This Crazy Rich Boy - Chapter 148
Gabriel removes himself from the press conference like some rock star who had just finished a concert. In the hallway outside the conference room of the TXCI building, he joins Claire, who runs up to him and throws her arms around him.
“Thank you,” she whispers, teary-eyed. “Thank you so much, Gab.”
“I should have done that right when we first became real. Should not have prolonged that lie.”
Claire smiles, tearing flowing down her cheeks. “But still. That was a load off my ċhėst.”
Catherine Buenavista, who has been watching this exchange, says, “That was a bold move, Sir. I didn’t know you were set to do it, though.” She laughs nervously, as people mill around them. “I would have advised otherwise, but—”
“It’s alright, Cath. I take all the responsibility.” He takes Claire’s hand. “Now, we’d have to go and check on Miguel’s condition. The doctor said—”
He never finishes his words—Michelle Alcantara appears before them with murder in her face. She has her eyes on Claire.
“So I was right all along,” Michelle scoffs, her laser-eyes burning into Claire’s face. “You were an impostor. A low-life, social-climbing fiancée for hire. I knew it ever since I saw you in that party. You had none of the patina of glitz and glamour, you faker!”
“How dare you—” Gabriel begins to say, but Claire stops him, and faces Michelle.
“You know what,” Claire says, obviously trying hard to hold back her own rage. “Who needs glitz and glamour when you have real love, Michelle? Do you like what you have now? Has it brought you the contentment your heart needs?”
Michelle flashes a smile, but it’s one that totally lacks joy. “I have everything I need, girl. And more. And none of what I have you will ever get, in this lifetime or the next. You will always be the woman some rich man hired to be his fake fiancée.”
“Where were you when Gabriel was out there, telling the whole world how his fake relationship has become real?” If you’d look at Claire’s face, you’d think she’s the higher person trying to drill some sense into a mad woman. “Fake is soooo yesterday,” she says, mimicking Michelle’s accent and behavior. “Today, it’s as real as the ground we’re standing on.”
Michelle could only bȧrė her fangs. “Slut!”
Claire laughs at that and shakes her head. “At least I didn’t cheat on anyone who had loved me for ten years, Michelle. So between the two of us, who’s the absolute sŀut?”
Michelle Alcantara’s eyes gleam with pure anger for a split-second, then her hand flies into a blur, slapping Claire in the face so hard that the impact makes her reeling back.
Claire touches her cheek in disbelief—here, in public, surrounded by reporters who just minutes ago were regaled by Gabriel’s tale of extraordinary love and affection, Michelle Alcantara, a supposedly respected businesswoman, stoops down so low Claire wonders if her reputation would ever recover. She straightens herself up and even bȧrės her face, taunting Michelle to slap her once more. Claire thinks if she slaps Michelle back, she would lose the upper hand in the eyes of the crowd that Michelle had unwittingly given her. She recalls the events of that pool party from weeks ago, when she and Michelle had a slapping-and-hair-pulling match right in front of Gabriel’s friends. She’s not that kind of girl anymore. Maybe it has something to do with Gabriel’s influence in her life and attitude.
So she holds back, although her cheek stings and she knows it’s beet red from the force of that slap.
“Come out of that fake meekness, tiger woman,” Michelle taunts, obviously trying to engage her in some catfight. “Come out, faker.”
Somebody from the back of the crowd yells, “Slap her back! Give the bitch what she’s asking for!”
But Claire, seeing the big picture, simply smiles. “You have gained nothing, Michelle. And yet you have lost everything.”
“Why, you—”
But before Michelle’s hand can do some more damage, an arm grabs her—it’s Catherine Buenavista, Michelle’s friend and loyalist, and Gabriel’s director of public relations. “That’s enough, Michelle. You’ve already created a regrettable spectacle here.”
Michelle is stunned—she couldn’t believe it.
“Stop now,” Catherine insists. She glances at both Gabriel and Claire. “I’m sorry. I should have controlled this.”
“Are you with them now?” Michelle glares at Catherine. “How dare you—”
“That’s enough ‘dares’ for today, Michelle. And no, I’m not being ‘with them’, I’m just doing the decent thing, which is to save you from further making a fool out of yourself. Come on.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Leave me alone. I’m not finished with this sŀut, yet.”
“Oh, but I’m finished with you,” Claire says with utter coolness. “Come on, Gab. We’ve yet to speak with Miguel’s doctor.”
“Oh, no, you’re not going,” Michelle snarls. Her face is all beet red, filmy with sweat. Whatever elegance Michelle must have had earlier as a moneyed person, she’s about lost it all now. “We’re finished when I say we’re finished.” She grabs Claire arm, pulling at her. “You’re not going anywhere, you big sŀut!”
That’s the last straw. Something snaps in Claire’s head—she’s her mother’s daughter, after all. She grew up not taking any shit from anybody. And that moment Michelle Alcantara is grabbing her arm, trying to pull her, Claire’s mind whites out. She makes a quick movement to free her arm from Michelle’s grasp, then she grabs Michelle by the ŀȧpel of her coat, then drags her down and throws her sliding down the floor, like someone hurling a bowling ball down the lane. It doesn’t help that the floor is polished marble, while Michelle’s clothing is silk and therefore slippery—Michelle slides down the floor and rolls like a human merry-go-round, her arms and feet sticking up in the air in her vain attempt to get some footing.
Cameras flash like crazy, as the reporters outdo one another in getting the most striking, if not hilarious, angle of Michelle Alcantara, previously a favorite magazine cover model back in the days when she had been Gabriel’s fiancée, sprawled on the floor, blinking in disbelief.
“Smile for us, please,” one reporter even cheekily said, which is met with a roar of laughter.
Big picture? Reputation? To hell with all that bullshit, Claire thinks, as she takes Gabriel by the arm, away from that place.