Chapter 4 — The Socialite Who Chose the Wrong Woman
Chapter 4 — The Socialite Who Chose the Wrong Woman
Victoria Harrington had never been afraid of being embarrassed.
She had been photographed falling out of nightclubs.
She had once called a famous actress by the wrong name at a charity gala.
A video of her arguing with a fashion designer had gone viral for three days.
She had survived all of it.
Money had a way of making embarrassment temporary.
Apologies could be purchased.
Publicists could rewrite stories.
Influential friends could bury scandals.
Victoria had always believed that if something went wrong, her family name would protect her.
But there was no publicist powerful enough to erase what had happened yesterday.
Because this time, the woman she had humiliated was not ordinary.
She was Charlotte Vale.
The rightful heir to Solmere Empire.
And every major news channel was showing the same footage.
Victoria dragging Charlotte across the marble floor.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Victoria sat frozen on her white sofa, staring at the television.
The footage had been slowed down.
Enhanced.
Replayed from different angles.
Her hand gripping Charlotte's wrist.
Charlotte falling.
Charlotte's blood on the marble.
Victoria's face filled with anger.
Then the headline appeared beneath it.
SOCIALITE VICTORIA HARRINGTON HUMILIATES SOLMERE HEIR BEFORE LEARNING HER TRUE IDENTITY.
Victoria grabbed the remote.
"Turn it off."
Her assistant hesitated.
"Miss Harrington—"
"I said turn it off!"
The screen went black.
Victoria threw the remote onto the sofa.
Her breathing was uneven.
She looked at her phone.
Hundreds of notifications.
Messages from friends.
Former friends.
Journalists.
Business associates.
People she hadn't spoken to in years suddenly asking if she was okay.
Some were pretending to care.
Others were laughing.
One message simply said:
Girl, what were you thinking?
Victoria deleted it.
Another arrived.
You dragged the owner of the hotel across the floor?
Deleted.
Another.
I can't believe you didn't know who she was.
Deleted.
Then one message appeared from someone she couldn't ignore.
Her father.
Come home. Now.
Victoria stared at it.
She didn't want to go.
She already knew he would be furious.
But when William Harrington called again, she answered.
"Yes?"
"Where are you?"
"Home."
"Stay there."
Victoria frowned.
"Why?"
"Because reporters are outside."
She looked toward the windows.
She could see camera flashes.
"How did they find me?"
William was silent.
Then he said:
"Charlotte."
Victoria's stomach tightened.
"What about her?"
"She wants everyone to know what you did."
Victoria stood.
"She can't destroy me over one incident."
Her father's voice became unusually serious.
"You still don't understand."
"What?"
"She isn't trying to destroy you."
Victoria waited.
"She's trying to destroy us."
The call ended.
Victoria stared at the phone.
For the first time, she wondered what her father was hiding.
Across the city, Charlotte sat in her new office.
It had once belonged to Richard.
The office was enormous.
Dark wood.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
A private bar.
A painting worth millions.
Charlotte hated it.
Not because it was luxurious.
Because everything about it felt like someone trying too hard to prove they were important.
She removed the painting from the wall.
Behind it was a safe.
Charlotte stared at it.
She called Ethan.
"Richard has a safe behind his office painting."
Ethan answered immediately.
"Can you open it?"
"No."
"Then don't."
Charlotte smiled.
"I wasn't planning to."
She stepped away.
"Bring the forensic team."
"Already on the way."
Charlotte looked toward the window.
The city was changing.
News helicopters circled Solmere headquarters.
Reporters were camped outside.
Investors were calling.
Employees were whispering.
And somewhere in that chaos, people were beginning to choose sides.
Her phone rang.
James Avery.
"Ms. Vale."
"James."
"The board has scheduled an emergency session."
"When?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"Why?"
"They want to discuss your authority."
Charlotte laughed softly.
"Of course they do."
"There are concerns."
"Whose concerns?"
"Richard's supporters."
"How many?"
"Seven."
Charlotte thought for a moment.
"Seven?"
"Seven confirmed."
"And the others?"
"Undecided."
Charlotte stood.
"Then we have work to do."
James hesitated.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"Victoria Harrington."
Charlotte's expression didn't change.
"What about her?"
"Her family is asking for a private meeting."
Charlotte smiled.
"Decline."
"I thought you might say that."
"They're not ready to apologize."
James was quiet.
"How do you know?"
"Because people who are sorry ask what they can do to fix what they broke."
Charlotte looked toward the television.
The footage of Victoria was still playing on a news channel.
"They're asking what they can do to save themselves."
At noon, Victoria finally left her apartment.
She wore sunglasses, a cream coat, and a scarf wrapped around her hair.
Her driver had warned her not to go outside.
She ignored him.
The moment she stepped onto the sidewalk, reporters surrounded her.
"Victoria!"
"Did you know Charlotte Vale was alive?"
"Do you regret attacking her?"
"Did your father know?"
