Chapter 7 - The Final Packing Slip
Up on the third floor of the mansion, the heavy double doors of the master suite were locked from the inside.
Inside the sprawling dressing room, the custom-made Vera Wang wedding gown lay discarded across a velvet chaise lounge like a discarded ghost. Its delicate lace and ivory silk were already gathering dust in the dim light.
Brooke Harrington stood before the full-length gilded mirror, frantically tearing her diamond earrings from her lobes and tossing them into an open Louis Vuitton trunk. Her hands shook so violently she dropped a diamond tennis bracelet onto the hardwood floor, where it skittered into the dark shadows beneath the wardrobe.
She didn't bother picking it up.
"Open this door right now!" Brooke shrieked, slamming her fist against the heavy wood of the suite entrance.
Outside in the hallway, two private security guards stood immovable as statues, ignoring her pounding completely.
"You can't do this to me!" Brooke screamed, her voice cracking into a ragged, hysterical sob. Her mascara had run down her cheeks in dark, ugly streaks, ruining hours of professional styling. "Do you know who my father is?! Do you know how many politicians owe my family favors?! When I get out of here, I will make sure every single one of you never works another day in this city!"
The lock clicked.
The heavy door slowly swung open.
Brooke spun around, her face lighting up with a desperate, pathetic flash of hope, expecting to see Dominic standing there ready to relent.
It wasn't Dominic.
It was Emma.
Emma stood in the doorway holding a clipboard, her expression as calm and professional as if she were checking off a routine grocery inventory. Behind her stood two estate housekeepers holding three heavy plastic moving crates.
"Your transportation is waiting at the south service entrance, Ms. Harrington," Emma said evenly, her voice entirely devoid of emotion.
Brooke stared at her, her chest heaving beneath her silk blouse. She crossed the room, stepping right up to Emma, her eyes flashing with pure venom. "You. You little maid. You've been whispering in Dominic’s ear this entire time, haven't you? You think you've won something here? You think because I’m leaving, you get to stay in this house and play lady of the manor?"
Emma didn't flinch. She didn't step back. She simply met Brooke’s wild, manic gaze with an unshakable, quiet strength.
"I’ve worked in this house for three years, Ms. Harrington," Emma replied softly. "I managed the staff, I protected this family, and I watched people like you try to tear it apart for a last name and a bank account. Mr. Mercer didn't need anyone to whisper in his ear. You exposed yourself the moment you thought nobody was watching."
Brooke raised her hand, her fingers curling into a claw, aiming a vicious slap straight across Emma’s face.
Before her hand could complete the arc, a large, heavy hand shot out from the hallway, catching Brooke firmly by the wrist mid-air.
Brooke gasped, turning her head.
Dominic stood in the doorway. His grip on her wrist wasn't brutal, but it was absolute, ironclad, and inescapable. He slowly pushed her hand down, his dark eyes boring into hers with a terrifying finality.
"Never raise your hand in this house again," Dominic warned, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoed through the room like thunder.
Brooke’s eyes filled with hot, furious tears. She wrenched her wrist away from his grip, rubbing the red mark left on her skin. "You're a monster, Dominic. You never loved me. You never loved anyone! You just wanted a trophy wife to decorate your little empire until you got bored!"
"You wanted the empire, Brooke," Dominic replied flatly, turning his gaze toward the open luggage trunk. "You just forgot that empires are built on loyalty, not theft." He nodded to the housekeepers. "Pack the rest of her belongings into the crates. Escort her off the property, and make sure her vehicle doesn't stop until it hits the state line."
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Without waiting for another word, Dominic turned and walked down the hallway, leaving Brooke standing alone among her expensive dresses, her grand wedding dream shattered into a million pieces on the cold marble floor.
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