43. Daphne
43
Don’t do it.
Don’t look.
I let out a sigh. I can get through this without giving in to temptation. I know I can.
Then my phone buzzes again.
For the eighth time.
I snatch it off my desk and chuck it into the top drawer, keeping it facedown the whole time. I refuse to see whatever the screen says, just in case it gives me an irresistible urge to open the lock screen and read whatever bullshit is in my inbox.
Bzzt.
Bzzt.
Bzzt.
The desk vibrates under my arms.
Son of a bitch…
I yank the drawer back open, grab my phone, and momentarily wonder if Pasha would mind me hurling this out the window so I can get a new one.
I see the inbox blink with the preview of yet another message. It’s all I need to see.
“Hey, Aubrey?” I lean into the intercom system we installed to connect our offices.
“Good morning, hon! What’s up?”
“I need to step out for a while. I should be back around lunchtime.”
“No problem! Everything okay?”
I hesitate to answer. I don’t like lying. But, at the same time, I have this feeling that everything will be okay.
Once I get this settled.
“Everything’s fine, thanks. Just realized I need to run a few errands.” On a second thought, and just to ease any suspicion, I add, “Need anything while I’m out?”
“Well, if you’re coming back around lunchtime…”
That genuinely makes me smile. “I’ll text you and Hazel for your orders. It’s on me.”
This must be what they mean by “full circle moment”: the profound realization of how far I’ve come since the last time I was here.
Last time, I wore whatever floral sundress monstrosity my so-called mother deemed “appropriate,” just so she could sit there and try to force me into a loveless marriage.
Today, I’m wearing the plum bodycon dress Sofiya bought for me as my “first ass-kicking gift,” along with heels that could stab anyone who gets in my way.
I’m married to the man I love, who loves me back just as fiercely and passionately.
And I won’t listen to a word of criticism.
In fact, I’m the one doing all the talking.
“Miss Covington!” The ma?tre d' does a double-take when I stride through the double glass doors and approach his gilded podium. “So good to see you again! Do you have a reservation?”
“I know—it’s been a while.” I offer him a warm smile. “I am married now, though. No longer a Covington.”
“Oh, how wonderful! My biggest congratulations! Is your reservation under…?”
“Chekhov.” I bite back the knowing smirk when I see his eyes widen a bit more and he takes a step back. “But no, I’m not actually here to stay. I just need to deliver something to my parents and then I’ll be on my way out.”
He visibly swallows and peeks down at his tablet. He clearly wants to deny me entrance, but my new name holds more power than either of my old ones ever did.
“Of course. They’re seated by the fountain. I can have someone escort you over?—”
“No, thank you. I see them.”
How could I miss seeing them? Stewart is frowning so deeply, there’s practically a storm cloud forming over his head. And Ophelia, dolled up as ever, is wearing one of her gaudy tea hats and a painfully bright, coral pink dress suit.
I stroll over to them, my head held high and every step more confident than the last.
You’ve got this.
You’re a queen.
You’re his queen.
“Daphne!”
Both of them jump in their seats. Stewart scrambles to his feet and pulls out the chair next to him. “You’re here! My goodness! Please, have a seat!”
“Stewart, Ophelia. How lovely to see you again.” I beam at them the same way any lady of high society does in this godforsaken hive of pretentious assholes. “No, thank you. I won’t be staying.”
Ophelia pouts. “But you’ve only just arrived! And we have so much to discuss?—”
“That’s actually why I’m here.”
Rip it off. Rip the bandage off and be done with it.
Stewart’s face reddens. “Daphne, sweetheart… you’re causing a scene.”
“Good. That will make things easier.”
Ophelia reaches for me, presumably to yank me down into the chair next to her, but I dodge out of the way and clear my throat.
Here it goes…
“Ladies, gentlemen.” I raise my voice loud enough to be heard over the soft din and wait for the gradual silence to settle throughout the dining room. “I’ll just be a quick moment. You all know me—well,” I laugh, “you know my parents, Stewart and Ophelia Hamish.”
A few smiling faces nod. Others just watch and wait for me to finish.
“My former parents, I should clarify. As of today, I am officially disowning them and cutting off all ties, familial and legal.”
