Chapter 23: Collecting Armies
Chapter 23: Collecting Armies
"I just found out," she said, barely above a whisper. "He swore he was clean. That I was his only one. I was stupid enough to believe him." Her breath hitched. "He won’t even pick up now. He knows I’m here."
Anita’s face didn’t shift, but inside her stomach tightened. Different names. Same betrayal. Same gut-deep rot.
Tessa let out a bitter laugh. "God, and the worst part? My mother warned me. She said any man who hides his phone like it’s the nuclear codes is hiding something."
Anita glanced at her. "Your mother’s a smart woman."
"Too smart. Which is why I didn’t listen." Tessa dropped into the seat beside Anita now, as if the small acknowledgment had unlocked permission. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dump this on you. I just... I’ve been spiraling for an hour. And then you walked in like some war general in heels, and it felt like the universe was telling me to get a grip."
Anita’s mouth twitched—half amusement, half sympathy. She didn’t want to feel for this girl. But it was hard not to. Tessa reminded her too much of herself, years ago. Before the glamor, before the titles. Before David turned the warmth in her chest into steel.
"I won’t tell you it gets easier," Anita said. "But it gets... sharper. You learn how to aim it. Where to cut."
She nodded fervently. Getting a free lesson from the woman even her own mother admired was like getting a one way ticket to heaven.
Then, a buzz rang in the air. Tessa stiffened, thinking it was hers, but when Anita reached for her bag and fished for her phone, she sighed with relief.
Anita glanced at the screen, it was a call from the Domestic Service Agency. She’d been waiting for it. With a curt flick of her thumb, she answered.
"Yes?"
Tessa sat up straighter, instinctively attentive as Anita’s voice sounded – cool and authoritative.
"Ten... No, all beautiful and classy with different shapes and sizes. Color? I’m not racist," her brows creased, annoyed at that nonsense question.
Her go-to agency didn’t have what she needed and they recommended this one, but Anita was already unimpressed. Her fingers tapped against the armrest of the sleek bench as she listened, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
"I don’t care where you found them," she said, voice like a knife wrapped in silk. "But if they swim in scandal, don’t know how to walk without squeaking or speak without oversharing, don’t bother."
Tessa blinked, trying not to look as startled as she felt. Ten? Beautiful and classy? Different sizes and colors?... That could only be women.
Her eyes lit up, was her idol gathering women for some kind of elite team?
Anita ended the call and was just about responding to an email when Tessa interrupted.
"Ehm, Mrs. Blackwood, a– are you in need of women for a club? She bolted to her feet before she could overthink it, her hands clasped in front of her like an overeager intern. "C– can you consider me too?"
Anita’s fingers paused over the screen of her phone. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, pinning Tessa in place with that ice-water stare.
"A club?" she echoed, voice dangerously soft. "Is that what you think I’m building?"
Tessa faltered, the fire in her chest cooling instantly. "I—I just thought... with the way you described them – beautiful, classy, different types – it sounded like you were assembling something more... exclusive."
Anita leaned back, her expression unreadable. For a moment, silence stretched between them, taut as a wire.
Then, she lowered her head to her screen once more, saying with disinterest. "If I were building a club, you’d know. It would be on the front page before the ink dried."
Tessa’s eyes lit up. True!
She sat back down, eyes dimming, but her mind worked tirelessly for a matter she shouldn’t concern herself with.
She’d actually been thinking of ways to get close to her idol. As an influencer with millions of followings and a knack for networking, Tessa knew she had something to offer...if only Anita would see it.
"Mrs. Blackwood," she began cautiously, choosing her words like stepping stones, "I might not be the right fit for what you want, but I do have access to platforms and people who could amplify whatever you’re building here. Maybe I could help in ways beyond the usual?"
Anita looked up, her gaze sharper than ever, weighing Tessa’s words. Then, after a moment that stretched too long, she smirked.
"Bold," she said, almost amused. "Most people want to be seen with me. You want to be for me."
Tessa nodded, a flicker of hope lighting inside her chest. "Exactly."
"Why?" Anita’s voice cut through the quiet like a scalpel, cold and precise. She didn’t move from her seat but fixed Tessa with a look that seemed to peel back layers, probing for the truth beneath the eagerness.
Tessa swallowed hard, heart pounding. "Because... I’m tired of being just another face in the crowd. I want to be part of something real. Something that means something. And you—you seem like someone who actually does that. You don’t just play the game; you change it."
Anita’s smirk, mind reaching with thoughts and calculations. Those girls she wanted were mere house helps, but it seemed this clueless one thought she was building a secret society of women.
However, Anita was not nice. And she never let go of any useful pieces. This girl, Tessa, has barged into her chessboard, uninvited. Whether she ended up a disposable pawn or the queen, Tessa’s skills would determine.
Anita finally looked at her now. Really looked at her. Then, she opened her dark-shaded lips carefully and slowly. "Change the game? And what makes you think you have what it takes?"
Tessa squared her shoulders, finding courage in the woman’s piercing gaze. "Because I’m ambitious. I want to be resourceful. I want connections beyond my social media handles. I want to command a room like you do, Mrs. Blackwood. I learn fast. I want to be useful to myself and the society, not just pretty..." her voice dropped as she lowered her eyes to her intertwined fingers. "I want revenge on my ex."
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