Consequences(93)

The final bit of evidence confirming their involvement came when Ms. Claire Nichols was ushered to the eighty-ninth floor of Trump Tower—the private city dwelling belonging to none other than Mr. Anthony Rawlings.

Emily Vandersol, twenty-nine-years-old, sister and only living relative of Ms. Nichols, was asked about her knowledge of Claire and Anthony’s relationship. Mrs. Vandersol stated that she’d recently spoke to Claire and she sounded well. Anthony Rawlings was not mentioned during their conversation, and Mrs. Vandersol had no further comments.

Sorry, ladies, it seems that Ms. Claire Nichols is holding on to Anthony Rawlings. What will she tell us about this private man? We are anxiously waiting to learn.

Claire’s hands trembled. Although she’d finished reading, she continued to look down as she searched desperately for something to say—some explanation. Finally, she set the pages on the floor and kept her eyes down. There was nothing to say. The article didn’t reveal any information, although the sensational title alluded it would. Tony knew that, he flew all the way home. He’d obviously read the article multiple times. It was her in the picture—she was talking to Meredith—it wasn’t what it seemed—but in her head she could hear his voice.

Now, she heard him stand as he walked toward her. “Appearances, Claire—how many times have I told you? Appearances mean everything. There’s a picture of you sitting with her—the author. It doesn’t matter if what she writes is accurate; it’s believable because she’s seen talking to you.”

He wasn’t yelling, he’d regained some control, yet the aura of rage remained. Claire felt his penetrating stare and didn’t want to look into his black eyes.

“Get up.”

Claire knew she should—but she didn’t move—she couldn’t—her body was paralyzed with fear. She had no defense—she’d disobeyed his rules.

His volume increased, “Claire, get up!”

The tears dripped off her nose. “Please, Tony”—she sobbed—“I’m so sorry.”

Defenseless to stop his actions—her body rose as he lifted her by her arm. His voice exuded wrath, “The entire way home I prayed that somehow this was another misunderstanding. You wouldn’t do this after I put my trust in you—but I knew if it wasn’t a misunderstanding—if you’d truly disobeyed—there had to be consequences. There had to be a punishment for this blatant disregard for the most fundamental of rules!”

She saw his hand move and instinctively veered to avoid another blow. The miss of her cheek infuriated him—his control vanished—he swung again. This time, his hand caught her pearl necklace. The fine chain proved no contest for Tony’s anger and power. The pearl charm flew as the broken chain slid from around Claire’s neck. The next impact put her back on the floor, and she tasted blood. Claire started to reach for her face, to learn the source of the blood, when his booming voice proclaimed, “I believe some time away from people—some time alone—will help you remember who and who not to talk to.”

She pleaded for him to stop—she was sorry. She tried to turn and to twist, yet he continued to hurt her. She tried to yell—but sobs replaced pleas. Claire tried to protect her face and her body, yet she couldn’t get away. Time had stopped moving. She wondered how long this had been happening—it could have been only seconds—or maybe hours—Claire didn’t know.

Suddenly thrown backward by a forceful blow, his voice drifted far away. Though her entire body cried out in agony from the abuse—this was different—more—a sudden onset of intense pain. She tried to get up—to speak—but she couldn’t.