She felt encased in ice. Like the world had suddenly flash-frozen and she was caught up in the destruction.
Someone had video of her rape. This guy was out there, and he knew who she was, and he was going to use that information and ruin her fragile happiness.
She wanted to vomit.
She wanted to die.
Mrs. Cabral’s mouth kept moving, and Chelsea realized dumbly that she was still talking. She forced herself to listen to the woman, the USB stick sitting in the middle of the table between them like a cockroach. ”. . . I’ve spent too long building up our family name and making us famous. I’m not going to let who we are be ruined because you can’t keep your legs together and have the grace not to film it. If the network finds out about this, we’re going to be the laughingstock of everyone in Hollywood. I won’t have that, and I won’t pay blackmailers. The best way to correct this situation is simply for you to get out of Sebastian’s life. If you’re not around, there’s no one to blackmail over.”
“Okay,” Chelsea breathed.
Mrs. Cabral sat back, clearly surprised at Chelsea’s quick concession. “You don’t have anything to say for yourself?”
What could she say? What could she do that would make this better? Absolutely nothing. And the last thing she’d ever wanted to do was hurt Sebastian. The thought of him seeing the video was like a knife in her gut.
He’d see that, and he’d realize how ruined she was. How unworthy of him she was. Hot tears started to spill from her eyes, and to her surprise, Mrs. Cabral offered her a napkin.
“It’s not personal, my dear,” Mrs. Cabral said. “It’s business. This family is my business. You understand, don’t you?”
Chelsea nodded.
“So you’ll leave him? Today?” she pressed.
What choice did Chelsea have? “I’ll tell him tonight that it’s over.”
“Leave now,” Mrs. Cabral emphasized. “Send him a note. I can get a private jet for you. Don’t give him the opportunity to convince you to stay. Just get out of New York and go into hiding.”
No. She’d leave him, but on her own terms. Sebastian deserved better than her fleeing like a rat in the night. She swallowed hard and pushed the USB stick back toward Mrs. Cabral. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing he can say that would make me change my mind. This will be the last time you see me.”
Mrs. Cabral nodded. “Good.”
*
Chelsea was in a daze as she took the subway home. She didn’t know if she’d lost Rufus, and she didn’t care. If someone had tried to hold a conversation with her, she’d have failed miserably. Horror rolled in her mind, over and over again.
She’d ruined Sebastian.
Destroyed him. He’d wanted the marriage for convenience’s sake, and no matter what it had morphed into now, he’d ultimately wanted to get married because he’d wanted to avoid attention. There’d be no avoiding it if that tape got out. He’d lose any respectability or credibility once his name was attached to hers.
Because it wasn’t just a sex tape—it was a crime. The media would have a field day. Some people would be disgusted that it would be out, and others would be titillated. The more lurid it was, the more people would check it out.
She’d be infamous overnight.
And here she’d been encouraging Sebastian to go a little more public with his art. To look at someday trying to set up an exhibition. To move forward and show the world that Sebastian Cabral was more than just a man with money and an annoying family. To show that he had genuine talent and to share it with the world.
His name would be garbage if hers was attached to it. She’d ruin everything she touched.
Which was why she had to leave.
She walked home and entered the town house, noting it was utterly quiet. No Sebastian, not yet. That was good. That’d give her time to pack and settle her mind before he came home.