"Was your family involved in the disappearance of Charlotte Vale?"
Victoria froze.
The last question was different.
Her face changed.
"Where did you hear that?"
A reporter raised his microphone.
"Sources inside Solmere say the Harrington family had financial dealings with Richard Vale."
Victoria stared at him.
Her father had told her nothing.
Nothing.
She pushed through the crowd.
"Please move."
"Victoria!"
"Did you assault Charlotte because your family wanted her gone?"
She stopped.
Her heart was pounding.
Then she turned.
"I didn't know who she was."
The reporters became silent.
Victoria realized what she had admitted.
A journalist immediately asked:
"So you admit you assaulted her?"
Victoria's mouth opened.
No answer came.
She turned and walked away.
Behind her, cameras flashed.
That afternoon, Victoria went to Solmere.
She didn't tell her father.
She didn't tell anyone.
She simply walked into the lobby.
The same lobby.
The same marble floor.
The same chandelier.
The same white orchids.
But everything felt different now.
People looked at her.
Not with admiration.
With curiosity.
Judgment.
Fear.
She saw the place where Charlotte had fallen.
There was no blood anymore.
But Victoria could still see it.
A hotel employee approached.
"Ms. Harrington."
Victoria turned.
"Yes?"
"Ms. Vale is upstairs."
Victoria swallowed.
"Can I see her?"
The employee hesitated.
"I'll ask."
Victoria waited.
A minute later, the employee returned.
"She'll see you."
Victoria followed him.
The elevator seemed to take forever.
When the doors opened, she walked into the executive floor.
Charlotte was standing beside the window.
She didn't turn around.
"Close the door."
Victoria did.
Silence.
Then Charlotte spoke.
"You came."
"I need to talk to you."
"About yesterday?"
Victoria hesitated.
"Yes."
Charlotte turned.
"Then talk."
Victoria looked at her.
Without the blood.
Without the crowd.
Without the marble floor.
Charlotte looked different.
Not weaker.
Stronger.
Victoria suddenly realized something.
Yesterday, Charlotte had been deliberately allowing herself to be humiliated.
Why?
Victoria frowned.
"You knew."
Charlotte raised an eyebrow.
"Knew what?"
"Who you were."
"Of course."
"And you let me do that."
Charlotte's eyes hardened.
"You gave me information."
"What?"
"You showed me exactly how much power your family believes it has."
Victoria stared.
"You used me."
Charlotte smiled.
"No."
She walked closer.
"You used yourself."
Victoria's jaw tightened.
"I didn't know."
"That's not an excuse."
"I was angry."
"That's not an excuse either."
Victoria looked away.
"I thought you were nobody."
Charlotte's expression softened for half a second.
"And now?"
Victoria looked at her.
"Now I know I was wrong."
Charlotte said nothing.
Victoria took a breath.
"I'm sorry."
The words sounded strange coming from her.
Charlotte watched her carefully.
"Do you mean it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Victoria hesitated.
"Because what I did was cruel."
"That's one reason."
Victoria looked confused.
"What else do you want?"
"The truth."
"What truth?"
Charlotte stepped closer.
"Why were you so determined to get me out of the hotel?"
Victoria froze.
"I told you. I thought you were—"
"No."
Charlotte interrupted.
"You were too angry."
Victoria looked away.
Charlotte continued.
"You didn't simply ask me to leave."
"You humiliated me."
"You dragged me."
"You wanted an audience."
Victoria remained silent.
"Why?"
Victoria's fingers tightened around her handbag.
"I don't know."
Charlotte studied her.
"You're lying."
Victoria looked at her.
"Fine."
She took a breath.
"My father told me not to let anyone cause trouble at Solmere."
Charlotte's eyes narrowed.
"Anyone?"
"Yes."
"Did he mention me?"
"No."
"Did he tell you to watch the hotel?"
Victoria hesitated.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Charlotte stepped backward.
Interesting.
Victoria wasn't the mastermind.
She was a piece.
A useful piece.
"Your father has been meeting Richard Vale."
Victoria looked up.
"What?"
Charlotte walked toward her desk.
She opened a file.
Inside were photographs.
William Harrington entering Richard's private office.
William meeting Marcus.
William speaking with Arthur Bennett.
Victoria stared at the photographs.
"My father said they only worked together on business."
Charlotte looked at her.
"They do."
Victoria frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"They've been working together for years."
Victoria's face paled.
"For what?"
Charlotte closed the file.
"That's what I'm trying to find out."
Victoria looked at her.
"Why are you showing me this?"
"I'm not."
Charlotte pushed the file toward her.
"You're looking at it yourself."
Victoria didn't touch it.
"What do you want from me?"
"Nothing."
"Then why?"
Charlotte looked directly into her eyes.
"Because eventually you're going to have to decide whether you're your father's daughter..."
She paused.
"...or your own person."
Victoria stared at her.
For the first time in her life, she had no answer.
Charlotte walked toward the door.
