Chapter 101 You're Hiding Something
Bruce thought tonight would be a pleasant evening.
He'd imagined them sitting across from each other, trading stories, laughing at old memories from university—back when things felt simpler.
He'd hoped to see that familiar spark in Audrey's eyes, the one that used to be there whenever they spent time together.
But from the moment they sat down, he felt it.
Something was different.
Audrey was still Audrey.
Her smile was the same. Her voice still soft. The way she spoke still calm and controlled. But there was something distant about her now, like an invisible wall she'd built between them.
Bruce felt that distance. Still, he was grateful she'd agreed to come.
That was enough. For now.
"I need to use the restroom," Audrey excused herself.
Bruce nodded, watching her walk away until she disappeared around the corner. He exhaled slowly, long and heavy, then took a long drink from his glass.
Then her phone buzzed on the table.
Audrey's phone. The screen lit up with a name: Elliot Harrington.
Bruce stared at it as it vibrated. Jealousy and old emotions stirred in his chest.
When the call stopped, he felt brief relief. It lasted only seconds before it started again.
His jaw tightened. He could picture the man on the other end—waiting, probably growing anxious.
Just like Bruce had been for the past week, unable to reach her.
An idea flickered in his mind. Dangerous. He knew he'd be playing with fire.
But tonight, he wasn't thinking about consequences.
Calmly, he reached for the phone. A thin smile curved his lips as he swiped to answer.
"Hello, Mr. Harrington..."
Silence. Just as expected. Elliot was probably gripping his phone with white knuckles right now, face dark, ready to explode.
"You..." Elliot's voice was low, controlled rage. "What are you doing with my wife?"
Bruce's smile faltered. "Wife...?" He repeated the word without thinking. Panic and confusion flooded through him.
The word echoed in his head, spinning through his now-chaotic thoughts.
Since when? How?
He rubbed his face roughly, trying to piece together this new information.
The ring.
He'd noticed it earlier, circling her finger. But stupidly, he'd assumed it was just an accessory. A meaningless piece of jewelry.
It wasn't just a ring.
And what hurt more—Audrey hadn't told him.
"Cat got your tongue, Mr. Miller?" Elliot's voice came through, colder now. "Or should I come there and pick up my wife myself?"
Bruce clenched his jaw, pushing down the storm in his chest, trying to stay calm.
"She's in the restroom," he replied quietly.
A brief silence. Then Elliot's voice again. "Listen, Bruce. Don't ever think you still have a chance with her."
Bruce laughed bitterly. "Funny. Because she's still here with me, isn't she?"
"Don't you dare—"
Bruce ended the call and placed the phone back exactly where it was, just as Audrey returned.
She walked back lightly, unaware. Bruce watched her with emotions he couldn't name.
Anger? Disappointment? Heartbreak?
Audrey pulled out her chair, oblivious. "Sorry, that took a while."
Bruce forced a smile. "No problem."
He studied her face, searching for lies, searching for something that would explain why she'd never told him.
He tried to keep his voice light, despite the turmoil inside.
"So..." He traced the rim of his glass with his finger, pretending to be casual. "How's your family? Still living in the same place?"
Audrey had just reached for her drink. She froze. For a split second, her expression shifted—like something had made it hard to breathe.
Bruce caught it.
Her hand trembled slightly before she set the glass down. The smile faded.
"Audrey?" He said her name carefully.
She blinked rapidly, trying to hide her distress. She looked up with a thin smile, but it was too late.
"My family..." She swallowed. "We're not really in touch."
Bruce frowned. "Why?"
Again, silence. Her jaw tightened briefly, fighting to suppress something buried deep.
"I'd... rather not talk about it." Her voice shook, softer than before.
Bruce didn't respond immediately. He studied her face, searching for honesty beneath the short answer.
"You're still in touch with them, right?" he asked again, more carefully now. Maybe he'd chosen the wrong topic.
Audrey exhaled slowly, then shook her head. "No."
He thought she'd leave it there. Instead, he leaned back, watching her with a sad expression.
"You know?" He sighed. "The more I talk to you tonight, the more I realize I don't really know you anymore."
Audrey blinked, then forced a small laugh. "People change, Bruce."
"But you didn't just change." He shook his head slowly. "You're... hiding something."
She bit her lip, looking down. Her fingers intertwined tighter.
She knew Bruce wasn't stupid.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Bruce finally asked, unable to hold back any longer.
Audrey frowned. "Tell you what?"
He looked at her steadily. "That you're married."
Her eyes went wide. Shock was clear on her face before she quickly composed herself. "How do you know?"
Bruce watched every small movement. The way her breathing changed. The way her fingers instinctively touched the ring on her finger.
"Elliot told me." His voice held a trace of bitterness when he said the name.
Audrey's shock deepened.
"He called you—"
"You answered my phone?!" She was almost shouting now, furious at his audacity.
Bruce didn't flinch, even as her voice rose. His gaze stayed sharp, jaw tight, heart aching at her reaction.
"So you really married him," he muttered, more to himself.
Audrey closed her eyes briefly, trying to steady her breath. She hadn't expected this from Bruce.
"None of your business, Bruce." Her voice turned cold.
He laughed softly, shaking his head, looking at her with disappointment and bitterness.
"None of my business?" He repeated the words. "Audrey, I thought we were close enough that you'd at least... tell me something this important yourself."
Audrey's hands clenched under the table. "You don't get to demand explanations from me. My life isn't your concern anymore."
Bruce was silent, then sighed long. "Isn't it?"
They stared at each other—her gaze warning, his demanding.
Then a voice broke the silence.