Regrets - Chapter Forty
Nicole arrives at her engagement party with a surprise and a new agenda in "Operation 'F That Guy'.
Saturday - Week 3
The Engagement Party
(part 1 of 2)
Operation “F That Guy” – Nicole
The car curved through Sorelle’s private drive, gravel crunching under white stone arches, the late sun gilding everything in the curated illusion of calm. Inside the back seat, the temperature was cool, expensive, and airless.
Aaron watched Nicole in the reflection of the tinted glass. “You really showed up…I didn’t think you would.”
Nicole didn’t look away from the desert rolling past. “I said I would.”
He gave a small, disbelieving laugh. “You still amaze me sometimes. After everything, I thought you’d call it off.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You’ve been... distant.”
Nicole turned her head then, slow and deliberate. “We had an agreement, Aaron. And leverage or not, this is me delivering.”
He studied her for a beat too long, maybe trying to find the soft place he used to exploit. Her expression offered nothing back. “You look incredible,” he said finally, voice dipping toward his normal charm register. Nicole did not answer. He smiled, small and smug, like he’d already won something. “We’re good for each other, you know. It works.”
She adjusted one earring in the window’s reflection, her tone smooth as glass. “A deal’s a deal.”
Aaron leaned back, satisfied. “I knew you’d come around.” Nicole smiled, just enough for him to mistake it for surrender.
Outside, the car slowed in front of the main portico, fountains whispering over polished stone. Hotel staff waited at perfect attention, the main doors already open, with photographers stationed discreetly by the hedges. Aaron straightened his jacket, glancing toward her with the practiced warmth of a man stepping into a spotlight. “Ready?”
Nicole’s hand found the handle. “Always.”
She stepped out first.
The flash hit immediately. Aaron followed a half-beat behind, and Nicole caught his reflection in the mirrored glass of the entry. Confident. Calculated.
By the time Nicole stepped into the central courtyard, the desert sun was lowering but still punishing. The late light hitting hard against white umbrellas and warm stone tiles with a glare that refused to soften. She scanned the space with the quiet precision of someone taking inventory: three photographers staged near the bar; two board members pretending not to stare; her mother already mid-conversation with Rick Chambers, face lit in practiced delight. Every angle accounted for.
Aaron drifted close beside her, already slipping into charm mode, hand at her back just enough to claim, not enough to comfort. He didn’t see the way she shifted slightly out of range, letting him touch fabric instead of skin.
Sorelle gleamed with curated elegance. Dried desert grasses and early-autumn florals, amber roses and russet dahlias spilled from oversized urns, fighting the heat in curated defiance. Waitstaff moved in deliberate, slow loops, the kind of pace heat demanded. And from the corner, a string quartet played something smooth and lifeless. Music designed not to offend.
Nicole hated it on instinct.
This was it. The official engagement party. Billed as intimate but exclusive, a spectacle dressed as celebration.
She was in full armor: deep green silk, richer and more dangerous than anyone understood. Sharp heels. The gold chain at her collarbone. And the ring, Aaron’s gaudy, over-cut engagement thing, sat heavy on her finger like a dare. A visual echo of a past version of herself. But today, she’d chosen to showcase it.
He leaned in as they walked past the terrace crowd. “You look incredible. Like something I should never have gotten my hands on.”
“Don’t tempt me to agree,” she said under her breath.
He chuckled, not catching the edge.
The party was crawling with handpicked faces: Templeton board members, local philanthropists, investors, and “dear friends of your mother’s.” The Old Guard was here, as was the Scott family. Mitchell reserved, Charles unbothered, James watching everything with silent calculation.
Maggie Collins stood with Joan near the terrace rail. Harry and Maddie had tucked into a table by the mimosa station, while Sam Huntington and Suzanne chatted near the koi pond. Rose Penwick Scott stood beside James, statuesque in muted silk and heirloom pearls, offering polite smiles like carefully measured concessions. She hadn’t said a word to Aaron as they passed.
Tessa, Brie, Leah, and Aja were draped in muted pastels with bold lips and louder energy. Alexis stood with them, a vision in sapphire blue, drink in hand. Her eyes tracked Nicole just once, sharp, unreadable.
Elizabeth was everywhere and nowhere, moving between tables like a campaign manager with a God complex. Her slate silk dress caught the courtyard light in muted planes, pearls gleaming at her collarbone. Perfectly composed. She wore power the way others wore perfume, layered and impossible to ignore.
Nicole’s gaze flicked out toward the glass entry doors.
Cam stood there, in a tailored jacket and slacks. Not flashy or hidden, just present. Nicole’s pulse held steady. Everything was where it should be.
