Chapter 12 Chapter 12
Chapter 12
SELENE
The week leading up to the gala crawled by with excruciating slowness. Each day felt like a performance, making me feel exhausted by nightfall.
Derek and I moved through the house like ghosts haunting different planes of existence. We'd pass each other in hallways without making eye contact, eat breakfast in the same room without speaking, sleep in the same bed with a canyon of space between us. The silence wasn't peaceful—it was heavy, suffocating, filled with all the things we weren't saying.
I'd hidden the black card in my jewelry box, tucked beneath the velvet lining where no one would think to look. But I checked on it obsessively, sometimes three or four times a day, needing the physical proof that it was real. That the encounter with the mysterious stranger hadn't been a desperate hallucination born of my need to escape.
The embossed "D" gleamed up at me each time I lifted the velvet, solid and reassuring. Five hundred thousand dollars. Freedom. A future for me and my baby that didn't involve watching Derek pine for another woman while I slowly disappeared into the role of dutiful wife.
My morning sickness was getting worse. I'd wake each day around six, my stomach churning, and barely make it to the bathroom before retching. I'd learned to muffle the sounds, running the water to disguise any noise. Derek was usually already gone by then anyway, leaving for the gym or the office or wherever he went to avoid being home with me.
On Tuesday, I had another dress fitting. The seamstress had made the alterations to the midnight blue gown, taking it in slightly at the waist.
"You've lost weight, Mrs. Sterling," she observed, pinning the fabric. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Just stress," I lied, thinking about how the weight loss was actually from morning sickness, from the baby growing inside me that no one knew about. "Wedding planning for a friend."
She accepted the lie easily, as people always did when the explanation was mundane enough. We chatted about trivial things—the weather, upcoming holidays, her daughter's college applications—while she worked. Normal conversation, normal life, normal problems. I envied her that simplicity.
Wednesday brought a hair appointment. Derek's assistant had scheduled it without asking me, as she scheduled everything in my life. I sat in the salon chair for three hours while they colored and cut and styled, transforming me into the version of myself that looked best on Derek's arm.
"Such beautiful hair," the stylist gushed, running her fingers through the freshly colored strands. "Your husband is a lucky man."
I smiled and nodded, playing my part. "Thank you."
Lucky. As if luck had anything to do with our arranged marriage, with the obligation that bound us together. As if Derek felt fortunate to be saddled with a wife he'd never wanted.
That evening, Rosalie called. I was in the kitchen picking at a salad I had no appetite for when my phone rang, her name lighting up the screen.
"Selene, darling!" Her voice was bright with excitement. "Just five more days until the gala. I can hardly contain myself."
"I'm looking forward to it," I said, another lie in the growing collection.
"I've been thinking," Rosalie continued, her tone shifting to something more conspiratorial. "About what we discussed last time I visited. About grandchildren."
My stomach dropped. My hand moved instinctively to my abdomen, where the secret I couldn't share was growing day by day.
"Rosalie, I—"
"I know, I know, you want the timing to be right. But darling, you're not getting any younger. Neither is Derek. And I'd so love to see a little one running around before I'm too old to enjoy it."
The guilt was overwhelming. Here she was, expressing the exact wish I was carrying inside me, and I couldn't tell her. Couldn't share the joy of her first great-grandchild because I was planning to take that child and disappear from Derek's life.
"We're thinking about it," I managed to say. "These things take time."
"Of course, of course. I don't mean to pressure you. I just get so excited thinking about it." She paused. "You know, when your parents died and I took you in, I promised myself I'd see you happy. Settled. With a family of your own. It would mean everything to me to know that promise was fulfilled."
Tears burned in my eyes. "You've been wonderful to me, Rosalie. More than I could ever ask for."
"You're the granddaughter I never had, Selene. I love you dearly." Her voice grew softer. "Is everything alright? You sound tired."
"Just busy with preparations for the gala," I said, wiping at my eyes. "Making sure everything is perfect."
"You'll be the most beautiful woman there," Rosalie said warmly. "Derek won't be able to take his eyes off you."
If only that were true. If only Derek looked at me the way he looked at Jasmine, with that raw longing I'd witnessed at the cemetery. But I couldn't say that to his grandmother, couldn't shatter her illusions about our marriage.
We talked for a few more minutes before she let me go, reminding me to get plenty of rest before the big night. After we hung up, I sat in the silent kitchen, my untouched salad wilting in front of me, and cried.
Thursday brought another wave of morning sickness, worse than before. I knelt on the bathroom floor, retching into the toilet, my whole body shaking. When it finally passed, I caught sight of myself in the mirror—pale, drawn, dark circles under my eyes.
I looked like a ghost. Felt like one too.
I'd just managed to clean up and change when I heard Derek's voice downstairs. He was home early, which almost never happened. I descended the stairs carefully, one hand on the railing for support, my legs still weak from being sick.
He was in his study, on the phone, but he looked up as I passed the open door. Our eyes met for a brief moment before he looked away, continuing his conversation. But he gestured for me to wait.