The woman without a last name fiddled with her wedding ring. The tan line on her finger had become subtly apparent as the diamonds grew in numbers. Michelle would add another rock every year as a reminder that he was tightening the clutch on Madhubala. Her struggle to get the ring off her flesh could count for self harm. She managed to break free of the shackles as the circle of slavery fell on the white tiles of her bathroom floor. She piled on bronzer like a makeup prodigy.
A vibrating cellular device caught her eye, Risahbh Kundra had texted her.
Look out your window, the message read. Camera flashes from fifty floors below blinded her vision. The paparazzi were camping outside her home. One had the audacity to enter her vegetable garden. She switched on the sprinkles in an effort to remove the human weed from her backyard.
I am coming for you, R.K. sent her another message.
How many times had she heard that line? She laughed at the misery of the hotshot Mumbaikar who did not have the slightest idea of who he was dealing with. Many a PR mavens came and went. Madhubala stood undefeated. She searched the archived memory files for the faded sketch of a proud man who dared enter her territory. Their first month of marriage when Michelle was actively trying to develop a bond with Madhu, he hired an established New Yorker to close his teenage wife. This Mukund Dixit had sought after her with game plans ranging from childish flirtation to paparazzi attacks similar to RK's doing. She had dissected his reputation until no one in the country recognized the name "Dixit Public Relations".
She vaguely remembered the headlines from three years ago. A string of candid shots with Madhu pleading to be left alone flooded the media market. The desperation in her voice, when she begged the cameramen to stop, had clicked with the audience. Petitions were filed to stop the tabloid frenzy. Madhu had forced Michelle to declare ceasefire. He accepted defeat on the front of gaining emotional intimacy and instead, focused on the physical for the remaining years of their alliance.
What was to be done with the new kid in town? She decided to let him struggle a little longer before she played her cards.
On the other side of town, a tenant in Chelsea was restless to find shelter in 100065. Why was she not responding to his texts? RK could not comprehend being ignored by the controversial trophy wife. Young bloods were out to battle, just not in the open. A few clicks and he had ordered R rated pictures of the billionaire's wife to be photoshoped and posted on the internet. He delivered her a final warning message before ordering his perverted employees waiting for his nod. Your nude figure will be on display on TMZ in five minutes.
A worry line appeared on her flawless face. Madhubala was accustomed the dirty politics , that was not a cause of concern. The issue was his timing. If the case went to trial, people would empathize with a cheating white male over an innocent brown woman victimized by the twisted minds on the internet. Race and gender biases were inherent in the elite like an unmentioned rule; being male and white gave one a free pass on a cheating scandal. Bill Clinton did it to Hilary, the country's womanizer army general was protected by the media for crying out loud. The society was numb to the disgusting acts of white bigotry. However, a different standard was in place for people from the holy land of India. Brown, and a woman at that, she has to be impeccable. We like 'em conservative and modest. Knee length dresses, legs covered in stockings and jet black hairs tucked behind the ears. The breasts that we all suckled on as infants, and some still do, should not be visible to the eye. A cheating husband should be forgiven with a hug and a therapy session or two. That, was a concise insight into the life of a politician's wife. Of course, being of colour meant additional duties such as displaying signs of religious conduct and meekness to white supremacy regardless of personal beliefs.
The five minutes had passed with her lost in thought. This was not the time to tend to her erupting volcano of anger. She had to take action but, chose not to. The man in Chelsea repeatedly turned his phone on and off. He would dial the men in his office and hang up before someone picked up. He was in a moral dilemma: to hurt or not to hurt. He had closed many a women like Madhu without fail but, Madhu would take a different approach. He would ensue the pitfall that takes them all down, LOV...sleep with her.
The madame on the top floor peeled a starving child from the fridge wall and talked to his hopeful eyes. I love you Nathan, she stuck the picture back on the wall. She hugged the smiling face of a beggar child, I will never leave you alone. A lightning bolt of fear passed down her spine. She would not, could not, shall not abandon the foreign children who had come to depend on her. She had to get rid of Rishabh Kundra and there was only one build in weakness that shut down such money-bots: LOV...seduction.
Cricket
