Chapter Five

IRIS’S POV

My hand trembled slightly as I opened the bedroom door just a crack. 

Lucien stood there, holding a plate of food himself instead of sending one of the staff. The gesture felt far too intimate for someone who had been inside me just last night.

He didn’t wait for an invitation. 

He stepped into the room calmly, his massive build made the large bedroom suddenly feel smaller. 

I closed the door behind him, my heart skipped multiple beats as he placed the tray on the small table near the window.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” I whispered, crossing my arms over my chest.

Lucien looked around slowly, his eyes taking in the massive bed I shared with Ambrose, the anniversary flowers that still sat untouched on the dresser, and the scent of my husband’s cologne that still lingered in the air. 

“Why are you really back in New York, Lucien?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady.

He turned to face me, leaning against the table with that  calmness I was starting to recognize. “Family business and a few things that needed my personal attention. The empire has loose ends overseas that Ambrose can’t handle from behind his desk.”

His eyes kept drifting back to me instead of staying on the conversation. 

The way he looked at me made my skin heat up, remembering how those same eyes had watched me fall apart under him.

“You’re lying,” I said quietly. “There’s more to it.”

Lucien gave a small shrug, but his gaze stayed on me. Then his eyes moved to the vase of flowers Ambrose had supposedly sent me over the years. “Those are beautiful,” he said casually. 

Then he dropped the bomb. “But Ambrose never sent them. The books. The flowers. The handwritten notes. None of them came from him.”

I felt the floor shift beneath me. “What are you talking about?”

He looked away, almost like he regretted saying it. “Forget I mentioned it.” He changed the subject smoothly, asking about the penthouse instead, but the revelation kept ringing in my head. 

If Ambrose hadn’t sent those gifts… then who had?

The rest of the week passed in a painful chain of events. By the time the high-profile charity event arrived, I was already exhausted from pretending everything was fine.

The ballroom was filled with Manhattan’s elite. Cameras lights flashed constantly and Blair arrived publicly beside Ambrose this time, looking radiant in a Chanel gown that showed off her growing baby bump. 

She placed her hand on his arm possessively as they walked in, and the whispers started immediately.

I stood a few steps behind them, forcing a smile that felt like it was cracking my face. Reporters pushed forward with their ready microphones.

“Mr. Dupont, is it true Blair Adeline is carrying your child?”

“Mrs. Dupont, how do you feel about your husband’s mistress being pregnant?”

The humiliation felt like acid. I tried to stay composed, but my hands were shaking at my sides. Every flash of the camera felt like it was documenting my destruction.

Then Lucien stepped beside me quietly. His presence was solid and protective. 

He leaned down slightly, his voice was low enough for only me to hear. “Do you want to leave, Iris?”

The small act of protection hit me harder than it should have. I nodded once, unable to say anything and he guided me out through a side entrance, shielding me from the worst of the cameras.

Back at the penthouse that night, the storm finally came down.

Ambrose stormed into the living room the moment we returned, his eyes were full of  anger. “What the hell was that, Iris? You left the event early with Lucien? In front of everyone?”

I turned to face him, all the pain I had been holding finally coming apart. “You brought your pregnant mistress to a public event and expected me to stand there smiling while people asked me how I felt about it? You humiliated me, Ambrose! Publicly nd you still expect loyalty from me?”

His face was visible with anger. “You are still my wife, regardless of how you feel. This is about the family name and the company. You knew what you signed up for when you married me.”

“That’s all I am to you?” I shouted, letting tears stream down my face. “A name? A responsibility? I have given you three years of my life, and you treat me like I’m nothing while parading another woman around!”

Ambrose stepped closer, his voice was rising with his anger. “You don’t get to walk away with my brother and embarrass me in public, Iris. I won’t tolerate it.”

In the heat of the moment, he grabbed my wrist tightly and his grip was painful.

Before I could pull away, Lucien crossed the room quickly. He reached out and removed Ambrose’s hand from my wrist, his fingers stayed firmly planted on Ambrose's wrist.

Then he looked directly at his brother and said in a quiet voice, “Touch her like that again dear brother of mine and we’ll be have a very different conversation.”