Chapter 77 RENEWED BLISS.
\~~~SERENA.
I stood there at the edge of the ballroom, clutching my champagne flute like it was a lifeline. The room was alive with chatter and laughter, the kind of polished noise that filled high-society events like this one but my eyes were locked on Damien across the room, talking to that woman with the sharp smile and knowing eyes.
I wasn't supposed to feel anything. Not this much, in fact. Damien and I had our rules, our messes, but jealousy?
That was for people who had something solid to lose. We'd built our marriage on shaky ground but as I watched her smile at him, her hand gesturing lightly as she spoke, a hot wave of anger crashed over me.
Angry doesn't even cover it. I was infuriatingly jealous. My chest tightened, like someone had wrapped a band around it and pulled hard. Why her? Why now? The gala was meant to be a night of celebration for the Hale Foundation, Damien's world of charity and influence.
I'd come because he wanted me by his side, looking the part in this blue gown that hugged my curves just right.
But seeing them together, heads bent close, made me feel small, and exposed.
And then she did it. She reached out, her fingers brushing his tie, adjusting it with a casual intimacy that screamed history. My blood boiled, God.
The glass in my hand trembled, the bubbles in the champagne fizzing up like my rising fury.
Who did she think she was?
Touching him like that, in front of everyone, and in front of me. I gripped the edge of a nearby high-top table, my nails digging into the white cloth covering it. The fabric bunched under my fingers, but I barely noticed.
That's when it hit me. It was right that I'd suspected she knew me from the start. In class, her questions had felt too personal, and too probing, like she was peeling back layers I didn't want exposed. She had known me, not personally, but she knew me through Damien.
That much was clear now, from the way they spoke, the subtle tension in his posture. He wasn't relaxed with her as his shoulders were squared, and his jaw set. But still, that tie adjustment? It was a claim, and a reminder of something I wasn't part of.
What was their relationship? My mind raced, piecing together fragments. How had they known each other? Friends? The kind who shared late-night talks and inside jokes? Business partners? Damien's foundation had ties to legal circles, maybe she was some advisor or donor.
Or... had they dated in the past? The thought made my stomach churn. There was no history of Damien in a relationship, not that I'd ever heard. No exes mentioned in whispers, no old flames popping up in his perfectly curated life.
He'd always been the lone wolf, the man who controlled everything from afar.
They didn't even act like ex-lovers withered. No lingering touches beyond that tie, or no soft glances.
Just that formal edge, like two people who respected each other but kept walls up. Friends, then.
I convinced myself of it, repeating the word in my head like a mantra.
They were just friends. Old colleagues, maybe. Nothing more.
But even as I thought it, doubt gnawed at me. Damien had secrets and I'd learned that the hard way.
I was seething in anger, the heat spreading from my chest to my face. My cheeks burned, and I realized I hadn't taken a breath in too long.
My focus stayed on Damien, on her. She laughed at something he said, a short, melodic sound that carried over the music. He didn't laugh back, his expression was guarded, but that only made me angrier. Why was he even talking to her?
Why not just walk away?
I didn't realize I'd been scratching the table with my finger until I looked down. The cloth had a small tear now, a thin line where my nail had dug in repeatedly.
Great. Just great. I was unraveling in public, like some jealous wife from a bad soap opera.
But I couldn't stop.
Every second they stood there felt like a betrayal, even if it was irrational.
“You have jealousy plastered across your face.”
The voice snapped me out of it, unfamiliar and laced with amusement. I raised my head slowly, blinking to focus.
Oh, God. As if the day couldn’t get any worse.
Standing there, settling into the chair beside me with a graceful sway, was Lisa. Ryan’s wife. Her belly had grown even bigger since the last time I'd seen her, protruding under the flowing fabric of her emerald ball gown.
It couldn't hide it well, the dress draped over it like a tent, but she carried herself with that smug confidence, like pregnancy was just another accessory.
My eyes dropped to her stomach first, a reflex I couldn't control, then I rolled them hard, hoping she didn't notice.
