Chapter 28 Intimate Photos
Elodie's POV
A stack of photos slid out from inside and scattered across the carpet in front of me.
My breathing stopped instantly.
The people in the photos—I knew them all too well.
Every single one featured Nelson and Vivian.
There was one of them having a candlelit dinner at an upscale restaurant, with Vivian gazing at him affectionately while he cut her steak. Another showed them at the opera house entrance, him draping a coat over her shoulders in an intimate gesture. There was even one from some private cocktail party, with Vivian leaning completely against him, laughing her head off.
The angles were cleverly chosen—each photo captured the "intimate" atmosphere between them perfectly.
These photos hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving my heart twisted in knots.
He said they'd settled their accounts long ago. He said it was all an act.
But how could he explain these photos?
I grabbed my phone and dialed that number again.
Instead of the woman's voice, I heard the cold automated message. "Sorry, the number you have dialed is switched off."
Switched off.
All the strength drained from my body as I slumped onto the carpet, the scattered photos stabbing at my eyes.
I actually believed him. I actually wavered because of his few vague words of concern.
Elodie, you're such a hopeless fool.
"Miss Elodie, dinner is ready." Graham's voice came from outside the door.
"I'm not eating!" I shouted at the door, my chest feeling tight. Forget eating—I couldn't even swallow water.
Silence fell outside, then came the sound of Graham's sighing footsteps walking away.
I don't know how long I sat in that room. Darkness gradually fell outside until someone knocked gently on the door.
"Miss Elodie?" It was Rod's voice.
I ignored him.
The person outside was patient. He knocked again. "I bought that fruit cake you like, and some cherries. Want to try some?"
I still said nothing, just stared at the photos on the floor.
Rod stood outside for a while. "Miss Elodie, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick?"
His concern sounded incredibly ironic at that moment.
I suddenly stood up from the floor and yanked the door open.
Rod was holding cake and fruit. Seeing my red eyes and pale face, he was clearly stunned.
I said nothing, just bent down to pick up a few photos from the floor and threw them at his chest.
The photos floated lightly to the ground.
"This is what you meant by 'it's not what I think'?" I looked at him. "This is what you meant by 'the boss is handling important matters'? You all treat me like an idiot, don't you? Think it's fun?"
Rod looked down at the photos on the floor. His honest face showed a moment of shock.
"This... this can't be real!" He immediately denied it. "The boss would never get back together with her!"
"Can't be? Then what are these? Rod, how long are you going to keep lying to me?!"
My tears finally fell traitorously, blurring my vision.
I hated my weakness, and even more, I hated that bastard who told me to behave while getting tangled up with another woman.
"Miss Elodie, believe me, these photos must be fake, or there's some misunderstanding! The boss, he..."
"I don't want to hear it!" I covered my ears, not wanting to hear any more excuses. "I'll ask you one last time."
"Where exactly is Nelson?"
Rod looked at my determined eyes, his honest face full of panic and difficulty. His lips moved but no words came out.
His stammering was like a bucket of cold water, completely extinguishing the last bit of ridiculous hope in my heart.
I smiled bitterly and bent down to pick up the scattered photos one by one, as if gathering up my shattered trust.
I threw the stack of photos hard at Rod's chest. The papers scattered like black butterflies, silently mocking my stupidity.
"Enough. You don't need to act anymore. You're all the same."
"It's not like that, Miss Elodie!" Rod finally panicked. He pointed at the photos on the floor, his tone more firm than ever. "These photos are absolutely fake. Sir could never be with her!"
His certainty brought a tiny bit of calm to my wildly beating heart.
Half-believing, I crouched down and picked up a photo again.
It was the one of Vivian leaning against Nelson, laughing. Earlier, blinded by anger and heartache, I'd only seen the glaring intimacy. Now, calming down and examining it carefully under the light, I finally noticed something off.
Vivian's hand resting on Nelson's arm had an extremely subtle, unnatural blur around the edges—traces left by clumsy photo editing. And Nelson's eyes, though the photo was taken from a tricky angle, if you looked carefully, he wasn't looking at Vivian at all. His gaze was empty, radiating a coldness that kept people at a distance.
I picked up another one—them at the restaurant, him cutting her steak. But the hand holding the knife and fork, the watch on his wrist—in the reflection on the watch face, it wasn't Vivian's face at all, but a blur of dark colors belonging to the restaurant environment.
They were fake.
All the blood in my body rushed to my head.
Rod also noticed my expression change. He leaned over to look, then spotted the flaws too.
The next second, his honest face turned bright red. Clenching his fists, he started to rush out. "That damn woman! I'm going to settle this with her right now!"
"Stop!" I grabbed his arm hard.
He turned back, looking at me in confusion.
"What good would it do to find her now?" My mind became unusually clear in my extreme anger. "Vivian went to all this trouble to send these fake photos to me—is it just to drive a wedge between us?"
I looked at Rod, analyzing word by word. "She knows Nelson is on a business trip. She calculated that we can't reach him, so she dared to do this. She doesn't want me to give up on him—she wants to use me to control you, to throw you off balance!"