The Billionaire They Kicked Out

Chapter 9: The Ghost in the Hallway

 

 

"I just don't know what to tell people anymore, Damien. I really don't."

Lilian stood in front of her vanity, unpinning the diamonds from her ears. The party was over, but the air in the room was still thick with the smell of the cheap scotch I had been pouring all night. I stood by the door, my jacket over my arm, watching her reflection.

"You could have told them the truth," I said. My voice was raspy from the silence I had kept for six hours. "You could have said, 'This is my husband.'"

Lilian froze. She slowly put the earring down on the glass tabletop. "And then what? Watch the room go quiet? Watch Mr. Thorne pull his tip back because he realized he just handed twenty dollars to a member of the family? It would have been a disaster."

"So it’s better that they think you’re married to a ghost?"

"It’s better than them thinking I’m married to someone who enjoys being a waiter," she snapped, finally turning to face me. Her eyes were red-rimmed. "You didn't even try to correct him, Damien. You just took the drink order. You just stood there. Why do you always let them do it? Why do you make it so easy for them to treat you like nothing?"

"I don't make them do anything, Lilian. They choose to do it. And tonight, you chose to let them."

She let out a frustrated cry and threw her silk wrap onto the bed. "I am trying to keep my father’s company from falling apart! I am trying to keep our heads above water! I don't have the energy to fight a war for your dignity every single night when you won't even fight it for yourself."

She walked over to me, her expression softening into something that hurt more than her anger. It was pity. Cold, hard pity.

"Lately, I’ve been thinking about what Aunt Lydia said," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "About what a man is supposed to be. I look at Ethan, and I see a man who takes up space. I see someone who commands a room. And then I look at you..."

"And you see a nobody," I finished for her.

Lilian didn't argue. She didn't deny it. She just looked away. "I’m tired, Damien. I’m just so tired of being the only one with a name worth protecting."

She walked past me into the bathroom and clicked the lock. It was the sound of a door closing on our marriage.

---

The next morning was the "Recovery Brunch." It was a smaller group—just the Sterlings and Ethan. I was back at my post, standing near the sideboard, ready to refill coffee.

"The gala was a triumph," Victor said, stabbing a piece of melon. "Thorne is interested in the merger. He likes the 'image' we’re projecting. Strong. Professional."

"Except for that awkward moment at the bar," Marcus chuckled, glancing at me. "I thought Thorne was going to try to hire Damien as his personal butler. He actually asked me if the 'tall guy' was available for weekend shifts."

The table laughed. It was a casual, easy laughter, the kind that people use when they aren't even trying to be mean anymore, they just truly believe you are beneath them.

"I have to admit," Ethan said, leaning back and crossing his legs. He was wearing a cashmere sweater that looked like it cost more than a car. "Damien has a real talent for it. The way he took that tip? Pure professional. Most people would have had some pride, but Damien just... absorbed it. It’s a rare quality in a man. Total lack of ego."

I felt the blood rushing to my face. I looked at Lilian. She was staring at her coffee, her thumb tracing the rim of the cup.

"Lilian," I said. My voice was a low warning.

She didn't look up. "Ethan is just joking, Damien. Don't be so sensitive."

"He's not joking," I said. "He’s insulting your husband."

Ethan’s smile didn't fade. It grew sharper. "Husband? Oh, right. I keep forgetting. It’s hard to remember when you’re the one picking up the dry cleaning and pouring the drinks. Tell me, Damien, do you ever get tired of wearing that same grey suit? I have an old one in my trunk—Italian silk, a bit small for me now. You want it? It would be an upgrade from whatever... that is."

He pointed a polished shoe toward my trousers.

"He doesn't need your hand-me-downs, Ethan," Lilian said, but there was no fire in her voice. It sounded like she was defending a child she was embarrassed of.

"Why not?" Miranda chimed in. "At least he’d look like he belongs in the same zip code as us. Honestly, Lilian, you’re far too protective. If he wants to be treated like a man, he should start acting like one. Until then, he should be grateful for the charity."

I looked at the table. I looked at the people who had lived off my silence for three years. I looked at my wife, who was allowing a man to offer me his trash while she sat and ate her breakfast.

"I'm going for a walk," I said.

"Don't forget the trash on your way out," Victor called after me. "The bins are full."

I walked out of the room, my heart hammering against my ribs. I didn't go to the trash bins. I walked through the grand foyer and out the front doors, my feet taking me toward the edge of the estate where the trees grew thick.

I needed air. I needed to breathe.

But as I reached the stone bridge at the edge of the property, I heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel behind me.

"Wait up, 'Husband.'"

I turned to see Ethan. He had followed me out. He was alone, his hands in his pockets, a look of pure, unadulterated malice on his face. The "nice guy" act he put on for Lilian was gone.

"What do you want, Ethan?"

"I want to give you a piece of advice," he said, stepping closer until he was in my personal space. He smelled of expensive cologne and greed. "Lilian is a Sterling. She’s meant for greatness. She’s meant for someone who can buy the world and give it to her on a silver plate. And you? You’re just the dirt under her fingernails."

"You don't know anything about our marriage," I said.

"I know it’s over," he smirked. "I’ve already talked to Victor. The papers are being drawn up. All we need is a reason a big, public reason to get her to sign. And trust me, Damien, I’m very good at creating reasons."

He reached out and patted my cheek, a gesture so patronizing it made my vision go white.

"By this time next week, I’ll be sitting in your seat. I’ll be sleeping in your bed. And you? You’ll be exactly what you were when you started. A nobody with nothing."

He turned to walk away, but then he stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

"Oh, and one more thing," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't bother checking the safe in the study. I’ve already moved the Sterling family heirloom. The one that’s been missing since this morning."

My heart stopped. The Sterling Diamond. It was worth millions, the core of their family’s remaining wealth.

"What did you do?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Ethan just smiled a wide, terrifying grin as he pointed toward the pocket of my own jacket. The jacket I had left hanging in the mudroom an hour ago.

"I didn't do anything," he whispered. "You did. And I think the police are already at the front gate."

From the driveway, the faint, wailing sound of a siren began to echo through the trees.