Chapter 22
Elise's POV
The woman in the mirror didn't quite look like me.
There was a faint ring of red around my eyes, my lips were slightly swollen, and a shallow bite mark lingered on my collarbone—mostly faded now, but still visible if you looked closely enough.
I lowered my gaze and inspected my dress.
The straps were adjusted properly, the neckline showed no obvious wrinkles, and the hem fell just below my knees.
But the left earring hung slightly lower than the right.
I took it off and clipped it back on.
Then I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face.
The icy droplets slid down my cheeks, washing away some of the flush.
I pulled out my compact from my purse and lightly dusted another layer of powder across my skin.
I reapplied my lipstick.
I fixed my hair.
I checked myself in the mirror one more time.
Clean. Presentable. Flawless.
At least to the untrained eye.
"You don't have to pretend in front of me."
Liam's voice came from behind me.
He leaned against the bathroom doorframe, hands tucked into his pockets, his shirt still unbuttoned at the top two buttons, his hair messier than I remembered it being earlier.
He was watching me.
His gaze carried a satiated quality—lazy and relaxed.
"I'm not pretending," I said without turning around, continuing to adjust my earring in the mirror.
"You're fixing flaws on your face that don't even exist," he said. "You already look fine."
I slipped the compact back into my purse and turned to face him.
His expression was relaxed.
The kind of relaxation that comes after doing something that satisfies you, the kind that loosens every muscle in your body.
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and his gray eyes held a trace of amusement. He radiated a confidence that felt uncomfortably self-assured.
Like a cat that had just finished eating a fish and was now lazily licking its paws.
"Let's go," I said.
"Mm."
He reached out and wrapped his arm around my waist—naturally, as if it were habit.
But tonight his hand carried more warmth than usual.
The warmth of possession.
As if everything that had just happened in the bathroom had given him some new, stronger sense of control over me.
As we walked out of the bathroom, a thin layer of sweat formed on my back.
People occasionally passed us in the hallway, their gazes lingering on me for a second.
I knew what they were looking at.
A man and woman emerging together from the women's restroom. It didn't require much imagination.
But no one said anything.
At events like this, far more outrageous things happened every day.
I followed Liam back to the main hall.
The atmosphere of the reception had shifted into its latter half.
Fewer people remained, but the laughter had grown louder, and the air was thick with the mingled scents of alcohol and perfume.
Liam led me through the crowd with steady steps—though he'd been drinking, he was nowhere near unsteady.
When we reached the bar, Marcus approached with a drink in hand.
"Liam! Where did you two disappear to? You've been gone for almost half an hour!"
"Took her out for some air," Liam replied casually. "It was too stuffy in here."
Marcus glanced at me, his gaze pausing on my face for two seconds.
Then he smiled and said nothing.
He probably guessed what had happened.
But his expression told me he didn't care.
Liam stayed by the bar, chatting with Marcus and the others.
His hand remained around my waist, never letting go.
Occasionally he would lean down and murmur something in my ear—"Are you thirsty?" "Want something to eat?" "If you're tired of standing, I'll find you a seat."
All trivial things.
But he never used to say them.
Or rather, he never used to say them in front of other people.
Tonight he seemed like a different person.
Relaxed, generous, even ostentatiously attentive.
As if he were showing off to everyone—
Look how well I treat my girlfriend.
She was just in the bathroom, and I'm the one who made her happy.
I knew this kind of "kindness" had an expiration date.
It stemmed from the satisfaction he'd just received and had nothing to do with affection.
The next time he needed to prove something to someone, this kindness would reappear.
But until then, he would return to being the cold, controlling Liam who treated me like a possession.
I leaned against the bar and drank a glass of sparkling water Liam handed me.
The cold liquid flowed into my stomach, slightly suppressing the churning sensation.
On the other side of the hall, someone was playing the piano.
The jazz melody drifted slowly through the air like an invisible thread, draping everyone's emotions in a soft veil.
I looked at Liam.
He was chatting with Marcus about something, occasionally bursting into laughter.
His profile looked handsome in the light—the high bridge of his nose, the slight upward curve of his mouth, his gray eyes reflecting the crystal chandelier overhead.
Handsome.
But that handsomeness was different from when Isabella was around.
With Isabella, his handsomeness carried a carefulness.
With me, his handsomeness carried an entitlement.
I knew where the difference lay.
The difference between caring about someone and not caring quite as much.
I lowered my eyes and looked at the sparkling water in my hand.
Droplets on the glass slowly slid downward like a trail of transparent tears.
---
Anna's POV
I saw it.
From the moment they came out, I saw it.
Elise walked ahead, Liam followed behind, his hand resting on her waist.
Elise's gait appeared normal—perhaps too normal.
Normal in a way that seemed like a deliberate performance of "nothing happened."
But I knew her too well.
Since childhood. We lived under the same roof. I watched her grow up. I knew how she walked when she was happy, when she was angry, when she was nervous.
Now her steps were slightly faster.
Just a fraction faster than usual.
And her left earring hung about two millimeters lower than her right.
If I hadn't been watching her all evening, I wouldn't have noticed.
But I was.
I saw it.
They emerged from the direction of the bathrooms.
The hallway was long, with the two restrooms separated by about twenty meters. They hadn't come from the men's room.
It was the women's restroom.
She had stayed in the women's restroom for nearly half an hour.
Liam had followed her in.
Half an hour later, the two of them came out together.
Elise's makeup was neat, her clothes showed no obvious wrinkles.
But her neckline—
If you looked carefully, there was a very faint, very shallow crease.
The kind of crease left when clothing is quickly pulled open and then hastily pulled back into place.
I tightened my grip on my wine glass.
The glass wall creaked slightly in my palm.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down.
My gaze swept across the reception, searching for Isabella.
She wasn't there.
She had already left.
I picked up my purse and walked out of the club entrance.
The night breeze carried a slight chill as it swept past me. Across the street in the parking area sat a row of cars.
My gaze scanned them and stopped on a dark gray Mercedes-Maybach.
The window was half open, and a woman sat in the driver's seat.
Her dark green dress glimmered dully in the dim interior light.
Isabella.
She sat alone in the car, phone in hand, seemingly waiting for someone or perhaps just lost in thought.
The night breeze blew through the window, lifting a few loose strands from her low chignon.
I stood at the club entrance, watching that car.
Then I set down my purse.
And walked toward her.