Chapter 2
“Escort Miss Bennett away from the guests.”
Marcus's voice carried across the silent rooftop.
Chloe grabbed his sleeve.
“Please, Marcus. We're family!”
He looked down at her hand.
“Let go.”
She immediately released him.
“But you don't understand. I didn't know who she was!”
The words hung between us.
I felt my husband's arm tighten around my shoulders.
Marcus stared at her.
“Would it have been acceptable if she weren't my wife?”
Chloe blinked.
“No, I didn't mean—”
“Then stop using that as an excuse.”
One of the security officers moved closer.
Chloe looked around desperately.
Several guests were recording.
Others stared at her with open disgust.
Just minutes earlier, she'd been laughing at my humiliation.
Now she seemed terrified of her own.
“Turn those cameras off!” she shouted.
Nobody listened.
Marcus motioned toward the elevator.
“Take her to the private security office. I want a written incident report.”
Chloe's expression changed.
The tears disappeared.
Anger replaced them.
“You're really doing this to me?”
“Yes.”
“After everything my family has done for yours?”
Marcus's eyes narrowed.
“What exactly has your family done for mine?”
Chloe opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
For a moment, she looked toward the opposite end of the rooftop.
I followed her gaze.
Our foundation's executive director, Patricia Coleman, stood near the auction display.
Patricia was fifty-one.
Elegant.
Educated.
And someone I'd trusted for almost seven years.
She was supposed to be managing the foundation's operations.
Instead, she was staring at her phone with trembling hands.
When she realized I was watching, she immediately turned away.
My stomach tightened.
“Marcus,” I whispered.
He leaned closer.
“What?”
“Don't let Patricia leave.”
He glanced toward the crowd.
“Why?”
“Something isn't right.”
Before he could respond, Chloe began shouting again.
“This is humiliating!”
I looked at her.
“Now you understand.”
She glared at me.
“You think you're better than me because you married money?”
A few guests gasped.
I felt my face grow hot.
Not from embarrassment.
From anger.
“Chloe, you have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Oh, please. Everyone knows how women like you get rich.”
Marcus stepped forward.
“That is enough.”
But I touched his arm.
“No. Let her finish.”
Chloe hesitated.
I looked directly at her.
“What exactly do you believe I've done?”
She laughed bitterly.
“You married a billionaire. Congratulations.”
I studied her face.
“Do you know how much Marcus was worth when we married?”
She frowned.
“What?”
“Less than the amount in your checking account today.”
The surrounding guests fell silent.
Marcus gave a small, almost sad smile.
I continued.
“When we got married, he had forty-three thousand dollars in business debt. We lived in a rented apartment with a leaking kitchen ceiling.”
Chloe stared at me.
“I worked as a public school counselor. Marcus was trying to save his first company.”
I swallowed.
“We built our life together.”
Marcus took my hand.
“And she invested her entire retirement account to keep my business alive.”
My throat tightened.
He rarely discussed that time publicly.
But he remembered every detail.
“She worked weekends,” he continued. “She paid our rent when I couldn't. And when my first major investor walked away, she was the one who convinced me not to quit.”
Chloe's expression collapsed.
Marcus looked at her coldly.
“You're standing at a charity event funded by a foundation my wife helped create. And you think she's here because of my money?”
I could hear the soft clicking of cameras.
For once, I didn't care.
I was tired of being reduced to a wealthy man's wife.
I'd spent years building programs that mattered.
I'd sat with women who had escaped violent homes.
I'd helped teenagers apply for college when nobody in their families believed they could succeed.
And I'd done that work long before our financial success.
Chloe looked away.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
I shook my head.
“You're sorry because you got caught.”
She had no answer.
The officers escorted her toward the private elevator.
Then Marcus turned to Patricia.
“Patricia, stay here.”
She stopped walking.
Her expression was composed again.
“Yes, Mr. Bennett?”
“I want every security recording from tonight preserved.”
“Of course.”
“And I want a complete list of everyone who handled the scholarship seating arrangements.”
Something flickered across her face.
“May I ask why?”
I stepped forward.
“Because several scholarship recipients were reportedly denied access to the event.”
Patricia gave a nervous laugh.
“There must have been a misunderstanding.”
“Then the records should clarify it.”
Her smile tightened.
“Nia, perhaps we should discuss this privately.”
“We will.”
I watched her carefully.
“But first, I want to know where the scholarship recipients are.”
She hesitated.
“They're in the lower ballroom.”
I stared at her.
“The invitation said the rooftop.”
“The rooftop was reserved for major donors.”
I felt the anger rise again.
“Patricia, our scholarship recipients are the reason we're holding this event.”
“Of course, but—”
“No.”
My voice was quiet.
But firm.
“We don't raise money for children and then hide those children downstairs because they aren't wealthy.”
Marcus nodded.
“Bring them up.”
Patricia's face tightened.
“The evening's schedule—”
“Change it,” he said.
She glanced between us.
Then walked toward the elevators.
I watched her disappear.
Something about her reaction troubled me.
I had known Patricia for years.
She was meticulous.
She remembered every donor's birthday.
Every board member's anniversary.
Every detail that might help her maintain a relationship.
But when I asked about the children our foundation served, she seemed more concerned about the seating chart.
Marcus touched my shoulder.
“Nia, let's get you cleaned up.”
I looked down at my ruined dress.
The stain had spread.
The fabric clung uncomfortably to my waist.
“I'll be fine.”
He shook his head.
“You've been saying that since I got here.”
I gave him a tired smile.
“Because I am.”
He gently brushed a damp strand of hair away from my face.
“You don't have to be strong every second.”
Those words nearly made me cry.
I leaned against him.
For a moment, the noise of the gala faded.
I was simply standing beside the man who had loved me through every version of my life.
Before the money.
Before the foundation.
Before the world started calling him powerful.
He kissed my forehead.
“Come on. There's a private suite downstairs.”
We walked toward the elevator.
But just before the doors opened, a young security technician approached.
“Mrs. Bennett?”
I turned.
He looked nervous.
“My name is Daniel Price. I work with the venue's security team.”
“Yes?”
He glanced toward Marcus.
“I think you should see something.”
My heart quickened.
“What?”
He lowered his voice.
“Miss Chloe's behavior tonight wasn't spontaneous.”
I stared at him.
“What do you mean?”
He swallowed.
“We have a recording from the service corridor.”
Marcus stepped closer.
Daniel continued.
“About twenty minutes before the incident, someone told Chloe to make sure you were removed from the rooftop.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“Who?”
Daniel hesitated.
Then showed us a still image.
Patricia Coleman.
Standing face-to-face with Chloe.
Passing her a small envelope.
I stared at the photograph.
The woman I'd trusted for seven years had apparently helped arrange my humiliation.
But why?
Daniel looked even more frightened.
“There's something else, Mrs. Bennett.”
I gripped Marcus's hand.
“What?”
“The envelope contained a photograph of you.”
May you like
He paused.
“And a note identifying you as a threat to the foundation.”