She and Aaron began the rounds.
Aaron led with a hand at her waist, guiding her through clusters of guests like they were another investment portfolio to charm. Nicole smiled on cue, nodding through introductions, laughter timed to half-seconds. Every gesture deliberate, every reaction measured.
“Nicole, Aaron…how wonderful to see you,” came the smooth baritone of Robert Hinch. He stood with Alexis Blackwell at his side. Aaron grinned too widely. “Robert. Alexis. I was just telling Nicole we need to sit down soon about Templeton’s broader legal strategy. There’s so much opportunity once we align legal updates with the next phase. I can pick up some of Nicole’s ideas and move them forward.”
Nicole felt the shift. Hinch’s subtle exhale, Alexis’s jaw tightening by half a degree. Hinch’s smile was thin. “This is an engagement party, Mr. Scott. I’m sure there will be time to discuss business later. Call my office in a few weeks and we’ll schedule something, after we talk with Rick Chambers.”
Aaron didn’t take the hint. “Just saying…it’d be great to explore how we align Templeton’s future with the firm’s strengths.”
“Of course,” Hinch said smoothly, already turning toward Alexis. “Ms. Blackwell, would you be so kind as to check on the calendar when we get back in the office on Monday?”
“Of course,” Alexis said, tone calm, clipped. Her gaze, however, flicked once, across the small gap to Nicole, and she felt it deep in her bones. Aaron didn’t notice. He was still selling himself.
Nicole excused them with a polite smile, and Alexis let her eyes linger half a beat too long before turning away. Aaron moved them toward the Templeton board cluster. Rick Chambers stood with a drink, leaning on one elbow, and Elizabeth in full social regalia beside him, her smile fixed like porcelain. “Rick,” Aaron said, tone warm, “Congratulations again. Nicole and I were just saying how Tucson could use more events like this. Elegant, meaningful.”
Rick gave a thin smile. “Depends on who’s footing the bill.”
Nicole tilted her head. “The Templeton family always pays for their events.” Rick’s eyes flicked between them, calculating. Aaron’s hand tightened slightly at her back, subtle warning, but she stayed composed.
Elizabeth cut in smoothly. “Let’s keep the business talk out of this, darling. It’s a celebration.” Nicole’s tone softened just enough to be dangerous. “Of course it is.” Aaron laughed, loud enough to smooth it over, and order was restored.
They continued the loop, clients, old family friends. Each smile another deflection, each handshake a test of restraint. Through it all, Aaron looked every bit the attentive fiancé. And Nicole played her part perfectly. But under the surface, she was already calculating the next phase.
When the basic rounds were completed, Aaron peeled off toward a table of “associates,” men whose suits looked expensive but whose eyes were filled with pure calculation. He leaned in, smiling, gesturing, already talking like he owned the room.
Nicole didn’t follow.
She took a slow breath and let her gaze sweep the courtyard. Years of habit, scanning, cataloging, placing. Elizabeth stood near the fountain, head bent toward Rick Chambers, both framed by the glow of the soft patio lighting. Maggie and Joan still held court by the terrace rail. The Scott family remained near the koi pond, Rose still marble-perfect beside James. Tessa and the others laughed near the champagne bar, Alexis in the center of them, composed, but her eyes flicking toward Nicole for half a heartbeat before sliding away.
That’s when she saw Cam again, off to the far edge of the courtyard, just beyond the main arch. Shadowed, alert. She looked like she belonged and didn’t, all at once. The only one who wasn’t pretending. Nicole adjusted her grip on the champagne flute, set it on a passing tray, and started moving.
Each step was deliberate. Heels striking against the stone, a measured rhythm under the noise of polite conversation. Cam met Nicole’s eyes and subtly glanced toward the main entrance. A flicker. A signal. Nicole didn’t break stride. She closed the distance until they stood nearly shoulder to shoulder.
“Is it happening?” she asked quietly. Cam’s reply was equally low. “They’re ready. Timing’s clean.”
Nicole looked past her, toward the arch. “Good.” Then she turned slightly, scanning the terrace one last time, every piece on the board in its place.
Nicole looked at Cam, memory hitting her unexpectedly. “Come with me.” Together they walked across the courtyard to Joan, still standing by the rail. If tonight was a cut, she wanted these two to see each other before the blade dropped.
“Cam, this is Joan. My therapist.”
Joan offered her hand, dry as ever. “I’ve heard… complicated things.”
“I’m sure,” Cam smirked. “And FYI…I’ve already got a therapist. But good to know Nicole’s is still standing.” Nicole looked between them. Somehow, the world felt more level with both of them standing here today. She nodded once, an almost invisible thanks, and turned back toward the gathering.
