C15, PT. 3

She shifted restlessly as her mind raced ahead to the impending intervention. She considered Googling how to confront an addict, but she was too pissed off to care what the professionals recommended. Her sister had no problem expressing herself the last time they were face to face. Well, now, it was her turn. Bottom line was, this was going to stop. Besides the fact that Ariana was a mother, she was running a company that Jasmine had given up a year of her life for. She wasn’t going to make such a sacrifice for Ariana to fuck it up because of an addiction that influenced her decision-making. Hennessy & Co couldn’t end with them. It had to be passed onto the next generation. She would ensure that happened by any means necessary.

They were at a standstill in traffic when Mo stepped out of the vehicle. She straightened as he opened her door and extended his hand. Once they were on the sidewalk, he gestured to Bergdorf Goodman, a luxury department store.

“Are you sure?” she began before she remembered the surveillance photos. Her sister didn’t meet her dealer in a bar or park. They met at the most exclusive stores, where no one would imagine anything illicit was going on.

At the sound of multiple doors slamming, she glanced back and saw two men hop out of a black SUV. She’d been keeping her second security team busy over the past two weeks. She wasn’t allowed to interact with them in case someone was watching, but she was starting to recognize their faces and was aware they were always hovering on the periphery.

As she approached the store, Mo placed himself between her and the crowd clustered in front of the eye-catching seasonal window displays. She pushed through the revolving door. It wasn’t until she scanned the bustling main floor that she realized Ariana could be on any of the nine floors. Did Ariana and her dealer make a show of shopping before they went to the dressing room to make the exchange, or did they…? She rounded the corner and saw her sister standing in front of an illuminated wall of Celine handbags. Beside her was the glamorous dealer she saw in photos. The dealer, Mrs. Upper East Side, gave Ariana a million dollar smile as she spoke with her hands. Even as she strode toward them, she saw the woman slip something into Ariana’s purse. It was done so casually, if she hadn’t been watching so intently, she would have missed it. Her heartbeat doubled as she closed the distance between them.

“Am I interrupting?”

Ariana jolted and whirled, clutching her purse with both hands, while Mrs. Upper East Side kept her cool and gave Jasmine a polite, inquisitive smile.

“Have we met?” the woman asked.

“No.” She didn’t smile or attempt to be civil. “And I don’t want to know you.”

The woman’s polished smile faltered.

“The next time my sister calls, I suggest you ignore it, unless you want me to take the surveillance photos I have of your business transactions over the past year to the cops.” She ignored Ariana’s gasp and finished with, “I suggest you take up another profession. You’ve been made.”

The drug dealer glanced at Ariana before she took a step back, clutching the strap of her Birkin as her eyes darted around them. “I think there’s been a terrible mistake.”

“No mistake.” As the woman paled, she turned away and said, “Let’s go,” without looking at her sister.

She didn’t wait to see if Ariana followed. She stalked through the store and shoved through the revolving door into the biting cold. Before she reached the crosswalk, Ariana appeared beside her. Neither of them spoke. By mutual accord, they made their way to Central Park.

“What do you know?” Ariana asked.

Her hands fisted in the pocket of her coat. “How it began, your attempts to get help, and it’s escalation.”

“How?” Ariana rasped.

“Roth.”

Ariana stopped dead in her tracks, her expression horrified. “Roth? How? Why?”

“He has a vested interest in Hennessy & Co. You think he wouldn’t do his research on the executives to see why the company’s in the state it is now?”

She saw she made her point when Ariana’s face drained of all color. She shuffled to the side as a woman passed with three dogs. When Ariana stayed in place, eyes glassy with shock, she forced her sister down on a bench. They sat side by side, staring at the pond. Mo leaned against a tree, seemingly taking in the tranquil setting, while the other guards blended in with those strolling along the walking paths.

“Who knows?” Ariana whispered.

“I was going to ask you the same question.”

Ariana clutched her purse with both hands as she shook her head. “No one.”

“Not even Rami?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ariana’s face crumple before she averted her face. She stared straight ahead as Ariana struggled to compose herself.

“You haven’t told Colette?” Ariana asked in a husky monotone.

“Not yet.”

“What is Roth going to do?”

“What do you think he should do?” she countered.

Silence.

“I tried to get help. I was clean for a couple of months and then Dad died and…”

The anguish in her sister’s voice made her throat thicken.

“I know it’s wrong. I tried to stop, but…”

“You relapsed half a dozen times this year.”

Ariana’s breath gusted out of her in a white cloud. The fact that Ariana didn’t try to dispute the claim spoke volumes. Roth’s meticulous investigation, as she suspected, was too detailed to give his victims any wiggle room when he decided to play his hand. The fact that he was giving her this opportunity to deal with her sister before he took control filled her with gratitude. She only had one chance to warn her sister she had to change or else.

This can’t go on. There’s too much at stake. Not just for you or the company, but for Kye and Bailey as well.”

Ariana blinked rapidly. “I know.”

She examined her sister, trying to decipher what was going on behind that blank mask. “Why made you break your streak today? Is it work? With Colette out, is it too much for you to handle?”

Ariana surged up from the bench and pivoted to face her. “I’ve been managing just fine on my own.”

She rose and went toe to toe with her sister. “You haven’t been managing. You’ve been coping. The evidence of that is in your purse.”

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

Copyright © 2024 Mia Knight. All Rights Reserved.