Page 63 of Her Submission


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How could Monica refute a truth that Isabella had convinced herself was fact?Once she decides something is the way it is, there’s no reasoning her out of it.Isabella lived in her own world. She constructed her own reality. And in the one Monica had entered, Isabella was the eternal matriarch to an ancient family who went out of their way to displease her. As if they were soungrateful.All Monica had done was catch the eye of Isabella’s son. All Henry had done was fall in love with a woman who was committed to him and would do anything to protect everything they built together.

But those things weren’t good enough for Monica. She was never the right “breeding.” Her history as Jackson Lyle’s long-term girlfriend and a known “acquaintance” of new money upstart Ethan Cole was only the start of Monica’s sins – she was also the madam of the most exclusive brothel in America.I represent everything she resents in life.A woman who had built her own life, her own wealth, with only her brain and body to help her.

“You thought you could takemydaughter and barter her to the Beaumonts. Tell me, what kind of modern woman does that?” Monica held her bag close to her chest as if it were a shield to erect between her and Isabella. “Was it because Eva turned against you, too? You couldn’t marry her off to the Beaumonts, the Monroes, so Abigail has to suffer for some perceived sin?”

The finger drumming stopped. Isabella slowly inched her head forward, revealing more of her wrinkles in the overhead light. If this was the last look Monica got of her up close? Then so be it. She’d commit it to memory.

“Abigail is the greatest chance this family has at reclaiming the glory it had when I arrived. Back then, you couldn’t goanywherewithout the Warren name opening doors and creating futures for everyone in the room. Yes, my husband made a few mistakeswith the family money, but we rebounded. Better than ever, from what I understand.”

“Because of Henry.” And Monica. Her knowing her way around money and making millions a year from the Château’s success had helped the Warrens pay off their debts and start renewing whatever “glory” Isabella thought they still had.Everyone’s future is fine. Abigail has a trust fund.Everything could go tits up on the morrow and Monica would make it work.

“Henry… oh, Henry. My sweet golden boy.”

Monica said nothing.

“He could have had any woman he desired among my friends’ daughters. Some very lovely women, too. And it’s all because of me!I’mthe one who watched his diet for him as a child so he would never get too fat.I’mthe one who enrolled him in multiple sports to keep him fit.I’mthe one who worked alongside the best nutritionist in the business to ensure the best of the Warren genes allowed him to grow tall and strong. A name and money will only take yousofar, Monica. If you’re ridiculously handsome, too, the world is your proverbial oyster. Even his perversions didn’t stop women like Victoria Nicholson from throwing themselves at him.”

She’s crazy, right?Victoria was a lesbian, just like her acquaintance Eva. From what Monica understood, Isabella had tried to get the heiress to marry into the Warren family and the two had even dated for a while. According to Henry, though, there was no long-term spark between them.Because she’s gay.This probably also wasn’t the time to bring up Victoria was the partner of Madison, one of Monica’s best employees and the day manager of Le Salon.

“There’s an illness overtaking our society. You might know something about it.” Isabella pointed a finger in Monica’s direction. “You’ve got all these queers running around now. It infected my daughter, it infected the Nicholson girl, and for allI know it could infect our dear Abigail, too. We have to strike while it’s still possible to foster a fortuitous marriage with the right family’s boy. It’s a time-honored tradition, Monica.” She leaned both arms against the table, her dry lips spitting more of her strange words. “Abigail’s future depends on it. Thisfamily’sfuture depends on it. We don’t know where this country will be twenty years from now. Who knows who will be in charge! But families like the Beaumonts have shelters and money stashed all over the globe. Their cash is so old that the Sun King used to wipe his behind with it. I’ll be dead before Abigail has the chance to make something of herself. Let her be the next matriarch of a great French family that can protect her should the world implode, Monica. Don’t you want what’s best for your girl?”