Nicole took one last scan of the room. Everything was in position. Then Aaron appeared again, cutting through the crowd with that easy, camera-ready smile. He slipped an arm around her waist. “There you are,” he murmured, charm dialed up to full wattage. “Come on, they’re about to call us.”
His hand guided her toward the central courtyard, where the staff had cleared space around the microphone stand and stage. She let him steer her, every inch of it part of the performance.
Elizabeth raised her glass, voice perfectly amplified. “My friends, thank you for joining us on this very special day for our family.”
Polite applause rippled across the courtyard.
“And now,” Elizabeth continued, “a few words from the man who’s managed to win both Nicole’s heart and her mother’s trust…Aaron Scott.”
More applause. Cameras flashed.
Aaron stepped forward, taking the mic with practiced humility. He struck a relaxed pose, chin dipped just enough.
“I never thought I’d be standing here,” he began, smiling as though the words had just come to him. “I met Nicole years ago…some of you know this…and I waited. I waited a long time. She was focused. Fierce. Way out of my league. But I waited anyway.”
Chuckles moved through the crowd.
“And eventually… she let me in. And I realized I hadn’t just fallen for the smartest woman I’d ever met, also but the bravest.”
Nicole kept her expression still, but something flickered beneath it. The word brave landed wrong. Too polished, too patronizing. Brave wasn’t what he meant. He meant manageable.
“She’s sacrificed more than most people ever will. She’s led a company, a legacy, and stood taller than any man I’ve ever known…including me.” He paused for effect, then grinned. “If her father were here, I like to think he’d be proud. Not just of what she’s built. But who she’s chosen.”
Nicole didn’t react, but her fingers tightened slightly around her champagne flute. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alexis turn, slow, sharp, jaw set. That one line had hit more than one nerve.
Aaron wasn’t done. “And now, with Nicole stepping away from the company, we’re finally going to have the time to take a real honeymoon and start on our family.”
The words slid through the courtyard like a blade wrapped in velvet. Polite applause followed, and the sound died down. Nicole stood for a moment, then moved toward him. She kissed him on the cheek so light it barely registered and took the mic that he handed her with a smile.
“Thank you, honey,” she said sweetly.
The crowd reacted as expected. Cameras clicked, conversation floating in the air as she stood there. Beneath it all, in that moment, Nicole felt the room shifting around her like the air right before lightning finds its mark.
She turned to the crowd. “I want to thank you all for being here today, and for the support you’ve shown, especially in the time since my father’s unexpected passing. Your love and care have meant everything to my wonderful mother…and to me.”
Behind her, the screen began playing the curated montage for the event, pictures of dinners, board meetings, red carpets. A fairytale in sequence.
Nicole lifted her glass again. Her tone warmed. “My mother always said Aaron was there when others weren’t. That he stayed. That he showed up. And she wasn’t wrong. He was there. When I didn’t know who I was. When everything cracked and shifted. He was steady. The right man.”
She let the phrase hang, deliberate. There was a subtle shift after that; a flicker across Mitchell’s face, the corner of Alexis’s mouth tensing slightly. The girls went still. Cam’s gaze narrowed. From across the lawn, Maddie’s head tilted, eyes sharp with interest.
“…The one who stayed.”
She sipped her champagne and paused again for effect.
“You learn a lot about someone when you spend that kind of time together. Not just who they are when things are good, but who they are when no one’s watching.”
A few faces shifted. Maggie’s brow rose slightly. Nicole smiled again syrupy and warm. “I put this together because wanted to show you what I mean.”
Then the cut came. No sound, no preamble, just the shift. Abrupt. Surgical.
The images shifted. A bedroom. Aaron, unmistakably mid-act, his face half-turned toward the camera in lazy satisfaction. Another. Aaron seated in the back of a luxury car, head tipped back while a woman between his legs adjusted her lipstick.
Aaron’s smile held, then stuttered like a bad edit.
A murmur rippled through the crowd. No one breathed.
Then came more, more pictures and video. Powder and rolled bills, Aaron in a wash of nightclub red lighting. And the unmistakable blur of Aaron, leaning in toward someone’s neck, eyes wild and jaw twitching.
Mitchell crossed his arms, jaw tight. Charles just sipped his drink. James didn’t move, but his expression cracked. Rose looked away from the screen as Sam let out a soft whistle and muttered, “Damn,”. Suzanne stood frozen beside him, unreadable. Only Harry seemed unsurprised. He nodded, once, like he’d expected the rot to rise eventually.
“Holy shit,” Brie muttered, just loud enough for Tessa to elbow her.
