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Chapter Twenty-Six

G oddamn sons of bitches. Hillary stomped into her new apartment.

She took off her Louboutin’s and flung them across the floor.

One heel dented the wall and broke off. She didn’t care.

She hated this apartment. She hated its small size.

She hated the kitchen with its laminate countertops and older appliances.

She hated that no decent restaurants were close by and really hated that the neighborhood was a little seedy.

She hated that she didn’t have a view of Central Park—actually had no view at all.

All she had was a view of the apartment building next door and her nasty neighbors.

She had no patio and no sliding glass doors leading to it.

Not that she would want to open them. Smell and hear the sewer that was New York City—no way.

She hated Keith. But most of all, she hated Claire.

If Claire hadn’t been in the picture, Keith would have loved her back.

It hurt to know that Keith didn’t love her—never did.

She was just an easy lay. How she thought that he loved her was still beyond her imagination.

But she had loved him with all her heart.

Why couldn’t she find love? Her other boyfriends just took from her, never gave her anything in return.

She thought Keith would be different. Especially when he got that condo for her, opened charge accounts in expensive stores, took her to dinners at restaurants she’d only read about.

Turned out, Keith wanted someone to be available for sex.

He just pretended there would be more. Why was she so gullible? So unlovable?

Her mother tried, but she worked too hard and was too devastated after her husband left that she never had time to spend with Hillary or love her.

Hillary never had girlfriends, even though she tried to develop friendships.

Although if she were being honest with herself, it probably had something to do with her having sex with a couple of their boyfriends.

Damn Keith Willis. Damn Claire Willis. Damn that lawyer. She expected to be called in for a reading of the will. That call never came. She should have known better.

When she initially got the notice from the new building owners that she had to vacate her condo so they could renovate, she laughed until she realized that Keith lied.

He hadn’t bought the condo for her, as he said.

It was in his name; the building was in his name.

In fact, everyone owned their condos in the building except for her.

She had given up everything for Keith, hoping, praying that he would divorce Claire and marry her. What an ass she had been. He said all the right things, gave her gifts from Tiffany, promised her the moon. Liar.

When Claire left him, she thought, this is it .

Keith would divorce the bitch and marry her.

But nooo. He’d told her in no uncertain terms he was determined to get Claire back.

He smirked as he told her he would continue paying for things and fucking her, but he wouldn’t marry her. Well, she hoped he was happy now.

The coup de grace had been the other day.

The red-sequined designer dress she tried on at her favorite chi-chi shop on Madison Avenue was perfect for her coming out.

However, when she brought it to the counter to purchase it, the salesclerk who had fawned over her in the past changed her tune after she punched in the account number.

Then she had just stared at the register and told Hillary, sorry, but that account was closed.

Looked at her like she was dirt. An insect to be squashed.

Like she was stealing. Oh yeah, the clerk said all the right things—open a new account, pay cash—but the fact was, she couldn’t afford the dress, period.

She sneered at the clerk, told her where she and the dress could go and stomped out.

Felt the salesclerk’s eyes watching her, probably laughing.

Felt her face turn red and hatred for Keith and Claire boil in her gut.

Especially for Claire. This was all Claire’s fault.

Hillary thought about those crocodile tears she had shed at Keith’s service—everyone thought she was grief-stricken.

The service she’d put together because his asshole wife wouldn’t.

Claire had never responded or even showed up for it, even though she was invited.

Wouldn’t the partners be surprised to learn just who facilitated Keith’s journey to hell?

She sat on the new cheap sofa she ordered because the one from the condo didn’t fit in the room and curled up into a ball. Life was just so unfair.

Earlier today, the new partner informed her she would be going back to the secretarial pool.

—her. As if she hadn’t scratched her way—okay, fucked her way up and out of that cesspool.

But who was counting? He tried to make it sound wonderful.

She would be working with all the lawyers, using more of her skills, yadda, yadda, yadda.

He hadn’t been looking for a quick lay. Hillary discreetly tried, well, practically threw herself at him, but he hadn’t taken the bait. The man had a fiancée—a smart, beautiful young fiancée who took one look at Hillary and had her number. The bitch, no doubt, told him to get rid of her .

The secretarial pool! It took her years to get out of there.

Some of the women she started with were still there, happy to see her fall from grace; rather, from the thirty-second floor, where the partners worked.

Happy to give back some of the grief she gave them.

Happy to throw it in her face, nicely, of course. But the smirks were still there.

Hillary started sobbing. She knew she wasn’t a cute crier, but now there was no one to care.

Damn Keith and his lying ways. Damn Claire for disappearing and forcing Keith’s hand.

Damn her for believing Keith when he said he loved her—wanted her.

She cried even harder for a few minutes before she hiccuped, sniffled, blew her nose and finally stopped crying.

A thought nagged at the back of her mind. Claire was back in Florida. Where?

Yes! She remembered that Claire had given her new phone number and address to the office. She had copied that information and tucked it into her purse before she left the partner’s office. Hillary smiled. Things were looking up—for her. Not so much for Claire.