The conversation was over.
Victoria picked up the file.
"Charlotte."
Charlotte stopped.
"I really am sorry."
Charlotte didn't turn around.
"I know."
Victoria looked relieved.
Then Charlotte added:
"But forgiveness isn't the same as forgetting."
Victoria's relief disappeared.
Charlotte opened the door.
"And I never forget."
That evening, William Harrington waited in his study.
Victoria entered.
He looked up.
"Where were you?"
"Solmere."
William stood.
"I told you to stay away."
"I needed answers."
"Victoria—"
"Why were you meeting Richard?"
Silence.
William's expression hardened.
"Who told you that?"
"Charlotte."
William closed his eyes.
"What did she show you?"
"Photographs."
"She is manipulating you."
Victoria stared at him.
"Is she?"
"Yes."
"Then tell me the truth."
William walked toward the bar.
He poured himself a drink.
"You don't understand business."
Victoria laughed bitterly.
"That's what you always say."
"Because it's true."
"Then explain why you were meeting Richard secretly."
William didn't answer.
Victoria stepped closer.
"Did you know Charlotte was alive?"
His hand stopped.
That was enough.
Victoria's face changed.
"You knew."
William slowly turned.
"I suspected."
"You knew."
"Victoria—"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you were not involved."
Victoria laughed.
"Not involved?"
She pointed toward the television.
Her own face appeared on the screen.
Dragging Charlotte.
"Look at me."
William looked away.
"I made a mistake."
"No."
Victoria shook her head.
"You made me part of something I didn't understand."
William's voice became colder.
"Enough."
Victoria stared at him.
"Did our family help make Charlotte disappear?"
William said nothing.
Victoria's breathing became shallow.
"Father."
Still nothing.
"Answer me."
Finally, William whispered:
"We were supposed to protect an agreement."
"What agreement?"
"That's all you need to know."
Victoria stepped backward.
"What happened to Charlotte's mother?"
William looked at her.
For a moment, Victoria thought he would answer.
Instead, he said:
"Don't ask questions you don't want answered."
Victoria stared at him.
Then she walked away.
Behind her, William closed his eyes.
He reached into his desk.
Pulled out a photograph.
Evelyn Vale.
Richard.
Marcus.
And himself.
Standing together fifteen years earlier.
On the back was a date.
And one sentence:
THE FOUR OF US AGREED.
William stared at the photograph.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
"Yes?"
A man's voice came through.
"She knows."
William's face became pale.
"How much?"
"Enough."
"What do we do?"
The voice was cold.
"Control Victoria."
William frowned.
"And Charlotte?"
A pause.
Then:
"Leave Charlotte to us."
The call ended.
At 11:43 p.m., Charlotte sat alone in her office.
She had spent the entire evening reviewing documents.
Richard's finances.
Marcus's communications.
William's transactions.
She was exhausted.
But something bothered her.
A missing piece.
She opened the old photograph from her mother's files.
Four people.
Evelyn.
Richard.
Marcus.
William.
Charlotte stared at them.
Why were they together?
What had happened fifteen years ago?
Her phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
She answered.
No one spoke.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then a distorted voice.
"You should stop digging."
Charlotte sat up.
"Who is this?"
"You have no idea what you're looking for."
"Then tell me."
A quiet laugh.
"Your mother asked the same question."
Charlotte froze.
"What did you say?"
The line went dead.
Charlotte immediately called Ethan.
"Trace this number."
"Already doing it."
She waited.
Seconds passed.
Then Ethan answered.
"Charlotte."
"What?"
"The number doesn't exist."
Her face hardened.
"What do you mean?"
"It was routed through eleven different servers."
"Can you trace the source?"
"No."
Charlotte stood.
"What did they say?"
Ethan hesitated.
"Nothing good."
Charlotte walked toward the window.
She looked down at the lobby.
The same marble floor.
The same place where Victoria had humiliated her.
Tomorrow, everyone would see Charlotte as the heir.
But Charlotte knew something now.
The battle wasn't going to be about money.
It was about whatever her mother had discovered before she died.
And the deeper Charlotte dug—
the more dangerous the truth became.
She looked at her mother's photograph.
"Who were you fighting, Mom?"
Her phone buzzed again.
A message appeared.
YOU CHOSE THE WRONG ENEMY.
Charlotte stared at it.
Then another message arrived.
VICTORIA IS NOT THE ONE YOU SHOULD FEAR.
Charlotte's eyes narrowed.
She looked toward the door.
For the first time, she wondered whether Victoria Harrington had been cruel because she was powerful...
or because someone had told her to be.
And if that was true—
then Charlotte had just discovered something much more dangerous.
Victoria wasn't the enemy.
She was a warning.
And somewhere in the city, the real enemy was watching both women.
Waiting.
Because the socialite had chosen the wrong woman to humiliate.
But Charlotte had chosen the wrong people to trust.
May you like
And tomorrow, someone was going to pay for it.
To be continued...
