The Jilted Heiress In Blood Red

Harlene walked through the crowd, her red dress a slash of color against the monochrome suits. As she moved, people physically recoiled, stepping back to let her pass.

A strange, electric thrill shot through her. So this was what it felt like to be the monster. They were afraid of her.

Before she could reach the other side, Dennis stepped into her path. And he wasn't alone. Jailyn was clinging to his arm, her chin tilted up in defiance.

"Apologize," Dennis demanded, pointing a finger at Harlene. "Apologize to Jailyn right now."

Harlene raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "Why would I apologize to a campaign manager?"

Jailyn stepped forward, her lower lip trembling in a perfect pout. "Because of your leak last month, I almost lost my job. It was humiliating."

Harlene let out a short, bitter laugh. "That leak came from Estella, and you know it."

"Shut up," Dennis snapped. "You did it because you're jealous of Jailyn's talent. You always have been."

The absurdity of it hit Harlene like a physical blow. She had never been jealous of this woman. She was just a pawn in Estella's game.

Dennis leaned in, his voice dropping to a threat. "If you don't apologize, the wedding is off."

Harlene didn't flinch. She didn't cry. She laughed. It was a loud, genuine laugh that made Dennis's eye twitch.

She reached out and straightened his crooked tie. The gesture was intimate, but the look in her eyes made his skin crawl.

She leaned close to his ear, her breath hot against his skin. "Cancel the wedding. You'll still just be a loser who rode a woman's coattails to the top."

Dennis's face drained of color. He shoved her away, his eyes burning with hatred.

Jailyn immediately gasped, stepping back and clutching her pearls, playing the victim for the nearby audience.

Harlene looked at the two of them, their little performance making her sick. She tipped her champagne glass. The liquid splashed all over Jailyn's expensive white heels.

Jailyn shrieked. "You're insane! You're an animal!"

Harlene bent down, bringing herself eye-level with Jailyn. "This is just the beginning, thief," she whispered, the word sharp as a knife. Her mind flashed with images of her own stolen design sketches for the Argent sculpture competition, sketches she'd later seen hailed as Jailyn's genius.

Jailyn's eyes widened. She had heard the word. She understood exactly what it meant. She took a step back, her face going pale.

Dennis, oblivious to the exchange, grabbed Harlene's arm again. "You don't get to ruin her career!"

Harlene yanked her arm free. She looked at the fresh bruises forming on her skin, then back at him. "Are you protecting her career, Dennis? Or your own poll numbers?"

The murmurs around them grew louder. The Beaumont family image was cracking.

A housekeeper sent by Genevieve tried to intervene, but one icy glare from Harlene sent the woman scurrying away.

Dennis realized the situation was out of control. He grabbed Jailyn's hand and pulled her away, fleeing the scene.

Harlene watched them go. Her eyes were empty, as if she were staring at two corpses.

She turned and walked out onto the balcony. The cold air hit her, but it did nothing to cool the boiling rage inside her.

She pulled out her phone and typed a message to an encrypted number. "Initiate Protocol Two."

She looked back through the glass doors. Estella was standing near the stage, her dress shimmering under the lights. The design of the embroidery caught Harlene's eye. Something was wrong.