Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Her Knight In Shining Armour

ISABELLA

For the first hour, it was everything I'd dreamed it would be. Max kept me by his side throughout introducing me to colleagues and their wives with pride. I found myself getting relaxed as the conversation was all about art, travel, and books. These were hobbies that I had once been interested in before everything went to hell.

"Your wife is delightful," Helen whispered to Max during a lull in conversation. "However did you keep her hidden all these years?"

Max's smile seemed forced around the edges. "Isabella prefers privacy," he said smoothly. "She's not one for the spotlight."

It wasn't true, but I didn't correct him. This was his world, and I was grateful simply to be included in it.

That's when I saw her.

Cassandra stood near the entrance, she was dressed in a crimson red gown that was tight on her and hugged every curve of her perfect figure. 

My stomach was filled with anxiety when I saw her, but Max's hand on mine was reassuring and grounding.

"Ignore her," he murmured. "Tonight is about us."

I tried to follow his advice, but my eyes kept following Cassandra's progress through the room. 

She seemed to be working her way toward us with deliberate intent, stopping to chat with various groups of people but always moving closer.

"Maxwell," her voice rang out behind us, sounding fake and sweet as she said. "There you are."

We turned, and I felt Max's entire body tense beside me. 

"Cassandra," Max replied coolly. "I thought you weren't coming tonight."

"Change of plans," she purred, her green eyes glancing dismissively over me before returning to him. "

"Some last-minute changes made me come.""

She moved closer, towards us as her eyes landed on me and she seemed amused by something.

"Isabella," she said, as if noticing me for the first time. "How... unexpected to see you here."

Before I could respond, one of the women in her entourage spoke up. "Cassandra, you didn't mention Maxwell was bringing his assistant tonight."

Assistant. The word hit like a slap.

"Oh, Isabella isn't an assistant," Cassandra replied shaking her head as she answered loudly. "She's our housekeeper. Quite devoted to the family."

Murmurs rippled through the group. I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation, but Max's hand tightened on mine.

"Isabella is my wife," he said firmly.

Cassandra's laugh was cruel and shattered my confidence in the ground. "Your wife? Oh Max, that's precious. Are we playing pretend tonight? Is this some kind of roleplay?"

The group around us was getting larger, drawn by the drama that seemed to be unfolding around us. I wanted to disappear, to sink through the marble floor and never come out again.

"I don't understand," said the woman who had asked if I was the assistant . "I thought you were married to Cassandra. Didn't you introduce her as your wife at the Meridian Group dinner last month?"

Max's face went pale. "That was a misunderstanding—"

"Was it?" Cassandra interrupted, pulling out her phone. "Because I have the photos right here. Us at the altar, exchanging vows just six months ago."

She turned the screen toward the gathering crowd, and I glimpsed images that made my blood turn to ice. Max in a tuxedo, Cassandra in white, surrounded by people I recognized as his family and business associates. All of them smiling, celebrating what appeared to be a wedding.

"That's not possible," I whispered, but even as I said it, doubt crept in. The images looked real. Recent. When had they gotten married without telling me? Was I no longer the legal wife of Max? How could he do this to me? Refuse a divorce and still marry someone else.

"Poor Isabella," Cassandra continued, her voice filled with false sympathy as she went on. "She's been with us for so long, caring for my children, that sometimes she gets confused about her place in the family."

"I don't understand," I said, my voice barely audible. "Max, tell them—"

But when I looked at my husband, the man who'd held me gently and gave me all this hope about changing for the better.

"Isabella has been experiencing some... difficulties," he said carefully, not looking at me as his hand slipped away from her as he stepped away. "Delusions. We've been trying to get her help."

The words shattered something inside me. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be real.

"Show them the other photos," someone called out.

Cassandra swiped through her phone and turned it again. This time I saw myself—on my knees scrubbing the toilet in what had been our master bathroom, cleaning windows, folding laundry. Pictures taken without my knowledge, showing everyone just how much I was a slave in my own marriage.

"Such a dedicated housekeeper," Cassandra sighed. "Though I'm afraid her mental health isn't what it seems anymore."

People were laughing when they heard this and all those who had gotten close to me earlier started backing away in pity, distancing themselves from me.

"This isn't real," I said, my voice rising with hysteria. "Max, please. Tell them the truth."

"The truth is that you work for us," he replied, his tone clinical and cold as he looked at me with renewed malice in his eyes.

"You have for years. If you're having trouble distinguishing reality from fantasy, perhaps we should have you checked in a mental hospital."

"Please," I whispered, reaching for Max's arm.

He stepped back as if my touch burned him. "I think you should leave, Isabella. Before you embarrass yourself further."

"But the dress—you gave me this dress—"

"That dress belongs to me," Cassandra interrupted smoothly. "I had it delivered by mistake. You had no right to wear it."

Security appeared as if summoned by telepathy, two large men in black suits who stood behind me as they held me.

"Come along, miss," one of them said, not unkindly. "Let's get you home."

"No," I said, desperation making my voice crack. "This is wrong. I am his wife. I've been his wife for eight years!"

The crowd watched the whole thing play out as I was having a public breakdown. Some filmed on their phones. Others whispered behind their hands. All of them looked at me with the same expression—pity mixed with uncomfortable amusement.

The security guards moved to take my arms, and I stumbled backward, tears blurring my vision.

"Don't touch her." A strange voice spoke loud enough to be heard amidst the boos that was following me. The security guards immediately stepped back, and the crowd parted immediately seeing him approach.

Through my tears, I saw him. He was tall and intimidating to look at as he was dressed in a tailored black suit. 

He had dark hair, blue eyes that seemed to see straight through pretense. I didn't recognize him, but everyone else clearly did. The sudden silence was deafening.