Chapter 33 THAT WOMAN WAS ME

Chapter 33 THAT WOMAN WAS ME
VERONICA POV

That woman was me.

I sat frozen on the dining chair, staring at the newspaper spread out in front of me. My own blurred face stared back — or rather, the burgundy dress I’d worn that day did. The photo was grainy, but that dress was unmistakable. My fingers tightened around the edges of the paper until the cheap newsprint started to crease.

What if someone recognizes me?

I slid the paper away like it was contaminated, then dropped my forehead onto my folded arms on the table. A low, frustrated groan escaped me. I rubbed my temples hard, trying to push back the headache already forming.

People like Xavier didn’t belong in my world. He was richer than God, and I was just… convenient. A single mother he could file away whenever he got bored. Falling for him would be catastrophic. I couldn’t even imagine the look on my children’s faces if he eventually turned them away. That pain? I can’t let it happen. Not ever.

The faint sound of approaching footsteps made me lift my head.

Natasha walked into the dining area, a soft hum slipping past her lips, her streaks of gray threaded through black hair pulled into her usual tight updo. She reached for the newspaper on the table, pencil already in hand, probably wanting to do the crossword like she did every morning.

She froze mid-stretch.

Her eyes widened as they landed on the front page. She froze for a second, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Is that Xavier?” she whispered, her voice muffled behind her palm. She leaned in closer, squinting at the photo. “Oh my goodness… it is Xavier.”

She pulled her hand away just enough to speak clearly, her tone sharp with disbelief. “How could he do this?”

Before I could say anything, she slammed the paper down in front of me, jabbing her finger at the photo. “He’s out there kissing some woman while you’re sitting here? How could he do this to us?”

I sat up slowly, one eyebrow arching at her outburst. Us? The entitlement in her tone almost made me laugh.

Internally, though, relief flooded through me like cool water. Natasha had been living under the same roof with me for years, and she still didn’t recognize me in that photo. If she couldn’t tell, chances were no one else would either.

I let out a shaky breath and gave a small, quiet chuckle.

Natasha misinterpreted it completely. “You think this is funny?” she snapped, eyes flashing. “That man — the father of your kids — is out there parading another woman, and you’re laughing? None of this would be happening if you had just opened up to him like I warned you to!”

“Ma’am,” I said calmly, pushing back my chair and standing, “he has free will.”

I picked up my empty glass and headed to the kitchen. The cool tile felt good under my bare feet. I turned on the tap, squeezed a little dish soap onto the sponge, and started scrubbing slowly, methodically, letting the repetitive motion steady my nerves. Rinse. Set it in the rack.

My phone rang from the dining table.

I wiped my wet hands on my pajama bottoms and glanced at the screen. 

Xavier.

I hesitated for half a second, then swiped to answer.

“Hello?”

“I’ll be there in half an hour to pick you up,” his deep voice came through, smooth and commanding. “Dress elegant. We have a meeting to attend.”

My brows pulled together. “You’re telling me this now? How do you expect me to get ready for a meeting I know nothing about in thirty minutes? What if someone asks me questions? I haven’t prepared—”

“Just get ready,” he cut in. “I’ll pick you up by eleven.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone, jaw tight. “What the hell…” I muttered under my breath. When was this miserable cycle going to end? I could barely spend quality time with my kids anymore. Meetings, appearances, obligations — it never stopped.

I groaned and headed upstairs.

When I opened the wardrobe, my stomach did a little flip. Rows of clothes I’d never seen before hung neatly inside — designer pieces, fabrics that looked like they cost more than my monthly rent back in the day.

Xavier’s men must have brought them in.

I ran my fingers lightly over the garments. They really were beautiful.

After a moment’s hesitation, I chose a long black maxi gown with a daring slit that ran high up one thigh. I slipped it on and stood in front of the full-length mirror, turning slowly. The fabric hugged my body in all the right places without being vulgar. Elegant. Powerful, even.

A small smile tugged at my lips. “I haven’t looked this good in forever,” I whispered, smoothing the material over my hips. “This baby right here definitely looks expensive.”

I added a delicate pearl necklace and matching earrings, then stepped into a pair of classic red-bottom heels that made my legs look endless. Xavier definitely had excellent taste.

When I stepped outside exactly twenty-eight minutes later, his sleek black car was already waiting at the curb.

Xavier climbed out of the back seat. His dark eyes dragged slowly down my body, pupils visibly dilating. A slow, smug smile curved his lips as he rounded the car and opened the door for me.

“Come on in, my pretty passenger princess.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Good morning,” I murmured, sliding into the cool leather seat and carefully adjusting the slit of my gown.

He leaned in and handed me a beautiful bouquet — soft pink roses mixed with delicate white lilies. “These are for you, amor.”

Warmth bloomed in my chest despite myself. I accepted the flowers, bringing them to my nose and inhaling deeply. “Aww, they’re so beautiful… and they smell amazing.”

“Not as beautiful as my queen,” he said smoothly. “Not even close.”

I rolled my eyes, but the corners of my mouth betrayed me with the tiniest twitch.

As the car pulled smoothly into traffic, I decided to address the elephant in the room.

“Did you see the paper this morning?”

Xavier gave a low, rumbling chuckle. “Of course I did. Terrible photo, though. They blurred your face. I wish everyone could see you.” His voice dropped. “They ruined my fun.”

I turned to him sharply. “What?”

“I want to claim you publicly,” he said, completely serious, eyes locked on mine with that unnerving intensity.

“That will never happen,” I hissed.

He only smiled, like my resistance amused him.

“Anyway,” I continued, changing the subject, “what exactly is this meeting about?”

“You’ll know soon enough, kitten.”

I didn’t bother replying. The rest of the ride passed in heavy silence. I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He was dressed in his usual black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, looking unfairly good. Every few minutes, his gaze flicked toward me, lingering a little too long.

When the car finally slowed and stopped, I looked up at the grand building in front of us — a luxurious, exclusive restaurant that screamed old money and privacy.

Xavier stepped out first, then offered me his hand. His palm was warm, steady.

“Come on.”

I took it and let him help me out. We walked inside together.

The moment we stepped into the main hall, I stopped short.

The lights were dimmed low, casting a soft, intimate glow. Every table was empty. The air carried a faint, sweet scent of fresh roses. No other guests. Just us.

“Wait…” I frowned, glancing around in confusion. “Where is everyone? Did we come too early?”

Xavier turned toward me slowly. A mysterious smile played on his lips as he looked down at me, something dangerously soft in his eyes.

“No, darling,” he said quietly, his voice low and intimate. “We’re right on time.”