From A Humiliating Bet To The Boss He Can’t Have Chapter 14
Less than an hour after Sloane was thrown out of the club, she posted a long statement on Instagram.
Alongside a selfie with red-rimmed eyes, she claimed she had only been looking out for a friend, that everyone had taken part in the betting pool, and that now Grant was trying to pin all the blame on her just to win me back.
But not a single one of the people who used to orbit her spoke up in her defense.
Grant’s assistant had already sent the full records of The Prenup Pool to everyone in their social circle.
Who started the betting pool, who designed the hundred-thousand-dollar check, who kept insisting I only thought the price was too low—it was all there in black and white.
Even the line Sloane had once thrown out—
[If she really walks away without taking a penny, I’ll eat my club membership card.]
—had been screenshotted and passed around again and again.
Very quickly, her husband saw the records, too.
Especially this line: “I used my ex’s exit check as the down payment on my first apartment.”
He left only one sentence under her long post:
[My divorce lawyer will contact you in the morning.]
The comments spiraled completely out of control.
[So you climbed up using your ex’s money and then called someone else a gold digger?]
[When are you eating the membership card? Need someone to slice it up for you?]
Sloane frantically deleted comments and rushed into the group chats to demand answers:
[All of you placed bets, too, so why am I the only one you’re targeting now?]
But the message wouldn’t send.
That was when she realized that the club chat, the charity committee chat, the wives’ lunch chat, even the private cocktail chat, all now said:
[You have been removed from the group chat.]
And the comments she had just deleted had already climbed to the top of the trending page.
[Apparently if a woman refuses breakup money and even pays her own way out, that still doesn’t prove she wasn’t after cash. Good to know.]