The Price Of His Mistake Chapter 03
Andrew shoved the car door open and came after me. He grabbed my arm.
“Catherine, don’t get the wrong idea! I told you I was going to buy you a Corvette. I came here today to test drive it. Just wanted to get a feel for it first!”
Before I could speak, Emily appeared at his side. Her smile was pure innocence.
“Catherine, don’t be mad at Andrew. I’m the one who said I was interested in the Aston Martin.”
“He just figured, since I contributed to such a big deal, this car could be my bonus. You don’t mind him teaching me personally, do you?”
I looked at them both. A cold laugh escaped me.
“This deal. What exactly did you contribute? What did you do to earn any of it?”
I didn’t soften the blow. Not even a little.
Emily’s face went white. She turned to Andrew with a look of wounded vulnerability.
I wasn’t interested in their performance. I shook off Andrew’s hand and kept walking.
Andrew lunged forward, ready to follow. From behind him, Emily’s voice cut through, laced with pain.
“Andrew, I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts…”
Andrew’s steps stopped dead.
Back home. The brownstone on the Upper East Side was dark.
I showered and lay in bed. I opened Instagram, scrolling mindlessly.
Emily’s latest post was right at the top.
The caption read: *Thanks to the boss for the racing reward. Hands-on teaching. Even the wind tasted sweet.*
Below it, a photo. The two of them in racing gear, sitting in the car together. Tagged: #Blessed #BossLife.
I muted her account. Then I opened my phone and sent Andrew the divorce papers I’d already drafted.
Half an hour passed. No response.
It seemed my messages had completely lost their value to him. Not even worth replying to.
Seven years of marriage. Buried under his silence. His disregard. Any need for communication was dead.
I set the phone down. Turned off the light. Went to sleep.
Early the next morning, my phone rang. Sharp. Insistent.
I answered. My assistant’s voice was tight with urgency. “Catherine, you need to get to the office. Now. Something’s gone wrong.”
I hung up. I threw the covers off.
My eyes skimmed the spot beside me. The sheets were smooth. Cold. Undisturbed.
Andrew hadn’t come home at all.
Even during the flat stretches of our marriage, when different deals kept us working late, we’d always come home quietly, careful not to wake each other.
But we always knew. The other person had come home.
Now, he didn’t even bother.
I didn’t let myself dwell on it. I dressed and headed straight to the office.
I arrived to find out that an old client of mine, a teachers’ retirement fund out of Connecticut, had come to discuss a follow-up deal.
Emily had taken it upon herself to handle the meeting. She’d botched it. Badly.
The CIO was furious. He was demanding we fix this. Now.
The news made my temples pound.
I knew this project inside and out. I jumped in immediately, pulling together a team and wrestling with the client over a Zoom call.
It wasn’t until I’d finally gotten the man to back down, until the first crisis was contained, that I had a moment to breathe.
I walked out to the open-plan office. I found Emily at her desk. My voice was ice.
“Who gave you permission to poach my client?”