Chapter 2 of After His Mistress Had Me Beaten, I Disappeared

I spent two weeks making calls I never thought I'd make.

The first few people I contacted didn't know anything. Or they pretended not to. I kept my voice light. Asked casual questions. Where was Atticus speaking next? What events was he attending?

Finally, a girl from our old study group mentioned Katalina's birthday party. Penthouse in Manhattan. Black tie. Half the medical community would be there.

Atticus would be there.

I didn't tell Josie. She would've stopped me. Told me to let it go. Find another way. But there wasn't another way. My parents had given him forty thousand dollars. Money that should've been mine. Money I needed to leave New York and never come back.

I was going to get it.

The night of the party, I stood outside the building for ten minutes. The doorman kept glancing at me. My dress was simple. Black. The kind you bought off the rack at Macy's. Everyone walking past me wore designer labels I couldn't pronounce.

I didn't belong here.

I went in anyway.

The elevator opened into a penthouse that looked like a magazine spread. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Crystal chandeliers. Waiters in white jackets carrying trays of champagne. Women in gowns that cost more than my rent. Men in tailored suits talking about summer homes and European conferences.

I walked through the crowd. Kept my head up. Pretended I had every right to be here.

I found Atticus near the bar.

He wore a charcoal suit. No tie. His shirt was open at the collar. Katalina stood beside him in a red dress that fit like it had been sewn onto her body. She laughed at something he said. Her hand rested on his chest.

I walked up to him. "Atticus."

He turned. His expression didn't change. "Gracelyn. What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you."

Katalina's eyes flicked over me. Her smile stayed in place. "We're in the middle of something."

"It'll just take a minute." I looked at Atticus. Only at him. "Please."

He sighed. Handed his drink to Katalina. "Fine."

We moved to a quieter corner near the windows. The city stretched out below us. All those lights. All those people living lives that had nothing to do with mine.

"What do you want?" Atticus asked.

I took a breath. "The money my parents gave you. I need it back."

He stared at me. "You're serious."

"Yes."

"That money was a gift. For my research fellowship."

"It was supposed to be for me." My voice stayed steady. "I asked them for help starting a new career. They gave it to you instead. I'm asking you to give it back."

He laughed. Short. Sharp. "You want forty thousand dollars."

"Yes."

"Why? So you can do what? Run away? Quit medicine because it's too hard?"

"I need it to start over."

"Start over." He repeated the words like they tasted bad. "You mean give up. Like you always do."

My hands curled into fists at my sides. "I'm not giving up. I'm leaving. There's a difference."

"Is there?" He stepped closer. His voice dropped. "You followed me to med school. You clung to me for four years. And now that you can't handle it, you want money to walk away. That's exactly what a gold-digger does."

The word hit like a punch.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

Atticus reached into his jacket. Pulled out his wallet. Took out his credit card. Then he flung it at my feet.

It hit the marble floor with a sharp plastic sound.

"There it is," he said. His voice was loud now. Loud enough that people turned to look. "The gold-digger finally showing her true colors."

The room went silent.

Katalina stood by the bar. Champagne in hand. Her smile was small and satisfied.

I looked down at the card. It lay on the white marble between my feet.

Everyone was watching.

I bent down. Picked it up. My hands were shaking. I straightened.

Atticus's expression was cold. Triumphant.

I took out my phone. Opened my banking app. Entered his card information. Transferred exactly forty thousand dollars to my account. My thumb hovered over the confirmation button for half a second.

Then I pressed it.

The transaction went through.

I set the card on the nearest table. Used two fingers. Like it was something dirty.

Then I turned and walked toward the elevator.

No one said a word. The crowd parted. I kept my eyes straight ahead. My heels clicked on the marble. Each step felt like it took an hour.

The elevator doors opened. I stepped inside. Pressed the button for the lobby.

The doors slid shut.

I stared at my reflection in the polished metal. My face was pale. My hands were still shaking.

But I didn't cry.

I pulled out my phone. Looked at the transfer confirmation. Forty thousand dollars. In my account. Mine.

The elevator reached the lobby. I walked through the marble foyer. Past the doorman. Out onto the street.

The city was loud. Taxis honked. People shouted. Somewhere a siren wailed.