CHAPTER 15
Lorraine didn’t plan to attend the Grand Meridian launch preview.
Then Marian Lang sent flowers.
The card was short.
Don’t let small people chase you out of rooms you understand better than they ever will.
Lorraine stood in her hotel suite staring at the flowers, then laughed because Marian had somehow made encouragement sound like a threat.
So she went.
Not for Aiden. Not for Brittany. Not for the social circle that had spent weeks deciding whether she was jealous, tragic, brave, foolish, or available.
She went because the Grand Meridian was part of her history too.
She had designed pieces of the preview before her marriage cracked open.
She had approved lighting, reviewed floral concepts, suggested the flow from lobby to ballroom, warned Aiden that the west entrance created a bottleneck if press arrived in clusters.
She had done good work there.
She refused to let Brittany Chase become the reason she stayed away from it.
Lorraine chose a black silk dress with long sleeves and a low back. Elegant. Unapologetic. Her wedding ring remained off her finger, tucked in the small jewelry case in her suite because wearing it would be dishonest and leaving it behind felt cruel. Instead, she wore diamond studs and no necklace.
Nothing at her throat.
No chain.
No symbol for anyone to study.
The Grand Meridian looked magnificent when she arrived. Aiden’s team had executed the preview beautifully. The lobby glowed with restored brass, fresh marble, and restrained florals that looked almost exactly like Lorraine’s original proposal before Brittany had written blush into the margins.
Aiden had removed the blush.
Lorraine noticed.
She hated that she noticed.
Guests turned when she entered. The turn was subtle.
Wealthy people pretended better than most. Still, she felt the attention move over her bare hand, her dress, her face.
A few women smiled too brightly. A few men looked away with the sudden seriousness of those who feared being pulled into marital wreckage by eye contact.
Claire reached her first.
“Mrs. Devereaux.”
“Claire.”
Claire’s expression softened with something close to apology. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m glad you came.”
Lorraine looked around the lobby. “So am I.”
She meant it more than she expected.
Then Aiden appeared at the top of the short marble steps leading from the mezzanine.
The room didn’t stop.
Lorraine did.
He wore a black suit, open-collared shirt, no tie. His hair was perfect. His face was not. He looked composed, yes, but the last weeks had changed the composition. There was something less polished about him now. Something rawer under the elegance.
His gaze found her and stayed.
He didn’t immediately come to her.
That mattered.
He finished speaking to the guest beside him, nodded once, then descended the steps slowly. No performance. No possessive stride. No public claim.
When he reached her, he kept a respectful distance.
“Lorraine.”
“Aiden.”
“I’m glad you came.”
“So I’ve heard.”
A faint smile touched his mouth, then vanished. “The room is better because of your original work.”
“You changed some things.”
“I changed them back.”
Her eyes flicked to the floral installation. White roses. Green branches. No blush.
“I noticed.”
“I hoped you would.”
That was dangerous, so she looked away.
Aiden followed her gaze but not her body. “I won’t crowd you tonight.”
“Thank you.”
“If anyone makes you uncomfortable, Claire knows to intervene.”
“I can handle uncomfortable.”
“I know.” His voice lowered. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t have to handle what should already be handled.”
Lorraine’s throat tightened.
Before she could answer, a flashbulb went off near the entrance. A small cluster of photographers had been permitted in for the first hour. Lorraine turned instinctively, and Aiden took half a step forward, then stopped himself before his body could become a shield she had not requested.
She saw the restraint.
Damn him, she saw everything now.
“I have to greet the mayor,” he said.
“Go.”
He nodded once and left her standing in the lobby.
Not abandoned.
Not claimed.
Allowed.
That might have been why Brittany chose her moment carefully.
Lorraine had moved into the side gallery, away from the densest crowd, to study the restored mural when she heard the voice behind her.
“You look calm.”
Lorraine closed her eyes for one brief second.
Then she turned.
Brittany Chase stood near the gallery entrance wearing pale silver, not champagne this time.
Her hair fell loose around her shoulders.
Her face looked thinner, her eyes larger, the fragility polished into something deliberate.
She should not have been there. Aiden had removed her from the relaunch.
Yet here she was, tucked inside the preview like a match waiting for dry paper.
Lorraine looked past her. No immediate staff. No Claire. No Aiden.
Of course.
“You’re not on the guest list,” Lorraine said.
Brittany’s smile trembled. “I was part of this project for months.”
“You were removed.”
“I was humiliated.”
Lorraine said nothing.
“That must have felt good,” Brittany continued. “Watching him turn on me for you.”
“I don’t enjoy watching women destroy themselves.”
Brittany’s expression tightened. “Careful. That almost sounded kind.”
“I didn’t intend it to.”
A flash of real anger cut through Brittany’s softness. Then the softness returned, sweeter and uglier for the effort.
“You know he’ll resent you eventually,” Brittany said. “Men like Aiden don’t like being made to crawl.”
Lorraine’s pulse stayed steady. She was almost surprised by that.
“I didn’t make him do anything.”
“No. You just left your ring where he could suffer over it.”
Lorraine tilted her head. “You seem very interested in my ring.”
