02 If Only He Knew

Elena

Once inside the ballroom, I smoothed down my dress, pasted a smile onto my face that felt like cracked glass and navigated the sea of tuxedos and glittering diamonds.

My husband had vanished into thin air with his personal damsel in distress, leaving me to brave the paparazzi alone like a lone extra in a low-budget zombie movie.

I scanned the room with my eyes finally locking onto the exclusive VIP section near the stage. There sat Julian, looking completely at ease in his natural habitat, effortlessly working the room with his magnetic charm, surrounded by his old college buddies from Stanford.

And right beside him tucked safely into the chair like she belonged there was Bianca. She had miraculously recovered from her near-death panic attack just in time for the champagne toasts. Color had returned to her cheeks and she was currently laughing softly at who knows what.

I started toward them, weaving carefully through the crowd with my heels clicking in a steady rhythm against the floor.

“Oh, come on, Julian,” One of Julian’s friends, Brad laughed, raising his glass as I approached the edge of the table. “Admit it. Back in senior year, everyone and their mother bet you and Bianca would walk down the aisle together. You two were practically glued at the hip.”

“College is a lifetime ago, Brad,” Julian replied with an easy, disarming chuckle, though a faint and nostalgic smile touched the corners of his mouth.

“I’m serious, man,” chimed in Chloe from across the table, leaning forward with a bright and oblivious grin. “We were all genuinely shocked when you ended up marrying Elena instead. I mean, Elena is lovely really.. but you and Bianca… you guys just made sense. It’s wild how life works out, right? It’s like Elena’s the second choice after you couldn’t get the girl.”

My foot froze mid-step just inches behind Julian’s chair.

My lungs seized up and the champagne glass in Brad’s hand suddenly looked like a weapon aimed straight at my chest.

'Second choice.' The words tasted like ash on my tongue.

For three years I had convinced myself that Julian’s coldness was just grief and that his emotional absence was merely the cost of loving a man whose best friend had died but hearing his closest friends casually dissect my marriage like a failed stock investment shattered that fragile illusion into dust.

I looked at Julian’s profile but he didn’t defend me..! He didn’t clear his throat, shift uncomfortably or use any of his famous charm to remind them that I was his legally wedded wife sitting at home... or in this case, wandering the ballroom floor. Instead, he just took a slow sip of his champagne with his silence screaming louder than any words could.

Heat of shame rushed up my neck burning hot and furious as the polite quiet wife inside my head packed her bags and slammed the door.

“You’re right, Chloe,” I said with my voice cutting cleanly through the murmur of the table like a freshly sharpened knife.

Every head snapped around. Brad choked on his champagne, coughing loudly into a napkin while Chloe’s eyes widened in sheer horror.

Julian’s head jerked back with his dark eyes locking onto mine with sudden razor-sharp irritation.

“Elena.”

“I mean, it truly is tragic,” I continued, stepping around the chair and sliding gracefully into the empty seat next to my husband with my tone dripping with sweet and sarcastic syrup. “Think about how exhausting it must be to spend your entire adult life mourning your husband while completely relying on another woman’s husband to tie your shoes and hold your hand. Honestly Bianca, at this point maybe we should start charging you rent for taking up so much space in our marriage.”

Bianca’s breath hitched and her lower lip began to tremble on cue with giant movie-star tears pooling instantly in her big, dark eyes.

“I… I didn’t mean…” she stammered, shrinking back against Julian’s shoulder like a frightened kitten cornered by a alley cat. “Julian, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’m just ruining everything like always.”

The table fell into a dead silence. You could hear a pin drop across the entire fifty-thousand-square-foot ballroom.

I waited for Julian to look at me.. I waited for him to realize how humiliating this was for his wife.. how cruel his friends’ comments had been and how deeply my heart was bleeding right there in front of half the Fortune 500 executives in the city.

Instead, Julian slammed his glass down onto the table so hard the crystal cracked.

“That is enough, Elena,” he hissed with his voice dropping into a low and venomous register that made the blood run cold in my veins. The charismatic veneer he wore for the crowd had vanished entirely.

I blinked, caught completely off guard by the sheer fury blazing in his eyes.

“Julian, excuse me? Your friends were sitting here openly discussing how you...”

“I said ‘enough’,” he interrupted with his words sharp enough to draw blood as he stood up abruptly, towering over me in front of the entire VIP table with his jaw clenched so tightly a muscle ticked furiously in his cheek. “Do you have zero shame? Making a scene like a jealous child in the middle of a corporate gala. Bianca is going through the hardest week of her life and you sit there attacking her just to feed your own insecure ego.”

My breath caught in my throat and the words vanished entirely, leaving behind a hollow emptiness.

“Julian,” I whispered with the sound barely audible over the distant hum of the orchestra. “They were laughing at me. At ‘us’.”

“You are embarrassing me,” he snapped back with his eyes flashing with contempt. “Fix your face, Elena. Go powder your nose and learn how to act like a supportive spouse for once in your life, because right now, you’re acting intolerable.”

Without waiting for an answer, Julian turned his back on me and bent down, offering his arm to a softly weeping Bianca, murmuring gentle and soothing reassurances as he led her away from the table, leaving me sitting alone amidst the wreckage of my dignity.

The whispers started around the table, low and malicious as I stared down at my trembling hands resting in my lap with the clutch hiding the little plastic stick that held two blue lines.

A bitter and painful sarcastic laugh built up in my chest, fighting hard against the burning tears stinging my eyes.

'Supportive spouse.'

If only he knew…!

I slipped back through the crowded ballroom, desperate to escape the suffocating walls of the venue. A sudden thunderstorm had descended upon the city while we were inside, lashing heavy rain against the towering glass windows of the estate.

I made my way to the private valet stand at the rear entrance, clutching my coat tightly around my shoulders as the freezing wind cut through the fabric. I handed my ticket to the attendant anxious to sink into the heated leather seats of the car and flee the nightmare of the evening.

However, the attendant returned several minutes later with an apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling,” he murmured, refusing to meet my eyes. “Mr. Julian explicitly reassigned your specific vehicle and driver to transport Madam Bianca home. He cited that the widow’s fragile nerves could not handle waiting in the queue.”

The realization that Julian had literally left his pregnant wife stranded in a severe storm to ensure the comfort of another woman snapped the final thread of my endurance. The valet offered to call a standard taxi, gently warning me that the wait time could exceed two hours due to the weather conditions and the remote location of the estate.

Refusing to stand shivering in the doorway where Julian or his mother might discover me, I made the dangerous decision to walk down the long, winding driveway toward the main road to hail a passing cab myself.

The torrential rain instantly soaked through my elegant gown and heavy coat, the freezing water chilling me to the very bone.

Every single step was agonizing in my heels, but I forced myself forward, wrapping my arms protectively around my stomach to shield my unborn baby from the biting cold…

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