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Chapter 7 - The Proposal

 "Till death do us apart," Damien's voice was calm as he stared deep into Harriet's eyes.

 

Harriet's heart soared as she repeated those words. "Till death do us apart."

 

With trembling hands, Harriet took Damien's hands and slipped the ring onto his finger. The surrounding guests were a blur of smiles and tears. Time seemed to stretch and fold. This was where Harriet wanted to stay, in the warmth of their vows.

 

But as Harriet relived that moment, a creeping awareness settled into her unconsciousness. She had been here before, felt these emotions, heard these words. Over and over, she had replayed this scene, trapped in an endless loop. She had struggled to break free, but was unable to.

 

As Damien was about to slip the ring onto Harriet's finger, the sky suddenly darkened. The brilliant sunlight was swallowed by an unnatural darkness. A cold wind swept through the chapel, and everyone present began to fade, dissolving into dark smoke. Harriet watched in horror as faces she knew vanished.

 

"Damien?" Harriet's voice was a whisper, filled with dread.

 

Damien let go of her hand, his eyes filled with nothing but cold, hard contempt. "You deserve to die alone," he said.

 

Harriet reached for him, but he turned and ran, his form disappearing into the darkening air. "Damien!" 

 

The ground beneath her began to tremble. The floor opened up, and she felt herself teetering on the edge. She cried for help, but there was no one. The darkness pulled at Harriet, and she felt herself slipping, falling into the void. 

 

The shock of it all was too much. Harriet gasped, her eyes snapping open. The morning sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She sighed as she sat up, feeling silk sheets cool against her skin on the plush king-sized bed. 

 

Even with the coolness of the sheets, Harriet felt a spike of ice run through her. The cold spread from her stomach into her lungs and heart, but it didn't numb the pain.

 

She would always feel like this anytime she had that dream. Her wedding day with Damien. And even though she had moved on, the terrifying dream didn't seem to go away. 

 

She had gotten used to it now. Used to this feeling. Used to reliving that horrible memory of her wedding day over and over again. It had been five years, but it still hit the same.

 

Harriet stretched her limbs before rolling onto the side of her bed to grab her phone on the nightstand. As she fumbled instinctively for it, she registered somewhere in her mind that it was almost 8.a.m. 

 

Her fingers wrapped around the phone as she read the text message. 

 

"School resumes in a week. Do you want me to bring Emma Rae back before then?" Harriet read out the text into the large bedroom.

 

She wanted to smile, but all that happened was that the corners of her mouth twitched once. Emma Rae was her four-year-old daughter, and she had spent all summer with Evangelica. 

 

Then Harriet drafted a reply.

 

"Sure, Eva. I'll ask Theo to come pick her up later today. Thanks." she finally sent the text before tossing her phone onto the bed.

 

Harriet smiled again. She had always considered Evangelica Dimas to be the sister she never had, even though Eva's son,Theo, was almost her age—thirty. She owed her life to both of them.

 

Theo had saved Harriet five years ago. He got her out of the van before it exploded, then took her home to his mother, Evangelica. They nursed Harriet back to health and Harriet finally regained consciousness after four months of being in a vegetative state.

 

Four months of her life had gone by without Harriet even knowing and by the time she finally regained consciousness, she had already been declared dead by the media, Damien had already gotten married to Melissa and even her own father didn't bother to hold a memorial service for her or at least question Damien about her death.

 

And with that came the blinding clarity that Harriet needed—the fact that the only person she had was her baby. Her life was ruined and Damien and Melissa were responsible for it.

 

Harriet continued to lie in bed with her eyes closed. She concentrated on her breathing for a few moments. She breathed deeply some more, until all the tension from the dream she had dissipated. She didn't want to start her day with negative energy. Today was an important day for her. Having waited five whole years, Harriet was finally going to get the key element of her revenge plan.

 

Five years ago, Harriet had vowed to make Damien and Melissa pay for what they did to her. Betrayal had a way of igniting a fire in one's soul, and Harriet's burned hotter than ever. With the hidden trust fund in her name, Harriet set out to build her own business. She poured every penny into creating DiCott Agency, an entertainment company. 

 

And with Theo by her side, they made it happen. Theo managed the public-facing aspects of the company while Harriet worked from the shadows. DiCott Agency flourished, becoming a leader in the entertainment world, and scouting the top artists in the industry, while Harriet remained a ghost, unseen and unknown. 

 

It was all part of Harriet's plan. The empire she had spent years building was solid, and now was the right time to reveal herself. But she wasn't ready to face the world. Not yet, because she still needed one key element on her side. If she was ever going to bring Damien down, she would need someone of equal power by her side. Someone like Keith Jordan.

 

Harriet opened her eyes and glanced at her phone. An incoming call from Theo.

 

"The plan has changed." Theo said immediately Harriet answered the call. "Keith Jordan can't meet us today. But we can't wait, Harriet! We can't. So right now, he's at Shores Hotel and suites. He's meeting with a potential client. He leaves in about twenty minutes. Let's see if you can meet him before he leave."

 

"Shores hotel and suites?" Harriet repeated before hopping off the bed. 

 

Without ending the call, Harriet tossed her phone and rushed into the shower. After rushing through a shower, Harriet dried her curly blonde hair before rubbing some hair gel through it and twisting it up. She skewered the topknot with a black chopstick. Then she threw on the first dress she happened to grab—bright lavender with mustard accents—and slipped on her nude heels.

 

 "Good enough," Harriet said, then rushed downstairs and jumped into her black Tesla.

 

Shores Hotel and Suites was a five-minute drive. Harriet managed to put her makeup piecemeal at the red lights. A little bit of concealer. Mascara. Finishing powder. Lipstick. Presentable enough.

 

The dash on Harriet's Tesla said she was on time when she finally arrived at her destination. She took three seconds to gather her thoughts before she parked her car and trotted into the hotel lobby, her huge purse slung over her shoulder. 

 

As her heels clanked against the floor of the lobby, Harriet's eyes swept through the room. Then she saw him. Keith Jordan. He was seated in the private area of the lobby, and even though Harriet had seen his pictures on the internet, she was sure he belonged in an Armani photoshoot. Or modeling Calvin Klein underwear. 

 

Those sharp, deep-set gray eyes, sculpted cheekbones and full, firm lips were being wasted. He wouldn't have to smile to shill products. He could just brood with disapproval—like he was doing right now —and women would throw money away to buy whatever he was selling.

 

He was tall, too, easily six-three or six-four with broad shoulders. The impeccable suit he was wearing couldn't hide the power of his body.

 

Harriet's breath seized for a moment before she propelled her leg forward towards him. Keith's face twisted when Harriet finally stopped in front of him.

 

"Mr Jordan, can I sit?" Harriet's voice came out confident, the opposite of what she felt two seconds ago. One thing she was good at was never letting what she was feeling show on her face.

 

"You can." Keith finally said, his gaze never leaving Harriet's.

 

Harriet carefully took a seat opposite to him and crossed her legs. She tried to read the expression on Keith's face, but he remained stone-cold. Why would he let her sit if he was going to be like that?

 

"I'll cut to the chase." Harriet said, her eyes darkening a little. "How about you marry me instead of Dahlia Stone? It's for business, anyway. If you're okay with it, I'd like to go somewhere quiet and explain"