Chapter 13
The orchestra swelled–strings like silk unraveling. Each note spilled across the marble like wine. People turned, one by one, as if the room itself knew it needed to hold its breath.
That was my cue.
I walked in slow, every step a sentence. The slit in my gown flirted with danger, the hem whispering secrets to the floor. My heels echoed–measured, precise, threatening. Not too fast. Queens don’t rush. They arrive.
My perfume–dark amber and venom–left a trail behind me. Expensive, rare, just like my patience. Just like my rage. Lucien leaned down, voice low at my ear, almost amused.
“Your ex just saw you.”
He paused. “His eyes narrowed. Like a dog recognizing the hand that stopped feeding it.”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. I watched.
And there it was–the moment Edmund’s gaze landed on me. His face tried to stay still, but his brain slipped. There was a twitch. Right there, in the jaw. Confusion. Hesitation. Then denial. That was my favorite part–when men start rewriting reality just to soothe themselves.
Elizabeth leaned forward, squinting through her fake lashes. She leaned into Loisa, whispering like a hyena with bad botox.
“I heard the heir’s supposed to be forty–something. That woman’s got a body like a goddess on her third divorce. No way that’s her. Must’ve paid millions in surgeries to look that young.”
I didn’t even give her the satisfaction of turning. But inside?I was laughing so hard I almost cracked a rib.
Darling, no surgeon on Earth can buy posture like mine. You have to survive things to earn it. Loisa’s wineglass trembled. Lester stood there like someone took a piss in his champagne. He was staring like he’d just seen a ghost he used to yell at.
I kept walking. Past them. Through them. Above them.
Because tonight? I wasn’t the help. I was the storm.
Lucien guided me to the front row. I sat beside him like I was born there. The kind of seat that’s not given–it’s taken. My father, Angelo, hadn’t arrived yet, but my brothers Matteo and Enzo were already here–nods exchanged, silent loyalty confirmed.
The room around us buzzed, murmured, like static in silk.
I moved through the crowd like smoke in a cathedral–slow, dangerous, untouchable.
A crystal wine glass dangled lazily from my fingers. Dark red. A perfect match to my nails. The crowd parted like they knew better, though the whispers came louder now, more daring.
“She’s too poised. No one walks like that unless they’ve been trained.”
“No–look at the way Lucien Falco trails her. That’s possession. Argg! I want a Lucion Falco, too.”
“Dream on, bitch.”
They talked like I couldn’t hear them.
Chapter 12
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5:18 am DDDD.
But darling, I never stopped listening.
I was just about to take a sip when she appeared–Elizabeth, swathed in pale gold like a chandelier on clearance. Her eyes wide, fake surprised, lips twisted in a smile that didn’t touch
her teeth.
She bumped me.
Deliberately.
My wine glass tilted just enough to bleed red onto my wrist. My Venetian mask slipped, caught air for a second, then clinked against the marble like a tiny bell of war.
Gasps bloomed like weeds in the room.
Elizabeth clutched her pearls–how convenient.
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” she crooned. Like saccharine in poison.
I stared at the mask on the floor. Then back at her.
Didn’t flinch. Didn’t pick it up.
I didn’t need it anymore.
She froze. Her eyes locked on mine: There it was–that slow recognition crawling into her brain like mold.
“Doris?” she whispered. Pale as ash. “Oh my god. It is you.”
I tilted my head, smirking like a blade unsheathed.
“Who’s that?”
Casual. Cool. Cruel.
Elizabeth stepped closer. Her hand latched onto my wrist, tighter than a “lady” should dare.
“Don’t play games with me,” she hissed. “I know it’s you. Even looking like… that,“–she wave her hand up and down like I was some cursed mirror-“you can’t hide from me! Huh, I still don’t forget how you killed my two dogs, you damn whore.”
I didn’t yank away. I let her clutch me like a drowning woman does a stone.
“You always had that little bitch smirk,” she spat, voice rising.. “What? You thought you could rur off, disappear into some auction house harem and no one would notice?”
People were turning now.
Whispers? Full blown murmurs.
“I thought she’s the Rossini Heiress, it turns out not.”
“Yeah… turns out to be just another mistress.”
Elizabeth’s voice went shrill. “You’re nothing but a polished whore. You think you’re above me now? Because you’ve got pearls and a waist again?”
I smiled at her. Not the kind that soothes. The kind that ruins.
“Funny,” I said quietly, “I thought you were done talking when your face started melting.”
That’s when he appeared.
“DORIS.” His voice was low. Sharp. Like a rusted blade dragged over gravel.
Happy Divorce My Hushandi
5:18 am DDDD
Edmund. Storming through the crowd like he still thought he mattered.
He grabbed my arm.
Lucien stepped in like death on silk, hand shooting out mid–air and catching Edmund’s wrist.
“Touch her again,” Lucien said, voice silk–wrapped steel, “and I will file charges. You don’t own
her.”
The room hushed. Even the violins paused.
Edmund’s face contorted. “You left me for this man?” he sneered, venom in every syllable. “You threw away our marriage for some boy in a tailored suit?”
I took a slow sip of wine before I answered. Then:
“So what if I did?” I said it with my chin high. Said it like it was a blessing. “You’re not my problem anymore.”
That’s when he raised his hand-
Not a full slap, not yet, but the wind–up.
Lucien was faster. Again.
This time, the grip was rougher. Dangerous.
“Try again,” Lucien said, eyes narrowing, “and I promise, you won’t leave here with your reputation intact.”
