Chapter 19 Chapter 19

Chapter 19 Chapter 19
Chapter 19
SELENE
Her words about Jasmine were subtle but unmistakable.
"I wanted to honor your parents' sacrifice," Rosalie said, her voice thick with emotion. "They gave their lives to save Derek. Binding our families, ensuring you'd always have a home, a future, someone to care for you—it seemed like the right thing to do. Like I was fulfilling a sacred debt."
"You did," I said quickly. "You've been wonderful to me, Rosalie. You saved me when I had nothing."
"But I was wrong to force it," she said, and the admission shocked me. "I was wrong to arrange the marriage without considering what you both really wanted. What you needed. I thought I could engineer happiness, create love through proximity and obligation." She looked at me with such sadness. "Instead, I may have trapped you both in something that's making you miserable."
Tears were streaming down my face now, and I didn't bother trying to hide them. "It's not your fault. You were trying to help."
"Was I? Or was I trying to control things, to fix Derek's life the way I thought it should be fixed?" She reached across the space between us and took my hand. "Selene, I want you to know something. If you want to leave him, I won't stop you. You've fulfilled more than enough obligation to this family. You don't owe us your entire life, your happiness, your future."
The permission I'd been desperately seeking, given freely by the one person whose approval had mattered most. I should have felt relief. Instead, I felt terrified.
"But," Rosalie continued, and there was something different in her voice now—something almost warning. "Before you make any decisions, you need to understand that Derek is more complicated than you realize. There are things about our family, about what we are, that you don't know. Things that make leaving... difficult."
I stared at her, confusion mixing with growing unease. "What do you mean? What things?"
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, the door opened.
Derek stood in the doorway, his face tight with barely controlled anger. His eyes moved between Rosalie and me, and I saw something flash in them—fear, maybe, or concern about what his grandmother might have told me.
"Grandmother," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "They're asking for you. For the closing speech."
Rosalie stood gracefully, smoothing down her silver gown. But before she left, she touched my shoulder, her grip surprisingly firm. "Think carefully about what you want, dear. And be careful."
The words sent a chill down my spine. Careful of what? What was she warning me about?
She swept past Derek without another word, leaving us alone in the small sitting room. The door closed behind her with a soft click that sounded ominously final.
Derek turned to me, and the carefully maintained public face was gone, replaced by something raw and angry. "What did she say to you?"
I stood, refusing to let him tower over me. "Nothing that isn't true. That I've been unhappy. That you treat me like an obligation rather than a wife."
His jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle jumping. "You agreed to this marriage. You knew what it was from the beginning."
"I was nineteen years old, Derek." My voice rose despite my efforts to control it. "My parents had just died. I was grieving, terrified, completely alone in the world. Your grandmother offered me security, a home, a place to belong. What choice did I really have?"
For a moment—just a fleeting second—something that might have been guilt flickered across his face. His expression softened, his eyes holding mine with something almost like regret.
But then his phone buzzed in his pocket.
I watched as he pulled it out, saw the way his attention immediately shifted. Even without seeing the screen, I knew it was from Jasmine. I could tell by the way his whole demeanor changed, the way his anger at me evaporated into distraction.
"We should return to the gala," he said, his voice cold again, distant. He pocketed his phone without responding to the text. "Grandmother will expect us there for her speech."
He walked out without waiting to see if I'd follow. For a moment, I considered staying, hiding in this quiet room until the gala ended and I could slip away unnoticed. But that would only cause more problems, more questions.
So I followed him back through the corridors, back to the ballroom where the performance would continue. But as we walked, I noticed something I hadn't fully registered before.
The guests we passed didn't just acknowledge Derek with polite nods or friendly greetings. They watched him with a deference that seemed to go beyond respect for his wealth and status. Several people actually stepped aside as we approached, pressing themselves against the wall to give him room.
And their expressions—there was something in them that looked almost like fear.
I'd always known Derek was powerful in business circles, that the Sterling name carried weight. But this was different. This was the kind of reaction you'd have to someone dangerous, someone you didn't dare cross.
We reentered the ballroom, and I felt the shift in energy immediately. People noticed Derek's return, tracked his movement through the crowd. It was subtle—nothing that would seem strange to a casual observer—but once I'd noticed it, I couldn't unsee it.
A waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes was backing away from a table, not watching where he was going. He bumped directly into Derek, hard enough that Derek had to steady himself.
"I'm so sorry, sir," the waiter stammered, his face going pale. "I didn't see you, I wasn't—"
"It's fine," Derek said dismissively.
But I was watching the waiter's face, and I could have sworn—just for a split second—that his eyes flashed. Not reflected light from the chandeliers, but an actual flash of color. Amber-gold, bright and almost luminous.
The waiter bowed his head quickly, deeply, like someone offering submission to a superior. Then he scurried away, disappearing into the crowd with visible haste.