Or maybe I wanted her to. Lisa smiled, all teeth and false sweetness, as she adjusted her seat. “I bet they are just acquaintances,” she added, nodding toward Damien and the woman.
Was I wrong to wish I could slap the innocent pregnant woman?
The thought flashed through my mind, dark and unbidden.
Lisa, with her perfect life now tied to Ryan, sat before me, glowing in her maternity, while I simmered in doubt.
Slapping her wouldn't solve anything, but damn, it felt tempting at that moment.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” I grumbled, waving my hand at the man approaching with a tray of drinks. He nodded, offering a fresh flute of champagne. I took it without looking, needing something to cool the fire inside.
“My husband didn’t want to come alone, so he asked that I come with him. He didn’t even mind that I didn't look so sexy anymore due to my pregnancy,” Lisa laughed loudly, the sound grating against the soft quartet music in the background.
I turned my head gently, rolled my eyes again, and snorted.
As if I asked her all of that. Ryan dragging her here like a date? It made sense, he always needed an audience for his charm.
But hearing her talk about it, so casually, twisted the knife.
My own marriage felt under siege tonight.
“Good for you,” I forced a smile, tight and insincere, then sipped the drink. The champagne hit my tongue crisp, and bubbly but it tasted quite different from the one I'd just had.
Sweeter, maybe? Or was that the anger clouding my senses? I shrugged my shoulders, pushing the thought aside.
I had bigger problems.
“How is marriage coming along for you? Must be so sweet, given the fact that you’re newlyweds.” Lisa's eyes sparkled with curiosity, but there was an edge to it, like she was fishing for dirt.
“Right,” I mumbled through gritted teeth, the word barely audible. Sweet? If she only knew the passion mixed with paranoia, and the way Damien's touch could soothe and ignite in the same breath.
“I can only imagine. My marriage with Ryan was sweet during the early stages, but guess what?” Lisa laughed again, covering her mouth with manicured fingers, as if sharing a delightful secret.
I watched her with pure disgust, my stomach turning. Oh, God, forgive me.
She went on, oblivious. “It’s as if we’re newlyweds. Guess staying apart for a few years after marriage is not as bad. He treats me like I own his entire world now,” she laughed, patting her belly fondly.
The words landed like punches. Staying apart? Ryan's infidelity, the years he'd wasted with me before her. And now, she gloated about their renewed bliss. My grip tightened on the glass. “Oh, please, Lisa, I don’t have any interest in your story,” I hissed, the words sharp as I chugged down the drink in one go. The liquid burned going down, hotter than it should, spreading warmth through my chest and limbs.
But why does it burn? Why do I suddenly feel so hot? My skin prickled, a flush creeping up my neck. Had I taken another drink with a different alcoholic content? Champagne wasn't supposed to hit like this. I picked up the existing glass I’d just had, the empty one from before and sniffed it. Nothing unusual, just the faint scent of fizz and fruit. But my head swam a little, the room tilting ever so slightly.
“Is something wrong?” Lisa asked, her brow furrowing in mock concern.
“I think I am getting drunk,” I hiccuped, the sound surprising me. A small burp followed, embarrassing in its suddenness.
“Drunk? On two glasses of champagne?” Lisa chuckled, rising from her chair with a hand on her lower back. “It is the same content, you’re probably tense because your husband is not here, but here he comes,” she said, smiling even wider as she turned away, her gown swishing.
Just then, Damien arrived. His presence was like a shadow falling over me tall, and commanding with his tuxedo fitting him perfectly. He curled his arm around my waist, pulling me close with that familiar possessiveness.
The touch sent a spark through me, but mixed with the heat already building inside.
“Moonlight.” His voice was low, and sweet .
“Bastard,” I hissed, despite myself, the word slipping out on a breath. I leaned into him anyway, my body betraying the anger still simmering.
Why do I feel so hot and drunk all of a sudden? The question echoed in my mind as the room spun gently, the lights blurring at the edges. Damien's hand tightened on my waist, steadying me, but his eyes searched mine with concern.
What had just happened? And why did everything feel like it was about to unravel even more?