Elodie's POV
Nicholas reached out and playfully scratched Valerie’s nose.
“All yours,” he said softly, like she was the only thing that mattered.
Then he turned to me, all business.
He ordered, “Elodie, you’re in charge of the wedding. Doesn’t matter what it costs. Just make it grand, luxurious, and tasteful. Just make sure Valerie’s happy.”
Valerie beamed like she’d just been crowned queen of the universe. Her smile was so smug I could practically see it dripping down her chin.
“I heard you were some kind of arranged bride for the Vanderbilts?” she said, cocking her head with fake innocence. “Seriously? In this day and age? People like you still exist? You’re basically a walking relic from the feudal era.”
Valerie gave me a slow once-over, her tone turning syrupy-sweet. “Unlike Nicholas, I’m not going to baby you or let you freeload.”
“But hey, since you did sponsor me back when I was a nobody, I’ll let you stick around.” She then waved a hand vaguely. “You can be the maid. Or maybe housekeeper. Something humble.”
Behind me, Jessica let out a sharp snort. “You’re not even officially a mistress yet. Let alone a wife. Who do you think you are, acting like you own the place?”
Valerie held up her hand like she’d just won Wimbledon, flashing the diamond ring like it meant something.
“Unlike you freeloaders, I’m Nicholas’s one true love,” she announced. “I manage his schedule, help with the business, and take care of him. I’m useful. That’s more than I can say for any of you.”
Valerie leaned in, eyes sharp as knives. “But hey, I’m not stingy. As long as you play by my rules, I’ll throw you a bone. After all, without this family’s money, you gold-diggers wouldn’t last a day.”
With one eyebrow raised, she then haughtily ordered, “Move my bags to my room. I’m off to a candlelit dinner.”
She hooked her arm around Nicholas’s and strutted out like she owned the place, leaving the rest of us staring at each other, mouths slightly open.
Finally, Cressida broke the silence. “What’s she so proud of anyway? That diamond ring’s smaller than mine.”
Rebecca, ever the calm voice of reason, handed me a thick folder.
It was the Vanderbilt Group’s latest financial report.
“She has no idea,” she said coolly. “We’ve been draining Nicholas dry for years. There’s barely anything left.”
Rebecca smiled wryly before adding, “And the company? It’s been bleeding money for years. Bankruptcy’s just around the corner. That big fancy wedding she’s dreaming of? Not happening.”
I shrugged. Honestly? Not my circus anymore.
I was officially divorced. Whatever Nicholas and his new ‘true love’ did from here on out wasn’t my business.
What was my business?
Figuring out how to enjoy my filthy-rich, freshly single life.
Step one: buy a private jet.
Step two: plan a world tour.
...
I was halfway through packing when Valerie stormed into my suite, grabbed my suitcase, and flung it straight over the balcony.
A splash echoed from the pool below.
“I told you this room is mine!” she snapped. “Move your stuff to the maid’s quarters!”
Then, as if she were already Nicholas's wife, she directed, “Oh, and while you’re at it, clean this place up and make me a pour-over. And don’t forget to apologize.”
I looked her up and down, ice-cold. “There were two Himalayan salt blocks and a Patek Philippe in that suitcase. How exactly do you plan to compensate me?”
Valerie blanched. A flicker of panic crossed her face, but she covered it fast with another round of theatrics.
“I’m going to be the new Mrs. Vanderbilt,” she said stiffly. “Everything here belongs to me. You’re the ex-wife! What right do you have to ask for anything?”
Right then, Lisa entered through the doorway, her lawyer’s license shining as she smirked.
“Correction,” she said. “You’re not Mrs. Vanderbilt yet.”
Crossing her arms, Lisa retorted, "So what’s it gonna be? You paying up, or do we go to court and let the press have a field day before your big white wedding?”
Valerie’s face cycled through a stunning rainbow—pale, flushed, red, then a weird blotchy in-between.
She ripped the necklace off her neck and tossed it in front of me. “Nicholas bought this at a Paris auction. Designed by a world-renowned artist. Enough?”
I glanced at it, then shifted toward Hannah.
Hannah rolled her eyes, clearly tired of wearing hand-me-downs.
After all, Valerie was the only one treated like royalty.
She scowled, then fished a bank card out of her clutch.
“There’s $2 million on this,” Valerie haughtily said. “That and the necklace should cover it, right?”
I didn’t say a word. Just shook my head slowly.
Her hands curled into fists. Then, with a visible grimace, she slid the ring off her finger.
Finally. Now we were talking.
