Bennie had left her children alone and was standing outside Brian's penthouse, her arms wrapped tightly around her as the wind tugged at her coat. Contemplating on whether she was making the right decision. The city glittered behind her like a million whispered secrets. She pressed the buzzer. A moment passed. Then the door clicked.
Inside, Brian looked shambled. Not his usual tailored, icy self. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up, glass of scotch in hand.
"You came," he said, voice low, with that familiar rasp.
"Of course, you called."
He looked at her for a long second. Then stepped aside. "Come in."
The apartment was dim, smelling faintly of whiskey and some weed. Music played in the background; it was smooth and melancholic.
"Want a drink?"
"No. What is this about, Brian?"
He took a sip from his glass, walked over to the window, then turned to her with tired eyes. "I owe you an apology."
She blinked. "For what?"
"For being cruel. For making you feel like you're just... property. I don't know why I did it. Maybe because I'm scared. Maybe because I didn't want to feel this. But I do."
Bennie folded her arms, heart hammering. "Feel what?"
Brian exhaled. "I think I love you, Bennie. And I'm not saying that to trap you. I'm not rushing you. I just... I needed you to know."
The silence hung thick between them. Then he added, more softly, "There's a gala this weekend. I want you to come. With me. As my date."
Bennie didn't know what to say. He looked so exposed. For a moment, she didn't see the manipulative billionaire. She saw a man broken by his own loneliness.
She nodded slowly. "I'll think about it."
They had a little talk. And then Brian moved closer to hers and his lips brushed hers. She was stunned at first but slowly gave in for a kiss, then suddenly she got up.
"I have to leave."
She arrived a few hours before the sun had completely risen.
Peter had just arrived from his late night work. "What is this supposed to mean?" He asked her in a high angry voice.
"You left the kids alone. You're doing too much Ben."
"I had something important to take care of, and they're just fine. Don't raise your voice at me again Peter." She responded as she headed to the bath.
It was morning, Peter had breakfast ready for the kids and sent them off to school.
Three days passed by, and a package arrived at the apartment. It was wrapped in dark red silk with a note in cursive:
For Bennie <3
Inside was a dress. Not just a dress—a statement. Blood red, slit up the thigh, plunging neckline, and backless. The kind of dress that demanded attention.
Peter found it before she did. He was sitting on the bed when she walked in, holding the gown in his hands like something fragile.
"Where did this come from?"
Bennie hesitated. "Brian sent it. For the gala."
He looked up at her, eyes dark. "Don't wear it."
She stepped closer. "Why not?"
"Because you shouldn't. You're a married woman for crying out loud. Why do you have to be his date?"
She didn't answer.
"I can't tell you what to do," he said quietly. "But if you wear it, people will talk. They already do. Just think about Sandra. About Anna."
The silence between them was painful. And yet, the dress stayed. Hung carefully in the closet like a dare.
The night of the gala arrived. Bennie stood before the mirror, the dress clinging to her like a second skin. Her hair was curled to one side, lips painted wine red. She looked like someone else. Someone bold. Someone who didn't belong to the quiet life she'd built with Peter.
Brian met her at the entrance of the Grand Luna Ballroom, his gaze devouring her from the moment she stepped out of the car.
"You look... Stunning," he murmured, offering his arm.
Flashlights exploded around them. Reporters shouted questions. Brian kept her close, guiding her through the chaos like a man who had just claimed his queen.
Inside, the ballroom glimmered with chandeliers and white roses. Powerful people mingled, laughed, exchanged secrets behind champagne flutes. Bennie felt every eye on her.
Brian introduced her to CEOs, actresses, foreign investors. He touched her lower back, leaned in to whisper things that made her blush and burn.
"Smile," he said at one point, pulling her close for a photo.
The camera clicked just as he kissed her cheek.
The next morning, the storm hit.
"Billionaire Brian Thompson Spotted with a Mystery Woman"
"Was she more than just his assistant? What's happening"
Red Dress, Red Flags: Socialite Seen Getting Cozy With Corporate Shark!
Photos flooded the tabloids. Her in the dress. Him with his hand on her waist. The kiss on the cheek. The way she leaned into him.
Peter was silent all morning. He made breakfast for the kids, kissed them goodbye, then sat on the porch with a coffee he didn't drink.
Jay arrived an hour later. He didn't bring up the headlines right away. Just sat with him.
"You okay, man?"
Peter nodded. "No. But I will be."
At school, things were worse.
Desmond and Sandra were used to whispers. But today, the whispers were loud.
"My mom said she saw your mom kissing a billionaire on TV. Is that why we don't see you with your mom anymore?"
"Is your mom famous now?"
That afternoon, Peter went to pick up the kids. As they walked home, they passed two mothers chatting by the gate.
"I told you," one of them said, too loudly. "That woman's a whore. Sleeping with Brian. Probably cheated on her husband, and now look."
The other woman gasped. "In front of the kids?"
"They should know what kind of mother they have."
Peter froze.
Jay, who had come along, noticed the tension in Peter's jaw before he saw the reason.
Peter turned, fists clenched. The woman was still talking, now pointing toward Bennie's photos on her phone, showing them to his daughter.
"That's enough!" Peter roared, storming toward her.
The woman jumped back, startled.
"You don't get to poison my kids with your filth! You don't know my wife. You don't know the truth!"
He was almost nose to nose with her. Rage simmered in his voice.
Jay stepped in just in time, grabbing his arm.
"Pete. Don't. Not here. Not in front of the kids."
Peter looked down at Anna. Her eyes were wide with fear.
His shoulders slumped. He pulled back, shaking, then scooped Anna into his arms.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go home."
As they walked to the car, Jay stayed behind just long enough to stare the woman down.
"You ever say something like that again in front of those kids," he said coldly, "I swear, you'll regret it."
The woman blanched. Jay walked away.
That night, Peter sat in the dark while the kids slept. Jay handed him a beer and sank into the armchair.
"You can't fight everyone, Pete."
"They were showing pictures. Calling Bennie a whore."
"I know. But this isn't about them. It's about her. And you. If you want to fight for something, fight for that."
Peter didn't respond. But something in his expression changed.
Meanwhile, Bennie sat in her car, parked outside the house. She hadn't gotten out yet.
Inside her purse, her phone buzzed.
Brian: I know people
are talking. But don't hide. Wear their words like that dress. Own it.
She looked at the house. At the lights still on.
She exhaled. And stepped out into the night.