Chapter 5 - Allison’s Desperation
The fall from grace is swift, but for Allison Reed, it was a freefall directly into hell.
In the span of forty-eight hours, every credit card associated with Catherine’s business accounts was declined. The luxury penthouse on Park Avenue was gone. The sleek Mercedes Jason had leased for her was repossessed by the dealership following an emergency fraud injunction filed by Brooks.
Allison sat on the edge of a stained mattress in a dingy extended-stay motel in Queens, clutching her phone to her ear. The room smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap disinfectant.
Across the room, Jason was tearing through his luggage like a rabid dog, his eyes bloodshot, his beard unkempt, muttering incoherently to himself.
“Jason, please!” Allison cried out, tears ruining her expensive mascara. “My card wouldn't even buy a sandwich downstairs! The manager says we have to leave by noon if we can’t pay cash! Where is the money you promised me? Where are the offshore accounts?”
“Shut up!” Jason roared, throwing an empty leather briefcase against the wall. “Shut your mouth, Allison! It’s gone! All of it! That bastard Moretti froze the intermediary accounts before the wire transfers could clear!”
“Then call your friends! Call Bob! Call the board members!”
“They won’t take my calls!” Jason screamed, clutching his hair with both hands, his face wild with panic. “The second Moretti’s name hit the street, everyone vanished. Nobody crosses the Moretti syndicate, Allison! If I don’t come up with five million dollars by Friday to cover the mezzanine loan, Moretti isn't going to sue me—he’s going to put me in the East River!”
Allison stared at him, horror dawning over her features. The polished, charming, wealthy man she had seduced away from Catherine was gone. In his place stood a broken, cowardly criminal on the verge of total collapse.
“You lied to me,” Allison whispered, her voice trembling. “You told me Catherine was the dead weight. You told me *you* owned everything.”
“I owned what I could take!” Jason sneered, stepping toward her menacingly. “And you were more than happy to spread your legs and take her jewelry, wasn't you? Don’t act innocent now, Allison! You’re in this with me!”
Allison backed away, her stomach twisting with revulsion and terror.
She grabbed her designer purse—one of the few things she had managed to take from the apartment—and bolted out the motel door into the gray afternoon drizzle.
There was only one way out. Only one person who had ever shown her mercy.
Two hours later, Allison stood outside the glass entrance of *Catherine Bennett Interiors* in SoHo.
The boutique was bustling. Delivery vans were unloading imported Italian fabrics, and clients were walking in and out past the brass-trimmed doors. But stationed outside the entrance were two large, silent men in tailored charcoal suits, their eyes scanning the sidewalk with predatory precision.
Allison pulled her hood up, trying to obscure her puffy, tear-stained face, and rushed toward the doors.
“Cat! Catherine!” Allison screamed as she approached.
Before she could reach the threshold, one of Dante’s enforcers stepped into her path, his broad chest blocking her like a brick wall.
“Step back, miss,” the guard said in a flat, dangerous monotone.
“Please! Let me through! I need to see Catherine! I’m her best friend!” Allison shrieked, clawing at the man’s lapels in sheer desperation. “Catherine, please! Help me!”
The glass door opened smoothly.
Catherine stepped out onto the sidewalk.
She looked breathtaking. She wore an emerald-green wool coat, perfectly tailored trousers, and high heels that accentuated her long legs. Her dark hair was swept up into an elegant chignon, and her face was calm, radiant, and completely untouchable.
Beside her, Dante Moretti stepped out, a long black overcoat draped over his massive shoulders, an unlit cigar between his fingers.
Allison stopped screaming. Her breath caught in her throat.
“Cat...” Allison whimpered, dropping to her knees on the wet concrete, clasping her hands together. “Cat, please. You have to listen to me. Jason lied to me. He manipulated me! He threatened me! He made me take those things!”
Catherine looked down at the woman who had spent months sleeping with her husband and smiling in her face. There was no rage in Catherine’s eyes. There was no shouting.
There was only cold, absolute indifference.
“Allison,” Catherine said, her voice steady and clear, carrying across the sidewalk where passersby were already stopping to look. “Get up. You look pathetic.”
“Cat, I have nowhere to go!” Allison sobbed, reaching out toward the hem of Catherine’s coat. “He spent all the money! He’s dangerous! The motel—the cards—I don’t even have money for food! Please, for the sake of our friendship, just loan me enough to get a ticket home!”
Catherine took a step back, avoiding Allison’s grasping fingers.
“Our friendship died the moment you put on my lipstick in that restaurant,” Catherine said coldly. “You didn't care where I would sleep when you helped Jason forge my name on those loans. You didn't care if I starved when you sat in my home drinking my champagne.”
“I made a mistake!” Allison wept.
“No,” Dante’s deep, rumbling voice intervened, cutting through the damp air like a razor blade. He stepped forward, standing half a step in front of Catherine, looking down at Allison with pure disgust. “You made a calculation. And your math was exceptionally poor.”
Dante signaled to his men with a flick of his wrist.
“Take this trash off the sidewalk,” Dante ordered calmly. “If she approaches Mrs. Bennett again, notify the precinct that the fugitive co-conspirator in the Bennett embezzlement indictment has resurfaced.”
“No! Catherine, please!” Allison screamed as Dante’s men hauled her to her feet and marched her firmly toward the corner of the block. “Catherine!”
Catherine did not look back.
She turned toward Dante, meeting his dark, approving gaze.
“You handled that well,” Dante said softly, a hint of pride in his deep voice.
Catherine smoothed the lapel of her green coat. “A woman cannot rebuild her empire if she stops to cry over weeds.”
May you like
Dante’s smile was breathtaking in its dark brilliance. “Spoken like a true queen. Come, Catherine. Tonight is the Metropolitan Heritage Gala. Let us remind New York who truly rules this city.”
***
