Betrayed By Him: Claimed By The Boss

The private elevator of the Upper East Side penthouse hummed quietly. Katia stood in the center of the mahogany-paneled box. Her shoulders ached with a dull, heavy throb from the fourteen-hour flight from London. She rolled her neck, feeling the tight muscles pull at the base of her skull. The brass doors slid open with a soft chime. She gripped the handle of her Rimowa suitcase and pushed it forward onto the familiar marble floor of the foyer. The apartment was completely silent. She kicked off her black heels, her bare feet hitting the cold stone. As she reached for the console table to drop her keys, her gaze snagged on the floor. A pair of red Christian Louboutin stilettos sat carelessly near the edge of the Persian rug. Katia's hand froze mid-air. The metal keys bit into her palm. She stared at the red soles. She knew those shoes. She had complimented them last Tuesday in the boardroom. They belonged to Sienna, Caleb's twenty-two-year-old executive assistant. Katia's thumb pressed hard into the knuckle of her index finger, a nervous habit she couldn't break. The skin turned white under the pressure. A sound drifted down the long hallway. It was a high-pitched, breathy giggle. A woman's voice. Then, a low, guttural groan followed. A man's groan. Caleb's groan. Katia's lungs stopped working. The air in the foyer suddenly felt too thick, too heavy to inhale. A cold sweat broke out across the back of her neck, chilling her skin. Her stomach cramped violently, a sharp, twisting physical pain that made her want to double over. The blood drained from her fingertips, leaving them completely numb. The leather straps of her Hermes Birkin bag slipped from her grip. The heavy bag hit the thick rug with a dull thud. The sound was entirely swallowed by another, louder moan echoing from the master bedroom. She didn't think. Her body moved on pure, mechanical autopilot. Her bare feet stepped silently against the cold hardwood floor of the hallway. Each step felt like dragging her legs through wet cement. The sounds grew louder. Wet skin slapping against skin. Heavy, rhythmic breathing. She stopped outside the heavy mahogany door of the master bedroom. It was cracked open. A sliver of bright afternoon sunlight spilled into the dark hallway, illuminating the dust motes in the air. She didn't hesitate. She didn't tremble. She raised her right hand and pushed the door wide open. The hinges didn't make a sound. The afternoon sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, blindingly bright against the king-sized bed. Caleb was on top of Sienna. Their bodies were tangled in the white Egyptian cotton sheets Katia had picked out three months ago. Sienna's eyes fluttered open. She saw Katia standing in the doorway. A piercing, terrified scream ripped from Sienna's throat. She scrambled backward against the mattress, frantically pulling the white duvet up to her chin to cover her bare breasts. Caleb jerked hard. He whipped his head around, his eyes wide with panic. His skull slammed violently against the solid oak headboard with a dull, heavy thud. Katia stood perfectly still in the doorway. She didn't scream. She didn't cry. Her face was a blank, unreadable mask. Her spine was completely straight, her posture rigid. Caleb scrambled off the bed. His face was flushed a dark, ugly red, his bare chest heaving as he gasped for air. He grabbed his dark trousers from the floor and shoved his legs into them, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Katia," he gasped. He ran a shaking hand through his messy brown hair-his telltale sign of panic and guilt. He took a heavy step toward her, reaching out his hands to grab her shoulders. "Katia, wait. Let me explain." As his fingers brushed the fabric of her blazer, Katia stepped back. The movement was sharp, filled with pure, visceral disgust. Caleb's hands froze in the empty air between them. His face flushed a deeper shade of red. The panic in his eyes morphed quickly into a defensive, ugly anger. "Don't look at me like that!" Caleb shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "You're never here! You're a machine, Katia! You care more about your Wall Street deals than you do about me! What did you expect me to do?" The muscles in Katia's jaw locked so tight her teeth ground together. She curled her hands into tight fists at her sides. Her manicured nails bit so hard into her palms that she felt the sharp sting of broken skin. She slowly uncurled her left hand. She looked down at her ring finger. The three-carat oval diamond caught the sunlight, flashing brilliantly against her pale skin. Her heart beat a slow, heavy rhythm against her ribs. She reached over with her right hand, pinched the platinum band, and pulled it off. It slid over her knuckle with ease. She looked at Caleb. She threw the ring. It flew through the air and struck him dead in the center of his bare chest. Caleb flinched. The heavy diamond bounced off his skin and hit the hardwood floor. It rolled twice, making a sharp, metallic clinking sound before coming to a stop near Sienna's discarded underwear. "The wedding is off," Katia said. Her voice was flat, devoid of any pitch or emotion. It sounded like it was coming from a dead woman. "I want you out. You have until Friday to buy out my half of this penthouse." She didn't blink. "If the money isn't in my account by 5:00 PM, my lawyers will freeze your startup's assets." Sienna peeked over the duvet, her face pale. "Katia, please, we didn't mean-" Katia snapped her gaze to the younger woman. Her eyes were dead, cold, and entirely devoid of mercy. Sienna choked on her words and snapped her mouth shut, shrinking back against the headboard in pure terror. Katia didn't look at Caleb again. She turned on her heel, her bare feet carrying her out of the bedroom. She walked down the hallway, her posture rigid, leaving the apartment and the last six years of her life behind.