, and sent every flavor of Pop-tart she could find and included Twinkies for Zach. She also sent a gift for little Mariah and the rest of the family. She gave Johnny camera gear that would help him with his work and a week-long stay at Sintra Marmòris Palace, a place both he and Aleixo admired, but never had the pleasure of staying. When they called to reprimand her for her “too generous” gift, Aleixo exploded when he found out that she was the American who bought over two hundred bottles of wine from the vineyard he worked at with his father.

Sarai found her an overeager personal assistant, Marisol, who put together baskets for everyone from the Davies to her board of advisors. Daiyu called within hours of receiving hers to inquire about the wine and when she was coming in for her fitting. Thankfully, there was a crisis on Daiyu’s end that cut the conversation short, but she received several threatening texts since then. Daiyu wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Marisol was as scarily efficient as Sarai and whittled down a list of over two hundred charities that met Jasmine’s criteria to a manageable thirty within a day. Her accountant had heart palpitations when she decided to donate ten percent of her inheritance—a whopping thirty million—spread amongst one dozen charities. Strangely, offloading a portion of her inheritance made her feel like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The paranoia of worrying about every cent and whether she would get a return on her investments made her toss and turn at night, but this… This was easy. Knowing the money would be well-used and that she was making a difference in the world made it easy to let go.

Drunk on her Santa Claus high, she decided to give Thea a bonus. The last thing she expected was a heated lecture from her normally sweet, soft-spoken housekeeper. Thea primly told her that her salary was more than sufficient and rejected the direct deposit. There was no arguing with her. Before Thea ended the call, she asked if Jasmine would be with her sisters for Christmas. She lied and said they hadn’t finalized their plans yet, but despite Lyle and Colette’s urgings, she held firm to her decision to keep her distance.

Based on the messages she received from her sisters, Roth hadn’t delivered his ultimatum yet. When he did, all hell was going to break loose. She knew Ariana’s consistent updates on her therapy appointments and that she was staying clean didn’t matter to him. Neither did the slew of pictures of Polara that Colette inundated their group chat with. Even if Colette didn’t realize it, she was enjoying her time off and finding joy in a simpler life that didn’t include the stress of running a company. Would Colette return to the grind and ignore Lyle’s desires for more children, or would she bow out of the company and let Roth take it over?

As she became aware of her tension, she tried to redirect her mind to something else, and heard the distant rumble of a man’s voice. She thought she was imagining things at first, but there was no mistaking the sharp clip of shoes as Roth came down the hall. Her heart picked up speed. What was he doing here during daylight hours?

When he appeared in the open doorway, she turned her head. He was dressed in a buttoned long-coat, gloves, and scarf. She held her breath as he gave the room a cursory glance. She doubted this gothic Barbie retreat was what he had in mind when he insisted she hire an interior designer. He didn’t look pleased, but that was the expression he’d worn since he returned from Los Angeles.

 He reverted back to the man he vowed he wouldn’t be this time around. He wasn’t cruel. It was worse. He looked right through her. She kept waiting for a break in his icy demeanor, but he wasn’t around long enough to thaw. During the handful of hours they spent in the same bed, they lay on opposite sides, without exchanging a word. It was the worst form of torture to be so close to the person you wanted and be so blatantly ignored. For the past week, he slept like a baby while she lay there in hell. He had no nightmares and no sexual appetite. It was like she didn’t exist.

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.

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