Chapter 4 - The Pressure Cooks
By six o’clock that evening, the story had broken.
Despite Bennett’s desperate attempts to buy off local news outlets and keep the incident quiet, video footage of the altercation in the St. Jude’s hallway leaked to the internet. It didn't take long for social media to explode.
The headline was everywhere: “Billionaire Bennett Finch Stands By as Mistress Attacks Pregnant Wife in Hospital.”
I sat in my plush bed, watching the coverage on the high-definition TV mounted on the wall. The camera footage was grainy, but the events were unmistakable: Margot lunging, the kick, me falling to the marble floor, and Bennett standing over me with his hand in his pockets, offering nothing but cold indifference.
Then came the second half of the video: Director Arthur Sterling arriving like an impending storm, threatening Bennett, and having Margot led away in handcuffs.
“The internet is eating him alive,” Victoria noted, sitting across from me with a laptop open. “Finch Global Holdings’ stock plummeted by fourteen percent in after-hours trading. Three major institutional investors have already called for an emergency board meeting tomorrow morning to demand Bennett’s resignation.”
I stared at the screen, watching talking heads on financial news networks analyze Bennett’s rapid fall. “He brought this on himself,” I said softly, feeling surprisingly little pity for the man I had once sworn to love forever.
“He did,” Victoria agreed. “And it gets better. Margot Vance is currently sitting in the Maricopa County Jail. Her bail was set at $500,000—a sum Bennett tried to pay two hours ago.”
I turned my head. “Tried?”
“Arthur blocked it,” Victoria smiled thinly. “The judge agreed with our argument that Margot poses a flight risk and an ongoing threat to a high-risk pregnant woman. Her bail request was denied until her formal arraignment on Monday.”
A soft knock at the door interrupted us. One of Arthur’s security detail stepped inside.
“Ms. Vance, Director Sterling,” the guard said. “Bennett Finch is downstairs in the lobby. He’s begging for five minutes with Ms. Halloway. He says he won't leave until he talks to her.”
Arthur, who had been quietly sipping tea by the window, didn't even turn around. “Have Alvarez escort him off the property.”
“Wait,” I said.
Arthur turned, eyebrows raised. “Tessa, you don't need to see that worm.”
“I want to see him,” I said, my voice steady. “Not down here. Not in private. Send him up, but keep security outside the door. I want him to say whatever lie he has prepared directly to my face.”
Arthur looked at me for a long moment, searching my eyes for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he gave a slow nod to the guard. “Five minutes. Not a second more.”
Ten minutes later, the door opened.
Bennett walked in, looking like a ghost of the crisp, immaculate billionaire who had stood over me earlier that morning. His tie was loosened, his hair was disheveled, and the sharp confidence in his eyes had been replaced by a wild, desperate panic.
He took two quick steps toward my bed, but Arthur stood up from his chair, his tall frame cutting off Bennett’s path instantly.
“Stay right there, Finch,” Arthur commanded.
Bennett stopped, swallowing hard. He looked past Arthur at me, sitting propped up on pillows, wearing a soft silk hospital robe provided by the VIP ward.
“Tessa,” Bennett choked out, his voice raw. “Tessa, please. You have to stop this. You have to tell your uncle to stand down.”
I looked at him calmly. “Why would I do that, Bennett?”
“Because it’s a misunderstanding!” he pleaded, taking a step sideways to try and keep eye contact with me. “Margot went crazy! I didn't know she was going to do that! I was shocked, Tessa! I was trying to protect you from a public scandal!”
“Protect me?” I let out a soft, bitter laugh. “You told me not to be dramatic while I was lying on a cold marble floor with coffee on my dress and a bruise on my ribs. You offered me a hand only because people were staring.”
“I was confused!” Bennett insisted, his hands trembling. “Tessa, think about our family! Think about our baby! If Finch Global collapses, what will we have left? What will our daughter inherit?”
“Our daughter will inherit the Sterling name,” Arthur interjected, his voice dripping with venom. “And she will never know a single cent of your dirty money.”
“Tessa, please,” Bennett begged, dropping to his knees—a pathetic attempt at performing remorse, just like his performance in the hallway. “I’ll fire Margot. I’ll kick her out of my life forever. I’ll tear up the divorce papers. We can fix this. We can go to counseling. Just tell the board tomorrow that it was all a private argument that got out of hand!”
I looked down at this man. For three years, I had walked on eggshells, worried about disappointing him, worried about failing to fit into his high-society world. I had let him shrink my life until I was nothing more than an accessory to his ambition.
Now, seeing him on his knees, begging not for my forgiveness or my health, but for his stock price and his reputation, I felt a profound sense of freedom.
“Bennett,” I said quietly.
He looked up, a ray of hope flashing in his eyes. “Yes, baby?”
“You froze my cards three days ago because you wanted me to beg,” I said. “You left me with nothing because you wanted to break me.”
May you like
I leaned forward, looking straight into his panicked eyes.
“Now, watch what happens when I break you.”
