Once A Servant, Now A Legend

Chapter Six

The Crystal Garden Lounge gleamed with chandeliers and the scent of imported tea. 

Madam Hillary Smith sat at the center of a small gathering, pearls gleaming at her neck, her laughter a polished, performative sound. 

Her circle of old society friends surrounded her, the kind who thrived on gossip disguised as polite conversation.

One of them, a woman with perfectly coiffed silver hair, leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. “Hillary, darling, you look simply radiant! And this lounge, so exclusive. Did Fred arrange this for you?”

Hillary waved a manicured hand with feigned modesty, her smile bright and practiced. “Oh, Fred always insists I have the best. He booked this entire floor, actually. Just for a quiet afternoon, you understand.”

“The entire floor?” another friend gasped, her eyes wide with admiration. “Goodness, Hillary, your future son-in-law is simply devoted! My son barely remembers my birthday, let alone books a hotel floor!”

A titter rippled through the group. “And isn’t Fred Clinton just the most eligible bachelor?” a third woman chimed in, adjusting her silk scarf. “So handsome, so successful. Not like some, others.” She shot a pointed look at Hillary, who nodded sagely.

“Indeed,” Hillary purred, taking a delicate sip of tea. “Genevieve deserves nothing less. After all she’s been through, especially that dreadful first marriage, a momentary lapse of judgment, really.”

“Oh, that’s right! What was his name again? The one who worked for her company?”

“Jeff Benson,” Hillary supplied, her voice dripping with disdain. “A complete nobody. Came from nothing, went back to nothing. Genevieve was far too kind-hearted, giving him a chance like that. But we’ve put all that behind us now, thankfully.” 

She straightened her pearls, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Fred, on the other hand, understands true value. He even bought a property for them, you know.”

“Oh, how wonderful!”

“A lovely little pied-à-terre, I imagine?”

Hillary’s smile widened, unable to resist delivering her grand reveal. “Not just a ‘pied-à-terre,’ darling. The penthouse suite. Fred insisted Genevieve have a home worthy of her. He said it’s to be their wedding residence.”

Gasps and exclamations of delight filled the lounge. “The penthouse! Hillary, you must show us! Just a peek?”

Hillary pretended reluctance for a moment, then rose with deliberate grace. “Well, since you insist so charmingly, I suppose a short glimpse wouldn’t hurt. One must keep an eye on these things, after all.” 

Her friends gathered their designer purses, chattering eagerly as Hillary led the way, every step a performance of confidence and pride.

Meanwhile, in the hushed elegance of the penthouse, Lena stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sprawling beneath her like a map of endless possibilities. 

Sunlight streamed through the glass, catching the gleam of the skyline like scattered jewels. 

She traced the cold glass of the balcony door, then the soft leather of a nearby sofa. “This,” she whispered, turning in slow disbelief. “This can’t be real.”

Jeff stood beside her, hands in his pockets, a faint curve to his lips as he watched her reaction. “It’s real. Go on, see for yourself.”

“I can’t stay here,” she said finally, shaking her head. “A night here probably costs more than half a year of my old rent. I can’t accept it.”

“You’re not accepting charity,” Jeff replied evenly.

She frowned, unsure. “Then what is this?”

He hesitated, then spoke with a calm that barely covered something else. “Let’s say it’s overdue recognition. Years ago, when your company, Xeus Technologies, was just starting, I wanted to invest. I sent a proposal, but you were already in talks for your IPO. By the time I followed up, everything had collapsed.”

Lena blinked, startled. “You wanted to invest? In me?”

“I saw your potential,” he said softly. “I still do. Consider this a delayed investment. When you rise again, and you will, I’ll expect my returns.”

Something trembled in her chest, fragile and warm. Since her fall, she’d been met with nothing but pity or disdain. Yet this man looked at her not as a failure, but as someone still capable of standing tall. “You really think I can rise again?” she asked, her voice small.

“I don’t think,” Jeff said quietly. “I know.”

She turned away, blinking quickly. “You shouldn’t say things like that so easily.”

“I don’t say anything easily,” he replied, his eyes briefly soft before he looked away. “Now, come. Let me show you the rest.”

After a brief tour, he returned to her, a sleek silver keycard in his hand. “This opens everything. The elevator, the safe, the suite access. If you need anything, call me directly.”

Her fingers brushed his as she took it. A soft current passed between them. “Jeff,” she said quietly, “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he murmured. “Just make it count.” He pressed the elevator button. “Take care of yourself,” he added. “The world isn’t kind to second chances, but it listens when you stand back up.”

Lena smiled faintly. “I’ll remember that.”

The elevator chimed, and when the doors slid open, Madam Hillary and her entourage stood there, mid-laughter. The sound died instantly. For a moment, silence reigned. Hillary’s painted smile froze. “J–Jeff?”