Then… nothing.
The screen went black.
No one moved. No one breathed. The silence stretched, long enough to birth questions. Was that it? What now? A buzz sparked at the edges. Phones lit up. A server coughed.
Nicole didn’t retreat. Her grip on the glass held steady, but her throat tightened around a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. For a half-second, the world fell inward…soundless, still, suspended like the hush before impact. Her pulse didn’t race. She’d burned through the panic hours ago. All that was left was the stillness after a clean cut. The ache would come later. Not now.
She raised her glass. Her voice was steady, carrying across the courtyard.
“Just to be clear for this room, I didn’t step down. I walked away. Because I won’t live inside anyone’s lie. Not in this company, not in my own home.”
The silence fractured, just slightly. Cam was the first to react. A slow smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, proud and dangerous, and then she hid it behind the rim of her glass. Maggie exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for hours. Joan didn’t move, but there was something like satisfaction behind her eyes.
Alexis stood frozen near the bar, sapphire against the glow of the courtyard lights. Shock first, then something else; admiration, maybe even awe. It was like she hadn’t expected Nicole to cut this deep, or this clean.
Nicole let it all register. The confusion, the fear, the flickers of respect, and turned back to Aaron. His face had gone the color of old concrete, and his eyes darted around the room trying to calculate an exit that didn’t exist.
Nicole reached down. Pulled the ring off in one motion. No ceremony. No hesitation.
She held it out.
He didn’t take it immediately. She waited.
When his hand finally opened, she dropped it into his palm without touching him.
Nicole met his eyes. Her voice dropped, low and flat.
“No vuelvas a hablar de mi papá, ¿me oíste? Si lo haces, me encargo yo.” (Don’t talk about my father again, you hear me? If you do, I’ll handle it myself.)
She didn’t care if anyone understood it. It wasn’t for them. It was for him. For Robert.
The murmurs continued, gaining volume. It was the sound of the room recalibrating.
Nicole had already moved off the stage, to the edge of the courtyard where the stone met shadow. She didn’t look back at Aaron. Elizabeth’s voice caught the mic, trying to smooth things out the best she could. “Nicole has always had a flair for the dramatic.” She looked around the room and locked eyes with James Scott. “These milestones move us in ways we don’t always expect.”
A careful laugh moved through the nearest cluster.
Nicole didn’t listen to the rest. She was already scanning. Cam was exactly where she’d left her. Edge of the arch. Eyes directly her. Cam straightened subtly, eyes flicking once more toward the entrance. Neither of them had been sure of the timing, but Nicole felt the shift a second before it came.
Then the doors swung wide. Riley Burke stepped in first, tall, no-nonsense, already scanning the crowd. Her gaze caught Cam’s for half a breath before she raised the badge.
“Aaron Scott.”
For a second, no one moved. An agent approached Aaron and turned him around. Someone screamed. Riley didn’t flinch. “Aaron Scott, you’re under arrest for federal wire fraud, embezzlement, and obstruction.” Her tone was level, unshakable. The kind of voice that left no room for bargaining.
Everyone stared, and Aaron’s voice broke through, smooth, but desperate, still trying to sell control. “Hold on…there’s been a mistake.” He forced a laugh that didn’t make it past his throat. “This is ridiculous. Nicole…tell them. You know this is insane.”
At his table, the people he had brought with him began to rise slowly, then one by one, they started slipping away, phones already in hand, ties loosened, guilt evaporating into the night.
Aaron kept talking anyway. “This is some kind of setup. You…” he gestured toward Riley, “…you can’t just walk in here like…” But the words broke under their own weight. The charm was gone; the room had already decided.
Elizabeth stood frozen near the fountain. For a heartbeat, she looked carved from marble. Then something flickered behind her eyes. Not panic. Calculation. Her glass trembled once before she set it down, perfectly, on the nearest table.
The murmur of the crowd swelled, people with their phones out, whispers building. Aaron tried again, voice cracking this time. “Nicole…say something.”
She didn’t.
Nicole looked at the crowd. The desert sun had dropped lower now, stretching long shadows across the courtyard, cooler air sliding in too late to matter.
Riley Burke scanned the crowd once more. Her gaze caught Nicole’s for the briefest second, then shifted to Cam. A small nod. Silent coordination.
Charles stepped forward, grabbing the mic from the stand. “Well,” he said dryly, “that was unexpected. But we’re all dressed. There’s food. There’s champagne.” A few nervous laughs scattered through the crowd. The venue planner hit a switch; the music shifted to something with a heavy beat, bright and reckless.
Nicole lifted her glass. “So…lets drink up people!”
And just like that, the lie was over.