Chapter 10
Life fell into a comfortable routine in the Astor mansion- I spent my nights in Harrison’s suite and mornings in his Range Rover to Mount Sinal. Keeping busy made the breakup surprisingly bearable.
Harrison was like watching the Ice King defrost in real time. He not only developed basic human emotions but even started watching YouTube cooking tutorials much to Mrs. Watson’s existential dread about her job security.
The biggest victim was Dr. Parker, stuck sharing an office with the newly reformed Harrison. With the notorious workaholic suddenly clocking out at normal hours, Parker was left drowning in paperwork, his receding hairline marking the passage of time like tree rings.
“Who is this pod person and what has he done with my emotionally constipated brother?” Sloane
wondered aloud.
Though if you asked me, he still had his… peculiarities.
Like how he’d do his nightly rounds – checking on me with his practiced attending physician voice: “How’s the patient adjusting? Sleep schedule normalized?”
When I nodded, he immediately posted to Instagram:
[She’s finally comfortable in my bed ?] Complete with an artfully framed shot of my cashmere wrap draped over his Restoration Hardware headboard.
The comments section went nuclear – by the time I checked, it was just:
[Comment removed by user]
[Comment removed by user]
“Dr. Astor,” I stared at him, “still working on that ‘approachable‘ image?”
Meticulously sectioning an orange with surgical precision, he replied with perfect deadpan: “No, this
was purely for chaos.”
The chaos arrived at dawn, in the form of Sage prowling the grounds like a failed cat burglar, desperate to identify the mystery woman in Harrison’s posts.
Her timing couldn’t have been worse. Sloane, who typically didn’t acknowledge mornings existed before 11 AM, had chosen this day for an unprecedented dawn patrol.
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The Ice Prince’s Love Prescription: I’m Your Remedy to Forget Your Ex
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Chapter 10
Their eyes met across the manicured lawn, and Sloane’s smile turned feral
“Breaking and entering? How desperate.”
She’d been itching for this confrontation since the bachelor party, Only the family’s reputation had kept her from going full Jersey Shore at the restaurant.
Rolling up her silk pajama sleeves, Sloane bellowed, “SECURITY BREACH!”
What followed was pure Upper East Side chaos. Mrs. Watson, emerging in her robe and wielding a Dyson like a quarterstaff, joined the melee with unexpected enthusiasm.
As Sage’s shrieks reached soprano territory, Mrs. Watson hesitated.
“Perhaps we’re being excessive?”
“Can’t make an omelet without breaking some Botox,” Sloane quipped. “Mrs. Watson, your quinoa might be questionable, but your combat skills need work too!”
Stung by the reminder of her culinary limitations, Mrs. Watson channeled her inner MMA fighter.
When the security team finally arrived, it took three men to restrain Mrs. Watson, while Sage – looking like she’d lost a fight with a Peloton – could barely summon the breath to call her lawyer.
