Chapter 24
Emilia
We danced all night.
Damian had been with me the entire time and it felt so good to finally be seen by someone—and not just some random person but the man I was in love with, my husband.
The gala was held at the Archer Estate, a sprawling mansion turned event venue, complete with grand ballrooms, art-filled corridors, and beautifully manicured gardens. The main hall, where the gala was being held, was breathtaking. With it high ceilings and crystal chandeliers it looked like something out of a movie set. The marble floors gleamed, and the soft hum of conversation and laughter filled the air, punctuated by the clinking of champagne glasses.
I'd never been here before. I had not been invited to the Sunday family lunches because my parents and sister were still considered family, while I was not. I wasn't surprised. After all, the first time I officially met Marcela as her daughter-in-law, she'd asked me to sign an NDA, a post-nuptial agreement, and undated divorce papers.
But I refused to let that interfere with my mood.
These past months were the happiest of my life. Hands down. I couldn't stop smiling. My art was better than ever. Those who say good art comes from pain have no clue; because great art comes from joy. I was almost done with my contract at the museum and the director was ready to sign me up for another three months.
Damian kept saying I should stop working and just focus on painting so I could get my collection ready. I knew he wanted to help me take my work to galleries and people would listen to Damian Archer. I was uneasy. I knew how the game worked and networking was important in the art business. You had to know someone who knew someone to get your work in front of the right people. Damian knew everyone in the art world—from artists to gallery owners to insurance companies. In fact, he was one of the right people.
While Damian went to find a drink, I sat down at our table and looked at the beautifully dressed people mingling and having fun. Just as I was.
"Emilia," I heard my father's voice and kept a smile plastered on my face. No way was he going to make me feel bad tonight. This was the best day of my life. My husband had danced with me. He had told me I was beautiful and amazing. He had looked at me with, dare I say, love.
"Daddy," I acknowledged.
He sat next to me. "How are things?
My father was never in our lives—neither Bianca's nor mine. He was rooted in the construct that the mother raised the children. Maeve was close to Bianca. I had been a surprise baby—the one no one wanted. Until now!
"Good. And you?"
Daddy was a handsome man. He was now in his late fifties and looked just as imposing as he always had. Bianca had taken after our mother who was incredibly gorgeous. The three of them looked like they were a family—while I looked like the baby who had been swapped at the hospital.
"We need to talk," he began.
I wished Damian would get here and soon because I didn't want my father to ruin my evening.
"About?" I asked even though I knew.
"Your marriage."
"Right. Well, let me get Damian and we can talk." Since he's married to me.
"Why don't you come along with me—there's a living room where we can have some privacy."
I looked around and finally zeroed in on Damian, who was talking to Duncan with a glass of champagne in each hand.
"Emilia?"
"Yes."
I rose but opened the Chanel bag I had worn and texted Damian: Dad is taking me somewhere for a conversation.
I hoped that would be enough to get him moving.
Since my father rushed me, I was unable to see if Damian even got the message. I hated that I wanted him with me, hated that I had to do this at all. Why couldn't my parents love me?
I knew exactly how the conversation would go. They would accuse me of stealing Damian and insist that I return him to my sister, as if he were a toy and we were five years old.
My father led me into a beautifully appointed living room. The space screamed Archer elegance, with its rich mahogany furniture, plush velvet upholstery, and a grand fireplace with an ornate mantel. The walls were lined with carefully curated art. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the room.
Waiting for me were my mother, Maeve, my sister, Bianca, and my mother-in-law, Marcela. The air was thick with tension.
This was an ambush.
"Emilia, dear," my mother said, her tone deceptively sweet. "We need to have a serious conversation."
I forced a smile and sat down on the edge of a plush chair, feeling all eyes on me. "What is it?"
Marcela was the first to speak. "We’re concerned that Damian is not signing the divorce papers and is out with you in public. This is highly inappropriate."