“Daphne!”
“Sit down! This is ridiculous!”
“What’s ridiculous,” I continue over their protests, “is how desperate they are to make you believe they are good and decent people worthy of your esteem. They are not. They are, in fact, kidnappers.”
A few gasps. Ophelia’s mouth snaps shut.
Stewart sits back down, his eyes darting everywhere but at me.
“Many of you may have already heard about my recent wedding, as well as my husband and I welcoming our daughter into the world. Well, these two people thought it would be a great idea to stuff my newborn baby into a duffel bag and try to smuggle her out of the hospital to use as blackmail to end my marriage.”
More gasps. Horror on the faces of every person in here. My parents sink lower in their seats.
“I know it’s easy for anyone to make up anything just to get what they want. You’re an expert at that, aren’t you, Mom?” I grin at her. “Which is why I got some help in posting the police reports and their mugshots to social media for your review. Oh, and the now-public arrest report of the FBI agent they paid off to help them falsely accuse my husband and spring them out of jail whenever they wanted.”
The dining club was quiet before; it’s deathly silent now. All eyes are on the Hamishes.
“So to summarize…” I count out my parents’ crimes on my fingers. “They disowned my sister, who only did what she did so they wouldn’t sell her into a loveless marriage. They forced me to change my name so I’d ‘bring them out of ruin,’ then tried to force me to marry a man who not only cheated on me, but also tried to rape me. Repeatedly. They helped his mistress attack me in an alley, which landed me in the hospital. They’ve abused social connections to hunt me down, terrorize my family, and overall are just despicable people.”
I redirect my attention towards Stewart and Ophelia. “It’s been fun, you two. But it’s over.”
I could keep going, but I think I’ve made my point.
We’re done here.
Stewart, however, doesn’t want to let things end. He jumps up and grabs my arm. “Stay right the hell where you are, young lady! You cannot just come in here and?—”
I see Lev spring forward from his watchful post near the door. I shake my head so he knows I’ve got this.
“You’re broke.”
Stewart freezes. “What?”
I firmly pry my arm from his grasp. “You’re broke. You and your wife. Dead broke.”
“Impossible.” He scoffs and waves off the accusation. We both know it’s a social death for them if it’s true. Which it is. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh? Really? So when the bill comes for this meal—” I gesture at his elegant array of caviar and oysters in their shells already halfway eaten. “—you’re the one paying for it? And not one of your senator friends or old business partners you’ve been blackmailing to financially support you?”
Ophelia finally finds her voice and tugs at my dress as she hisses, “That is enough! I will not have you humiliating us any further!”
“You’re doing a perfectly good job of that on your own.” I smack her hand away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be. And you—both of you—will never set foot anywhere near me or my family ever again. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
“You little?—”
“Oh, shut the hell up, Ophelia!”
She spins around in shock at the new voice behind her, a woman around her age who appears to be more than irritated. “Stacey! Please, you cannot believe?—”
“I can’t believe you have the balls to show your face in here. Either one of you.” Stacey sniffs and rolls her eyes, which starts a series of more sniffing and turning away from the Hamishes all throughout the club.
One by one, each of their former “friends” turns their back on my parents.
My work here is complete.
I saunter away from their table, my head held high and the weight of years of their abuses and humiliations finally lifting off me.
Every step feels lighter. Every breath of air feels cleaner.
“Luc?” A thought just occurred to me right when I was ready to leave. I turn to the host. “Please put their meals from today on my account. But I think, for everyone’s sake, their membership here should be revoked. I will not be paying for any future visits of theirs, and they cannot afford to eat here.”
Luc nods and pulls up the screen of his tablet. “Absolutely, Mrs. Chekhov. I’ve already alerted the manager.”
“Thank you.”
Lev gives me a questioning look. I shrug and step through the door he opens for me, instantly smiling when the warm sun kisses my skin.
“You know what I think it is?” I say to him as we wait for the valet to bring the car around. “Those two are horrible, selfish people. I’m not. And I want them to live the rest of their lives knowing Melanie and I will always be better than them.”
He grins. “I’d say you made that quite clear, Mrs. Chekhov.”