“I’m interested in hypocrisy.” Brittany stepped closer. “You walk around like some wounded queen, but you’re enjoying this. The attention. The sympathy. Everett Lang looking at you like you’re something precious.”
Lorraine didn’t move.
Brittany’s eyes sharpened at the lack of reaction.
“Did you think no one noticed?” she asked. “You and Everett? The dinners? The gala? His hands all over your future while you pretend you’re too dignified to replace your husband?”
“There it is,” Lorraine said quietly.
“What?”
“The version of me you need to exist so you can survive what you did.”
Brittany laughed, but it cracked in the middle. “I did? You think I did this alone?”
“No.”
That stopped her.
Lorraine stepped closer, not enough to threaten, just enough to make the space honest.
“Aiden gave you access. He failed me. He humiliated me. He broke what was his to protect. I know exactly what he did.”
Brittany’s eyes brightened. “Then why are you here?”
“Because this room belongs to my work too.”
“No.” Brittany’s voice thinned. “You’re here because you want him to choose you in front of everyone. You want to win.”
Lorraine looked at her for a long moment. “Brittany, I was his wife. You were the one competing.”
The words found their mark.
Brittany’s face crumpled.
Too quickly.
Lorraine recognized the shift a heartbeat before the first tear fell.
“Oh my God,” Brittany whispered, louder now. “Why are you doing this?”
Lorraine’s body went cold.
People nearby turned.
Brittany took a step back, one hand pressed to her mouth. “I only came to apologize.”
Lorraine almost admired the commitment.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I know you hate me, but I didn’t deserve to be threatened.”
The same choreography. The same role offered. The same trap, reset in a prettier room.
Lorraine didn’t step forward. She didn’t defend. She didn’t say anything that could become ugly in someone else’s retelling.
She simply stood there and watched Brittany perform.
Footsteps approached quickly.
Aiden.
Brittany heard him and turned toward the sound with perfect timing, tears spilling down her face.
“Aiden,” she said, brokenly. “I shouldn’t have come. I just wanted to make peace, and she—”
Aiden didn’t look at her first.
He moved to Lorraine’s side.
Not in front of her. Not blocking her. Beside her.
Exactly beside her.
The gallery seemed to inhale.
Brittany faltered.
Aiden looked at Lorraine. “Are you all right?”
The question, asked first, nearly broke the scene apart.
Lorraine held his gaze. “Yes.”
Only then did he turn to Brittany.
His face was calm. Terribly calm.
“You are not supposed to be here.”
Brittany’s tears came harder. “I wanted to apologize.”
“No. You wanted another audience.”
Her mouth opened.
Aiden looked past her to the security director already approaching with Claire at his side. “Ms. Chase is to be escorted out.”
Brittany’s face went white. “Aiden, please.”
He didn’t move toward her.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said.
Aiden’s voice carried enough for the nearest guests to hear. “You are not a victim of my wife. You were not a victim at our anniversary party. You are not a victim tonight.”
A murmur moved through the gallery.
Brittany shook her head. “You’re saying that because she’s standing here.”
“I am saying it because I failed to say it when I should have.”
Lorraine’s breath caught.
Aiden continued, still facing Brittany, still standing beside Lorraine. “Lorraine is not jealous of you. She is not unstable. She is not cruel. She is my wife, and you used my weakness to disrespect her. I allowed that once. I will not allow it again.”
Brittany looked around, searching for sympathy.
This time, the room didn’t give it to her.
Security reached her gently. Brittany pulled back.
“This is humiliating,” she whispered.
Aiden’s expression didn’t change. “Yes.”
One word. No apology.
Claire guided the security team with ruthless politeness. Within moments, Brittany was being escorted through the side corridor, tears still falling, but the performance had lost its audience.
The gallery remained silent.
Aiden turned slightly, addressing the room without making a speech. “The preview continues in the main lobby. Thank you.”
It should not have worked.
It did.
Wealthy people loved nothing more than permission to pretend a scandal had not happened after witnessing enough to discuss for years.
The crowd moved.
Lorraine stayed where she was.
Aiden didn’t touch her.
He didn’t ask if he had done well.
He didn’t ask if she believed him now.
He only stood beside her while the room shifted away from them.
After a long moment, Lorraine said, “You moved to my side.”
His eyes closed briefly.
When he opened them, the pain in them was not hidden.
“I should have done that the first time.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
She looked toward the corridor where Brittany had disappeared. “That was the same scene.”
“I know.”
“Did Claire tell you she was here?”
“No. I saw her cross the gallery and knew.”
Lorraine turned back to him. “You knew?”
“I finally recognized the shape of it.”
There was no triumph in his voice. Only shame.
Lorraine nodded once.
Aiden looked at her bare hand, then away so quickly she almost missed it.
Almost.
“Do you want to leave?” he asked.
Lorraine looked around the gallery. At the mural. The lights. The guests pretending not to watch. The room where, for once, her husband had stood exactly where he promised.
“No,” she said. “I came to see the preview.”
Aiden’s mouth softened.
He stepped back and gestured toward the lobby. “Then see it.”
Lorraine walked ahead of him.
Not because she needed him behind her.
Because he had finally learned not to rush to the wrong woman’s side.