Stephanie's POV
It's been a week since the marriage. A week since I saw Cane and frankly, I liked it. But then again it was lonely. The staff here refused to indulge me no matter how much I tried. It was like they were under order not to talk to me.
The only thing I did was eat, sleep and watch TV: more like Myron and Tiffany. There were all over the media.
They'd just announced their engagement and that Tiffany had reconnected with the Dario's who were her real family and would be named the heir. It sickened me.
I'd just finished breakfast and was thinking of what to do. The silence was getting under my skin. Cane has instructed I never leave till he says it's okay to but a little stroll wouldn't harm. I just have to sneak past the guards outside but how?
A disguise would be perfect and I know the perfect one. I went to the store and found it. A maid uniform. It was a bit in the short side but who cares. I used a nose mask too so just my eyes and part of my nose was visible.
I strotted towards the door and unlocked it. Once it opened, I went out and bumped into a wall. Why was a wall in...wait, it's not a wall. It was hard alright but it has nipples and...I slowly looked up and standing before me was Cane.
"Shit!" I cursed under my breath while turning around sharply, walking back into the house.
"I thought I said not to go out."
"I know but...it was too quiet. I was only going to take a stroll and...
"What are you wearing?" He asked, interrupting me.
I didn't say anything, I just looked up at him and gave him the sweetest smile I could muster hoping it'll save the situation. I didn't get an reaction from him. He just stood, hands in his pocket staring blankly at me.
"Well, I guess your prayer has been answered." He walked to the couch and sat down. For a moment I lost concentration. How can a man look so seductive just by sitting down and...
"Are you listening?"
"Huh? Yes...no?" My cheeks suddenly felt hot.
"I hope you're not an airhead. Don't make this harder than it should be. Listen up. There's a charity gala tonight and you're going...
"What? Why and why does it have to be me..." The look on his face shut me up instantly. "Sorry, no interruptions."
"This is the first step of the plan. Tonight, you're going to experience what real power feels like. Everyone who's anyone will be in attendance since it's being organized by 'Bishop'. They'll all come hoping for a connection with him but it's all a don't for you to establish your face. Use it wisely." He stood up and was leaving.
"You're not coming?" I blurted out before realizing.
He paused but didn't turn to face me. "Armstrong will be here in an hour to get you ready." Then he left.
By evening, Armstrong came with the outfit. He brought a big box and three women who did hair and make-up. They dressed me in a long, white dress. It fit like a dream.
Armstrong smiled. "You look good," he said. "Keep this." He handed me a small card in a black case. The card had a silver seal and Armstrong's name on it. "This will open doors for you," he said. "Trust me."
He drove me to the gala. He told me to walk like I belonged and to keep calm. "I'll be around," he said. "If you need me, I will come."
Okay, Stephanie. You can do this.
I walked toward the entrance, A man in a severe tuxedo stood guard, a digital tablet in his hand like a shield.
"Name?" he asked, not even looking up.
"Stephanie," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.
His finger swiped, his eyes scanned. A frown. "You're not on the list. You'll have to leave."
A wave of heat rushed up my neck. Did Came not tell them I was coming? I heard a muffled laugh from the queue behind me. This is it. This is where I fail. Then, my fingers brushed against cool, matte black cardstock in my clutch. Armstrong's voice echoed in my head: "This will open any door."
I pulled it out, holding it between two fingers.
The doorman's face went through a terrifying transformation. From boredom , it went to recognition then pure, unadulterated fear. "My most profound apologies, Madam!" he stammered, bowing so low I thought he might topple over. "Please, forgive my ignorance! Right this way!"
He practically ripped the velvet rope from its post.
Inside, the gala was a combination of everything Myron had ever told me I wasn't good enough for. Crystal chandeliers, the clink of champagne flutes, the low hum of money and influence. And then, as if my hatred had conjured them, I saw them.
Myron, with his arm wrapped around Tiffany was laughing with our parents. When Myron's eyes met mine, his smile froze and died. The shock on their faces was almost worth the entire miserable week.
It was Tiffany who broke the spell, gliding over with that poisonous, sweet smile. "Stephanie? My goodness, I almost didn't recognize you." Her eyes raked over my dress. "What a… brave choice. It's a shame the details give it away as a replica."
I felt a familiar urge to shrink, but then i remembered I wasn't who they thought I was anymore. "It's funny you're an expert on fakes, Tiffany. You must have studied hard to perfect your own."
Myron stepped in, his voice a low, condescending growl. "How did you get past the door? This event is for people at the top, not someone like you. How did you get an invitation."
"I didn't need one," I said, my voice calm. "The host personally invited me."
He barked a laugh that turned a few heads. "The host? Bishop? Don't be ridiculous. No one knows who he is. You're making a scene and embarrassing yourself."
"She's embarrassing the family name," my father added, his voice tight with a shame I no longer shared.
Tiffany patted Myron's arm. "Now, darling, be kind. She's just bitter. She can't accept that you chose me."
A genuine laugh escaped my lips. "Bitter? Why would I be bitter over a man I threw away when I'm married to someone far more powerful?" I held up my left hand, letting the chandelier light catch the deep, unmistakable gleam of my 24-karat gold band.
"That's a fake," Myron snarled, his composure finally splintering. "You're wearing fakes. Trying so bad to fit in but all that you are is a nuisance. Security! Throw this delusional woman out!"
Two guards moved toward me. As their hands neared my arms, I simply showed them the black card. They recoiled as if I'd brandished a weapon, bowing and stumbling over themselves with apologies.
"What is this?" Tiffany shrieked. "That's a fake! There are only two of those cards! One belongs to Bishop!"
"Then I suppose you should wonder who holds the other," I said, my voice dropping. I locked eyes with Myron.
"For peace to reign, just leave. You have no idea who I am and what I can do."
"And who exactly are you?"
"Bishop has agreed to work with me. Do you know how much power that gives me?"
"What if I told you I have the power to snap my fingers and end it all?"
"You're insane," he hissed, but I saw the first flicker of real fear in his eyes. "It's impossible."
I didn't blink. I pulled out my phone and called Armstrong. "Armstrong," I said, my voice cool. "Do me a favor. Nullify the contract with Myron. Right now."
I heard his soft chuckle through the receiver. "Consider it done, Madam."
For a heartbeat, there was only the buzz of the party. Then Myron's phone vibrated. He yanked it out, his face turning a sickly shade of gray as he read the screen. "No… no! The deal… it's gone! They've pulled the plug! Everything is gone!"
The panic that erupted between him and Tiffany was a beautiful, chaotic symphony. I turned to the waiting guards, their faces etched with new respect and fear.
"Please escort these people out. They're making a scene."
As they moved in, I held up a hand. "Wait." I stepped close to Myron and Tiffany, leaning in so my whisper was only for them, "Just so we're p
erfectly clear," I murmured, "this isn't the end. This is just the beginning. You can expect so much worse."