"Liam? Hi, it's Ellie Hayes."
Liam Vance, Mark's executive assistant. I'd helped him get the job, a kid from a community program I volunteered with. I'd hoped he'd be an ally, someone with eyes and ears inside Mark's world.
"Oh, uh, hi, Mrs. Thompson. Ellie. Is everything okay?" He sounded flustered.
"Yes, fine. I just need to get an urgent document to Mark for the conference. Could you tell me which hotel he's at in Atlanta? He forgot to mention it." A small lie.
A pause. "Um, he's... he's really tied up right now. Lots of conference calls. He said not to be disturbed."
The comments above my phone, where Liam's voice was coming from, snickered.
`"Assistant is totally in on it. #TeamHeroine"`
`"He's probably guarding the door, LMAO."`
My voice was calm, dangerously so. "Liam, I know he's not in Atlanta. I just need the room number here in Charleston."
Another pause, longer this time. He knew I knew.
"I... I can't, Mrs. Thompson."
"Don't worry, Liam," I said, my tone hardening. "I think my 'viewers' can help with that."
I didn't need him. The comments were already obliging, flashing above his stammered apologies.
`"Room 312! The 'love nest'! Hope the 'first wife' doesn't walk in... or does she? DRAMA!"`
`"This is gonna be good. Popcorn ready!"`
Room 312. The Palmetto Rose Inn.
One of our premier suites, actually. The irony wasn't lost on me.
Mark often leveraged my family's ownership for perks, for "important client meetings."
Apparently, Brit was a very important client.
I grabbed my keys.
The comments were going wild as I drove.
`"She's going! This isn't in the script! Is the 'villainess' about to flip the plot?"`
`"The writers are SHOOK right now!"`
`"Go get 'em, tragic first wife! Rewrite your ending!"`
Villainess? Because I wouldn't just lie down and die on schedule?
Good. Let them call me whatever they wanted.
I pulled up to The Palmetto Rose, my heart a cold, hard knot in my chest.
I didn't bother with the front desk. I had a master keycard.
Perks of the family business.