I don’t know where to begin…While Monica was willing to admit that the world was crazier than she liked, she could hardly believe anything her mother-in-law said.She sounds… deranged.Paranoid. Conspiracy theories rotting her brain. Isabella was so high on her self-worth and what she “offered” her family that there was no talking her out of what she convinced herself was true.

“You’re acting like we should work together to construct my daughter’s future.”

“Think about it.” Isabella sniffed. “It could be your one redeeming act at this point, Monica. Prepare your daughter for her future and ensure she marries the right family as quickly as possible. It doesn’t get better than the Beaumonts.” She wagged her finger again. “There’s still time to make amends with Lily and Jean-Pierre. Louis is old enough to kick up a fuss, and we can only control him so much, but… he’s young enough that we can convince both him and Abigail that this is best for their futures. Trust me, Lily is totally behind this because she’s forever vexed with who Jean-Pierre got involved with. You think I treat you poorly? Ha! Olivia Beaumont hasn’t slept a full night sinceshe moved into her mother-in-law’s house. Her only saving grace in Lily’s eyes is giving her two healthy grandsons. That’s wherewecome in.”

“That’s grooming, Isabella.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re talking aboutgroomingmy daughter to marry a boy she barely knows. At seven! Even if she doesn’t marry him until she graduates college, that’s at least fifteen more years of spinning tales and forcing proximity between them. I’m not sorry when I say I refuse to partake in ruining my daughter’s mind like that. Just like it was Henry’s destiny to choose who he married, it’s the same for our daughter. I will have no part in selling her to someone.”

“And yet…” Isabella was still infuriatingly cool as she said, “that’s what you do, isn’t it? Barter and trade women’s bodies with the men who want them. That’s what you do best.”

Red burned within Monica’s stomach. Her heart threatened to give out if she looked too deeply into Isabella’s eyes.I’m going to be sick.What was this sensation sucking her blood from her veins and tying them into unfinished knots? What plucked her soul from her body and laid it out for everyone to see and judge?

Anger.It had been stewing inside of her foryears,but Monica, always the queen of diplomacy, had suppressed the harshest parts of her that wished she could reach across the table and slap that smug, selfish bitch in the face.

But that was the thing. As satisfying as it would feel, and as much as she didn’t give a shit about angering their lawyers… that was what Isabella wanted. She wasgoadingMonica into violence. Or, at the very least, an emotional eruption.

She wanted to see Monica crack. It would be her greatest achievement as the full-time thorn in her daughter-in-law’s side.

Yet another reminder that this wasn’t about Monica. It was about Abigail’s future.

“God have mercy on you.” Monica stood up, shoving that latent anger deeper down into her stomach. The only thing consoling her was the idea that this might be one of the last times she had to look into this woman’s eyes and withhold a shudder. “Maybe one day Abigail will forgive you after she understands what’s happened, but I will not.”

She didn’t wait for Isabella to say something witty in return. Monica was focused on her lawyer, who curtly nodded in her direction as they left the hotel room.

“How did it go?” the lawyer asked as they entered the elevator. “I’m surprised you held yourself back from throttling her. Grateful, too, although I would understand the urge.”

“Trust me. I would have loved nothing more.” Ten years. That was how long Monica had been putting up with Isabella’s bigoted schemes.And I wasn’t even raised by her.She had seen the long-term effects of Isabella’s special brand of abuse on Eva, and their whole generation of Warrens would be damned if the same thing happened to Abigail. “But that was playing right into her hand. That woman… she would havelovedit if I hurt her.”

“So she could sue you, I assume.”

“Oh, that would have been a lovely benefit, but not the only reason.” Monica’s stomach lurched into her throat as the elevator careened toward the lobby. “The thing about Isabella is that she literally thinks she’s ‘Lady Warren.’ It’s the only thing she’s had to cling to for most of her life. So, here I am, attempting to steal it all away from her. A woman that she didn’t pick to inherit the mantle. A woman she deemsunworthy.”

The lawyer was silent but thoughtfully looked toward Monica.