Loves My Sister, Married To Me

The gilded doors of the Plaza Hotel swung open, and Charlie stepped into the opulent lobby. The sound of a harp playing classical music drifted through the air, mixing with the scent of fresh flowers and expensive perfume. She walked through the lobby and into the Palm Court, where afternoon tea was served every day. Ami Stevenson was already sitting at their usual table by the window, touching up her Tom Ford lipstick in a compact mirror. "Darling!" Ami said, looking up and smiling. "You're late. I was starting to think you'd stood me up." Charlie sat down across from her and casually placed the vitamin bottle full of progesterone pills on the table. "Sorry. Traffic was terrible." Ami frowned, studying her closely. "You look awful. Did you party too hard in the Hamptons this weekend? I told you not to let Claudius drag you to all those ridiculous yacht parties." Charlie gave her a bitter smile. "He's been... too nice lately. It's making me uncomfortable. Like he's waiting for something." The waiter arrived and set down a three-tiered silver tray loaded with caviar, finger sandwiches, and pastries. Charlie stared at the cold, glistening caviar, and a wave of nausea rolled over her. She quickly picked up her cup of hot tea and took a long sip, forcing it down. She set the cup down and looked at Ami, feigning casual curiosity. "Hey, hypothetically speaking... how do you completely destroy a man? Like, psychologically." Ami's eyes lit up with excitement. She leaned forward across the table, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh my god. Are you finally going to dump that controlling psychopath? I've been waiting for this day for months!" Charlie shrugged, playing it off. "I'm just asking. What's the worst thing you can do to someone like him?" "Break his pride," Ami said immediately. "Men like Claudius Buchanan have nothing but their ego. If you destroy that, you destroy them. Trust me. I've seen it happen." She paused, swirling her tea spoon in her cup. A thoughtful look crossed her face. "Actually... there's someone you should know about. Corina Powell." Charlie's fingers tightened around her teacup so hard she thought it might shatter. Her sister's name. Coming from her best friend's mouth. "Corina Powell?" she repeated, keeping her voice as neutral as possible. "Oh, you don't know?" Ami said, looking surprised. "It's the biggest scandal that was ever swept under the rug in New York society. Two years ago, at the Met Gala after-party, Claudius got down on one knee and proposed to Corina with this insane pink diamond. Like, the rarest one in the world." She leaned in even closer. "And do you know what she did? She took the ring, dropped it into a champagne tower, and told him to his face that she would never marry a nouveau riche bastard. In front of everyone. All the old money families. All the CEOs. Everyone." Charlie stared at her, completely shocked. "Bastard? But he's the heir to Buchanan Industries." "Legally, yes," Ami said, rolling her eyes. "But everyone knows his mother was some random mistress no one ever met. His father never married her. That's why he's so fucked up. That's why he's so obsessed with proving he belongs." She reached across the table and squeezed Charlie's hand. "Look, I know you think he loves you. But everyone in the circle says the same thing. He's only with you because you look like Corina. You're her replacement. He's getting his revenge by dating her little sister." The words cut through Charlie like a knife. Every last shred of hope she had ever had died right there. She had always suspected it. But hearing it said out loud, confirmed by someone else, was a different kind of pain. She lowered her eyes, hiding the burning hatred in them. A cold, terrible smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I see. Well, like I said, it was just a hypothetical question." She changed the subject quickly. "Actually, can you do me a favor? Keep an eye out for MBA programs in Europe for me. Top ones. INSEAD. IMD. I'm thinking of going back to school next year." Ami blinked, surprised. "Oh! That's a great idea! A Powell girl getting her MBA in Europe? Very chic. Of course I'll help you." They finished their tea, and Charlie made her excuses to leave early. They hugged goodbye outside the hotel, and Charlie watched as Ami got into her chauffeured car and drove away. She stood alone on Fifth Avenue, the cold wind whipping her hair around her face. She pulled out her phone and opened Instagram. She switched to her secret burner account, the one that didn't follow anyone and had no followers. She typed in the name she had memorized: Vivianne Mercer. The account was public. Charlie scrolled through the photos, and her stomach turned. Endless pictures of private jets, yachts, designer clothes. The perfect life of a billionaire's wife. And then she saw it. A selfie of Vivianne wearing a limited edition Van Cleef & Arpels ruby necklace. The caption read: *His love ❤️* Charlie's hand flew to her collarbone. Around her neck, hanging on a thin gold chain, was the exact same necklace. The one Claudius had given her for her birthday last month. A wave of nausea so powerful it made her dizzy crashed over her. She ripped the necklace off and stuffed it deep into the bottom of her Hermès bag, like it was something dirty, something contagious. She stood there, shaking with rage and disgust, as the world around her continued to spin.