"This is a conversation you need to have with Damian," I said firmly. "I already signed—"
"But he's living with you," Bianca snapped, "Are you having sex with my boyfriend, Emilia?"
"No, Bianca, I'm having sex with my husband."
I didn't expect it. I should've. Bianca slapped me.
I stood up abruptly, stunned, and held a hand to my cheek. "What is wrong with you? First, Mama hits me, and now you?"
Bianca charged at me, but Marcela stopped her by stepping in front of her. "Enough. Stop behaving like a child. Sit down, Bianca."
My father went to the other end of the room and poured himself a drink while my mother looked at me with disappointment.
"Who are you people?" I asked, looking around. "You're my parents…my sister. And…Marcela, you have a problem with your son, you talk to your son. I'm not his keeper."
Marcela had the decency to look guilty. "I'm sorry for how Bianca behaved."
"Why are you sorry? Why isn't she?" A few months ago, I would've run away like a little bitch, but I'd been growing a spine lately and it appeared that it was now solidly in place.
"I'm just perturbed that my son is still married to you," Marcela continued.
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. "That sounds like a you problem, Marcela."
"Show some respect, Emilia," my mother quaked. "This not how we raised you to behave."
"You raised me to behave like a doormat and I'm done with that." I looked around the room. "You ambushed me. I have never hurt any of you. I've been there for my family whenever you needed me and—"
"Stop with the drama," Bianca cut in. "You're not suited to be an Archer, Emilia. This isn't your world."
Anger bubbled up inside me, but I tried to keep my voice steady. "And what, pray, does it mean to be an Archer?"
"A killer instinct," Marcela said quietly. "You can't handle any of this. You cleaned up nicely for this gala but how long will you be able to pull it off, Emilia? The social pressure as Damian's wife will be intense."
"You mean like the gossip sites calling me a boyfriend-stealing whore?" I demanded.
Something flickered in Marcela's eyes. She had not expected me to be defiant. She remembered the woman who had signed whatever papers were put in front of her, while insisting she would take no money.
My father sighed, looking at me with a mixture of pity and frustration. "I still can't understand how you got him to marry you."
"I put a gun to his head," I mocked, furious.
Marcela sighed. "This is not leading anywhere constructive. Gideon, as I told you earlier, this was a bad idea. I suggest, as Emilia does, we talk to Damian."
"You're so selfish," Bianca cried out, tears glistening in her eyes. "I love him. He loves me. You're in our way. Damian’s future is at stake here, you know? He needs someone who can uphold the Archer name and that's not you."
My heart pounded in my chest. I had always felt like an outsider, but hearing it so bluntly wounded me anew. "That's Damian's decision to make."
Maeve leaned forward, her eyes cold. "And you know what his decision will be. He was going to annul that disgusting marriage right away but for the media attention."
Tears pricked at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "I understand your concerns. Take them up with Damian."
The room fell silent, and I could feel their disapproval weighing heavily on me.
I was about to leave when the door opened, and Damian walked in, his eyes locking onto mine immediately.
"Emilia," he said, his voice a lifeline in the oppressive atmosphere.
I gave him a tentative smile. "Your mother has something she wants to talk to you about."
Tate and Duncan followed Damian. They also calculated what was happening in the room. Tate looked at his wife who shook her head, as if saying, "Yeah, this is a clusterfuck."
Damian crossed the room and took my hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
"What the fuck is happening here?" Damian demanded.
"Something we should talk about in private as a family," Marcela said, looking pointedly at me.
Damian looked at me and kissed my forehead. He led me out of the room.
"Em, I'm going to take care of this, okay?"
I froze. He didn't think I was family? His mother had said they had to discuss this, our marriage, as a family and he was sending me away?
"Duncan," he called out to his brother who walked over to us. "Can you take Emilia home?"
"Of course." He gave me an avuncular smile, a comforting one that I never thought he was capable of. He put an arm around me. "Let's get you out of here."