Chapter 1 #2
But the woman acted oblivious. She turned, scanning the decorations, her gaze skimming over my carefully arranged white roses.
She laughed lightly. "Damian, look—the estate's just as beautiful as before.
Though these flowers look a little tired.
Remember? We used to love having tea by that fountain. "
My slow brain finally kicked into gear. I tried to catch Damian's eye, desperate to understand. What was he doing, bringing home a woman—this woman—in front of everyone?
But he didn't look at me. He looked down at her with a tenderness I'd never seen. "I remember."
I almost dropped the cake. Was this my husband? Why did they look more like a couple than we did? No. No. Damian loved me. This had to be a misunderstanding. I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and forced the smile to stay. "Damian, who is this?"
He finally turned to me. "Cecilia and I grew up together. She just got back to the States."
Not a relative. A close friend. Nothing could be worse.
"Nice to meet you." I barely got the greeting out. She just smiled and nodded.
Damian turned to the guests and inclined his head slightly. "Sorry, everyone. Got held up on the way back. I didn't know my wife had planned all this. Please, make yourselves comfortable."
A few people laughed awkwardly, trying to ease the tension. But the stares on me felt like knives.
Then he looked at me again, voice lowered slightly. "We ate on the way. Not hungry now. Also, Cecilia's staying here for a while. Have Mrs. Mackenzie prepare the east-facing guest room. She has trouble sleeping."
His words slammed into my chest like a hammer. I almost lost control of my tears.
In front of everyone, my lawful husband brought another woman home and told me she'd be living here. Without asking. Without warning.
"And," Damian's gaze finally landed on the cake in my hands. His frown deepened. "Get rid of those cakes. Cecilia's allergic to cream. The smell makes her dizzy."
He didn't wait for my answer. He offered his hand to Cecilia, guiding her protectively by the waist, past me, through the guests with their complicated expressions, toward the stairs.
"Thanks for everything, Ivy." Cecilia turned before heading upstairs and flashed me a sweet, victorious smile.
They went upstairs. The hall sank into suffocating silence.
I stood there, fingers digging into the champagne silk of my skirt. Humiliation crushed me. I could barely breathe. I even started to doubt whether this man was the Damian I loved.
But seconds later, I pulled myself together, forced another smile, and invited everyone to sit.
"Ivy..." After I'd settled everyone, Mark walked over with concern. He handed me a glass of water, looking at my pale face, and sighed. "You okay? Damian was way out of line today."
"I'm fine, Mark." I lifted my chin, refusing to cry in front of a friend. "Just enjoy yourselves."
Mark shook his head, expression serious. "Ivy, you need to watch out. Cecilia... she's not simple. She's Damian's legendary ex who disappeared the night before their engagement party."
My hand froze while clearing a dish. I'd always known Damian had an ex he'd loved deeply. But she went abroad before I joined his company, so we'd never met.
Now she was back.
Today. On Damian's birthday. She was back.
Was she here to take my husband? I'd heard coworkers mention their epic romance. Damian had scrubbed every trace of it from the internet—proof of how much it meant to him.
Helplessness washed over me. I couldn't be sure what would happen to our life now that Cecilia was back.
"Thanks, Mark." I suppressed the tremor in my voice. "I know."
Mark opened his mouth, then closed it. He patted my shoulder silently and left. I sat alone in the corner, trying to calm the panic rising inside me.
The dinner ended in a bizarre, oppressive atmosphere.
With both hosts absent, the guests lost interest. They finished eating quickly and left one by one. But before they did, they all looked at me with pity. A few elegant older ladies even pulled me aside to whisper advice about protecting marital assets from being transferred out.
I knew they'd misunderstood because of the scene earlier. I kept explaining—Damian wasn't like that.
Finally, after seeing the last guest out, the luxurious, lively estate fell silent again. The long table was littered with dirty dishes. The air that had smelled of fresh roses now reeked of alcohol and cold food.
I sat alone in the corner of the banquet hall. In front of me sat the enormous dark chocolate cake.
The candles had burned out, leaving small pools of hardened wax.
"Ma'am, should we... clear this away?" a servant asked carefully.
I snapped out of it, waved them off silently, and headed upstairs. I just needed to see Damian.
Light blazed from the second-floor study. I walked toward it, drawn by instinct. Through the half-open door, I saw Damian at his desk. Cecilia perched on the edge, talking. She laughed—light, flirtatious—and reached over to steal fruit from his plate with a fork.
The sight stabbed deep. Because I'd never had that.
In two years of marriage, Damian had never let me enter his study while he worked. Never let me sit on his desk. Never shared his food.
I sucked in a breath—jealous, hurt—and pushed the heavy oak door wide open. Damian was responsible. He loved me. I just needed a reasonable explanation.
The laughter stopped.
Damian leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.
Cecilia held a file, half-leaning against the desk. When she saw me, she tilted her head innocently. "Oh, Ivy. Is the guest room ready? Sorry, Damian's helping me review some contracts. Lost track of time."
The frustration boiling inside me made me ignore her. I stared at Damian, my voice trembling with accusation. "Damian, I need to talk. Alone."
Damian opened his eyes. His brow furrowed instantly. He looked at me, a flash of impatience crossing his face.
"Cecilia, go rest. The bedroom next door." His voice was low.
"All right." Cecilia stood obediently. As she passed me, she glanced down, smug.
The study was just the two of us now.
"What do you want to talk about?" Damian rubbed his brow. "I'm exhausted, Ivy. Meetings all day. Now I've got to deal with Cecilia's legal mess tonight."
"Who is she?" I stepped forward, hands braced on his desk, tears finally spilling over.
He looked up, voice calm—almost cruel. "I told you. Cecilia and I grew up together."
"Just friends?" My voice shot up. "Then why was she holding your arm when you came in? Why is she moving into our estate? Damian, I'm your wife—"
"Enough, Ivy."
Damian slammed the file on the desk and stood.
"I'm not fighting with you tonight. Cecilia's dealing with serious financial and security issues in Paris. She needs somewhere safe. Wentworth Estate has the best security. It's just a favor."
He started gathering files as he spoke.
"You're too emotional tonight. I've got international calls to handle. I'll sleep in the study lounge." He grabbed his bag and shot me a cold look. "Grow up, Ivy. When we got married, you should've understood what being Mrs. Wentworth means. Don't test my patience with pointless jealousy."
He turned, strode into the study's inner lounge, and slammed the door in my face.
The enormous study was empty now. Just me.
I slid down the side of the desk, letting despair swallow me whole. Why had Damian become like this?