“Trust me, y’all, when I tell you saying those words to you is an act of resistance. Lord knows she wants to ruin both of us. She’d love nothing more than to see us and our businesses snuffed out for our ever daring not to listen to her.
“She was hoping this smear campaign would do the trick. But last I checked, our businesses are our own, and my divorce has been final for over a year, which means I’m a single woman, free to love whomever I choose. And I choose Lincoln Bridges.”
Cornelia Livingston turns out to be a master manipulator just like her son. I’m so glad that this woman has the smarts to protect herself.
That family is a joke.
Love wins!
This woman is unbelievable!! I’m glad you’ve found love.
She’s the type to remind you that you don’t belong if you don’t bow down.
Lawyer up. Then let that man love you hard and fast, right in her face.
I’m over the Livingston hype. Vile, lying individuals.
What’s her deal???
“But that’s not all.”
Ebony’s smile is almost sinister, and I love it.
“There’s a good reason behind this campaign, though. She’s got ulterior motives, secrets she wants to keep buried…”
The comments fly by so fast they’re almost a blur.
“Which I’ll be posting about soon. So, I hope you’ll join me, because I’m bringing receipts.
“But for now, I’m going to leave you with two diabolical crumbs. Check the photo credits, and a Luxe Lady wasn’t the only woman who wrecked my home.”
Ebony lifts an eyebrow then winks.
“Pause, peace, power. Love, your divorcétante!”
Heat singes my skin as she tucks her phone away and twists in my arms and kisses me.
“Not going to lie. That felt really good.”
“Yeah?” I smile, brushing soft pecks over her lips.
She nods, deepening the kiss right out here in broad daylight for God and Ellswood to see. “Now, take me on alonglunch.”
Over the next few weeks, we move on autopilot, gathering the necessary research, establishing the house rules. Our first course of action is a purposely vague post, stating tostay tuned for mysideon herDivorcétante Chroniclespage, meant to keep the buzz alive and build more anticipation.
We keep our heads low, talking to no one outside of our families,confirmedfriends, and the crew. There are no calls, no texts, no emails—and no podcast, televised, phone, blog, vlog, or stitched online interviews.
Not yet.
By day, we work diligently, finalizing the restoration at Madison Manor and setting the stage for the Winston-Livingston wedding events (Hailey and Donovan have officially banned Cornelia from the premises). By night, we sneak kisses under the grand ballroom’s chandelier. Or we’re at Ebony’s condo or my house, making love, watching horror movies—she’s got to practice her scream-queen techniques—listening to music, cooking elaborate meals, and playing Spades.
We’re biding our time, waiting for Cornelia to make her move.
Then I run into an old buddy from the city council, who, via the grapevine, heard from a friend of a friend from the mayor’s office that Cornelia was seen down at the county clerk’s office. That’s when Ebony and I decide to do some digging, fact checking. And suddenly, we aren’t just waiting anymore.
We’re ready to watch her renege.
Chapter Twenty-One
