CHAPTER 27
Her phone rang just as she was once again trying to convince herself not to spiral. Everything passes. Even this. She reached for it without looking at the screen.
“Yeah?”
“Nina, hi!” Stella’s voice was bright as always, as if she’d never had a single problem in her life. “Where have you been? We were starting to lose you!”
“I kind of dropped out of life for a bit,” she admitted, sitting up on the bed and pushing her hair back. “But I’m alive. These past few weeks have been… rough.”
“Oh, I get it,” Stella softened. “But I’ve got great news. We’ve got a big event coming up!”
“What kind?”
“A charity gala,” she announced cheerfully. “For the kids’ fund—we’re raising donations, you know how it goes. There’ll be lots of people, sponsors, partners, journalists…”
Nina heard Stella saying something to someone in the background before returning to her:
“You’ll be there, right? You’ve supported that children’s center for years.”
Nina hesitated.
Before… she’d never have missed something like that. Charity events had been part of her life. And now? She’d withdrawn from everything, shut herself off, faded out of her old world.
But she couldn’t show that. She needed to show she was fine. That she’d handled it. Because in this city there were far too many people who must not see her broken.
“Of course I’ll be there,” she said firmly.
“Perfect!” Stella beamed. “It’s going to be a gorgeous night.”
They hung up. Nina set the phone on the nightstand. A deep breath.
A charity gala.
Well… time to return to her old life. Wasn’t that exactly what Nolan had told her?
The event was only a day away. Turned out the invitation had been sent last week, but she hadn’t seen it.
She booked a salon appointment for hair and makeup. She needed to look flawless—but effortless.
After lunch she drove to the boutiques. The outfit had to be perfect. She settled on a pantsuit—sharp but elegant. Crisp white fabric, nipped at the waist, the pants fitting her body perfectly. Yes. That was the one.
She caught a small smile in the fitting room mirror. Stress had made her lose a little weight; now she looked strikingly lean. Even the boutique consultant who’d known her for years commented on it.
“It suits you, Nina,” she said warmly. “You look stunning.”
Nina accepted the compliment with restraint, but inside she straightened.
Yes, she looked stunning.
And tomorrow, everyone would see it.
***
The moment she stepped inside, the entire room blurred into a single humming mass.
She inhaled and felt all the stares. Some curious. Some surprised. Some mocking. After everything that had happened, after the tabloids had printed their garbage about her, she couldn’t expect anything else. But she refused to react. Indifference was her best friend.
She took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, gripping the thin stem a little too tightly. She greeted familiar faces, exchanged a few pleasantries with politicians’ wives.
She noticed how people kept glancing at her right hand—where her wedding ring used to be. Everyone wanted the story straight from her mouth, but no one dared ask in a public setting.
She was still smiling when her eyes swept the room and then she froze. The glass never reached her lips. The air thickened in her lungs.
Frank was here. And beside him—Vivian.
Vivian walked with him naturally, her hand looped through his arm with casual confidence, as if she’d always belonged there.
She wore an incredible dress—flowing crimson, hugging every line of her figure. A diamond bracelet sparkled on her wrist with each movement.
She looked happy. And she didn’t hide it. She smiled brightly, boldly, confident to her bones.
She had taken everything.
The husband.
The status.
The wealth.
And showed it off without shame.
Nina felt sick. This glossy performance, this fake sweetness—after their lunch at the restaurant, they hadn’t met again. Vivian had gotten what she wanted—she didn’t need to pretend to be the supportive friend anymore.
Soft whispers rippled around Nina. Everyone waited to see what she’d do. How she’d react.
Because now, the wife and the girlfriend were in the same room.
But she simply took a sip of champagne and smiled as if she didn’t care. As if nothing tightened in her chest. As if she didn’t hate them more than anything.
She turned away and headed toward the buffet. When you don’t know what to do with your hands, keep them busy. She plucked a grape, washed it down with champagne she despised. Two sips were enough; that was her alcohol quota for the night.
She’d barely escaped the shock of seeing her husband with his lover when she spotted another familiar figure.
Jasper.
Oh perfect. Had they all conspired to drive her insane tonight?
Jasper stood on the far side of the room, partly in shadow, but she had no doubt—he was looking right at her.
What was he doing here?
Her stomach clenched, but she didn’t look away. They stared at each other. Jasper didn’t move. From this distance his expression was unreadable.
She hadn’t helped organize the gala this year and had nothing to do with the guest list—otherwise she’d have excluded at least three people from it. Had Stella set her up?
She swallowed sharply and turned away. But the moment she took a breath, things worsened.
Frank had noticed her too.
His gaze ran over her as if he couldn’t believe she was here—out in public instead of locked at home having a breakdown. Or better yet, already checked into a psych clinic to deal with another “episode.”
He left Vivian’s side and walked toward her.
She slowly raised the glass to her lips, wet them, let a beat of silence hang, and when he reached her, she looked him right in the eye.
“Didn’t expect me, Frank?” she said first.
She smiled, watching his jaw tighten just slightly. He hesitated, but before he could say anything, another voice jumped into the conversation.
“Frank, and here you said she was struggling with the divorce…”
She turned.
Rowan Blake — an old family friend they’d barely seen in the past six months.
“And look at her now,” he added with a slow shake of his head. “Did I finally get my chance to officially flirt with Nina?”
She smiled as if his compliments flattered her. But inside she understood perfectly well: Frank had already spread plenty of rumors among their circle.
“Rowan, good to see you,” she said gently. “I’m not that free yet—once I get the official divorce papers…” She laughed hoarsely and winked at him.
“You’re drunk,” Frank snapped, misreading her playful tone.
He stepped forward, reaching for her arm—almost certainly planning to drag her off somewhere. But she dodged smoothly, set her champagne flute on the table, and picked up another grape.
“I’m just happy, Frank. That’s what’s making me dizzy. Not the alcohol. You know very well I can’t stand the stuff.”
She caught Rowan smiling at her with open interest. He’d always been like that. He’d liked her years ago.
He’d flirted, but she’d never encouraged it. She’d been loyal to her husband.
And now everything was different.
Rowan sensed the shift, and he wasn’t planning to waste his opportunity. Frank saw it too—and for some reason, it irritated him.
“I told you you weren’t ready for social events,” Frank said at last. “Not after the treatment.”
She lifted an eyebrow. Smirked.
“I didn’t suffer a scratch in that accident; your doctor said so himself,” she countered, twisting his words to her advantage. She wouldn’t let him expose that she’d been locked in a psychiatric clinic.
Rowan laughed.
“Frank, you showed up with another woman, yet you’re clinging to Nina like you’re not planning to divorce her,” he teased. “If her admirers bother you this much, maybe your feelings aren’t gone after all. Don’t play games with a woman if you still haven’t decided who matters more.”
Nina noticed Frank’s fingers curl into a fist. Oh, he hated this conversation.
Rowan noticed too—and he was thrilled by it.
“You might wanna ease up,” Frank muttered.
“On what?” Rowan smirked. “On the fact your ex-wife is free to do whatever she wants now?”
Nina sighed, pretending she was bored, and shrugged.
“All right, boys, I’m done.”
She touched Rowan’s shoulder lightly and gave Frank a perfectly indifferent look.
“Rowan, thank you for supporting the fundraiser. It means a lot to the kids. Call me when you have time.”
And before Frank could say a single word, she turned and walked away with steady, deliberate confidence.