Chapter 76 WORST NIGHTMARE.
\~~~DAMIEN.
My eyes turned in the direction of the woman who had just complimented my wife.
The voice cut through the murmur of the crowd like a knife sharp, smooth, and laced with that old familiarity that made my skin crawl.
Even at the brink of death, I would recognize that voice. It had haunted my quieter moments for years, a ghost I thought I'd buried deep.
Serena stiffened beside me, her hand still tucked in the crook of my arm, but I forced my gaze to meet hers first.
No, not yet. I needed to steady myself.
The ballroom buzzed around us with chandeliers sparkling overhead, laughter from nearby groups, the clink of glasses and soft strains of the quartet. But in that instant, everything narrowed to her.
Our eyes met. Hers were sharp, green like emeralds under the lights, holding a smile that didn't reach the depths.
She smiled at me, just like she always did polite on the surface, but with that edge, and that knowing glint that promised trouble.
Oh, if only anyone knew what was going through her head beneath that smile. The manipulations, the games, and the way she could twist words into weapons. I'd seen it before, felt the scars it left. But here, in this glittering hall full of donors and dignitaries, she played the part of the elegant guest perfectly.
“Damien,” she said, her voice dipping just enough to make it personal.
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat like gravel. Serena's eyes flicked between us, curiosity sharpening her features. I couldn't let her see the storm brewing inside me. Not now, not when we'd just started to mend things after everything, “Gwen,” I said, keeping my tone even, neutral.
“Gwendolyn,” I repeated, the full name a barrier, a reminder.
Calling her Gwen was too informal, too close, and I hated that feeling, the pull of old habits, and the unwelcome warmth of shared history. It made my jaw clench.
I turned my head to look at Serena, who was watching us both with that mix of confusion and wariness I'd come to recognize. Her blue gown shimmered under the lights, making her look like a vision, but her eyes searched mine for answers. I forced a smile, the kind that said everything was fine, even as my pulse hammered. “My wife, Serena,” I introduced, my hand sliding protectively to her waist.
“Oh, we met,” Gwendolyn said smoothly, her gaze sliding back to Serena with feigned warmth.
“You…” I paused, breathing out slowly to steady the rush of memories arguments.
My mind raced. How? Why here? The Hale Foundation gala was my domain, and a night of calculated charm and philanthropy, not a stage for past demons.
“Moonlight,” I turned to Serena, dropping my hand on her shoulders, squeezing gently. The nickname slipped out, soft and intimate, a way to ground us both. “Why don’t you get a drink over there?” I nodded toward the bar across the room, where waiters circulated with trays of champagne.
“You must be kidding me,” she mouthed, her lips forming the words silently, eyes narrowing in that stubborn way that both frustrated and endeared me. But she turned away, her gown swishing as she walked, glancing back once before weaving through the crowd.
I watched her go for a second, ensuring she was out of earshot, then faced Gwendolyn again. “Gwendolyn Forbes,” I said, my voice dropping lower, edged with caution.
“Damien Hale,” she replied, mirroring my formality with a tilt of her head. Her red gown hugged her figure, diamonds catching the light at her neck, but it was her eyes that held the real weapon calculating, and amused.
“I didn’t know you were back in town.” The words came out clipped.
It has been so many years since she vanished into her career across the ocean. Why return now? The city had moved on, or so I'd thought.
“Well,” she shrugged, her shoulders elegant, dismissive. Then she turned her head, scanning the room until she found Serena, who was now at the bar, sipping a flute and stealing glances our way.
God, I’ve got a lot of explanation and persuasion to do. Serena's trust was fragile, rebuilt inch by inch after the last argument. One wrong move, and this woman could shatter it all.
“Your wife is beautiful,” Gwendolyn said, her tone almost appreciative, but I caught the undercurrent and the subtle probe, testing my reaction.
“What are you doing here, Gwendolyn?” I kept my voice low, stepping slightly to block the view from prying eyes. Around us, guests mingled laughing too loudly at a joke.
The foundation banners fluttered gently from the AC, reminders of the good we did and legal aid for the underserved, and scholarships for kids.
“What do you mean? I am invited. Does it not occur to you?” She raised an eyebrow, her smile unwavering, but her eyes challenged me.
“You get invited out of courtesy every year, and you don’t always honor them. Why now?” My mind flashed to the invitations sent annually, a polite nod to her status in legal circles, but never expecting her presence.
She'd built a life abroad, a very great one, in fact.
“Let’s say I am interested in you and your wife?” She laughed shortly, the sound light but laced with something darker, like velvet over steel.
“Gwendolyn, I swear…” I trailed off, glancing at Serena again. She was chatting with a waiter now, but her posture was tense, and aware. I needed to end this, pull her away, but Gwendolyn had always known how to hook in, and to draw out the conversation until it bled.
“And oh, she is a genius. She’s really on the right path. You should see how focused she is in the classroom.” Her words hung there, casual, but they hit like a punch.
“W… what are you saying?” My voice faltered, the stutter betraying me.
Classroom?
Serena's law school?
“Did she not tell you? I am a newly appointed professor for her department.” Gwendolyn's smile widened, triumphant, as if she'd waited years to drop this bomb.
The room spun for a second. Professor? To Serena?
How had I missed this? I'd been so focused on the foundation, on shielding Serena from Ryan's shadows and my own past, that I'd overlooked the one threat circling right under my nose.
Gwendolyn here, teaching Serena, and watching her every move was one thing that was not sitting well with me.
I swallowed hard, swallowing the lump in my throat that felt like it might choke me.
“What do you want, Gwendolyn?” The question came out rough, and direct, my hand itching to pull Serena close and leave.
“Who knows?” She closed the space between us, her fingers reached out and lightly touched my tie, adjusting it with practiced ease.
The touch was electric, and unwelcome, “Who knows what I want? Fun fact, I don’t know what I want either.”
Her eyes held mine, playful yet piercing, and in that moment, the weight of it all crashed down.
Perhaps the last person I was expecting to see was this woman.
Gwendolyn Forbes, my worst nightmare, and ex-wife.