Chapter Two

IRIS’S POV

“Happy anniversary, Mrs. Dupont.”

Her words felt like poison to my ears. I stood frozen in the middle of our beautifully set dining room, the candles I had chosen myself still flickered lightly between us. 

My eyes moved from Ambrose’s calm face to the woman standing beside him. 

She was absolutely stunning, the kind of beautiful that turned heads without effort and she had his suit jacket draped over her shoulders as if it was hers.

“Who is this?” My voice came out quieter than I wanted.

Ambrose loosened his tie slightly, his expression stayed as controlled as ever, like this was just another board meeting. “Iris, this is Blair Adeline. Blair… my wife, Iris.”

Blair gave me a small, polite smile, but her eyes studied me carefully. One hand rested gently on her stomach and the gesture made my chest tighten.

“Pregnant,” Ambrose continued in the same steady tone. “She’s carrying my child.”

I felt like the floor was going to open up and swallow me. I stared at him, waiting for something—anything—that would tell me this was a sick joke. 

But he just stood there, looking at me like he was explaining quarterly reports.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” I whispered, my hands were starting to shake at my sides. “You brought her here? On our anniversary?”

Ambrose sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The affair was never supposed to become serious, Iris. It just happened. But now that Blair is pregnant, certain responsibilities have to be handled carefully. For the company and for the family name.”

Responsibilities. He spoke like he was discussing a business deal, not the fact that he had just destroyed our marriage in one night. 

The dinner I had spent weeks planning sat untouched on the table. The wine. The flowers. Everything suddenly felt ridiculous.

Blair remained quiet beside him, but I caught the way her lips took a slight curve when she saw the pain on my face. There was satisfaction there, hidden behind that elegant mask she wore.

“You slept with her,” I said slowly, forcing the words out. “And got her pregnant. And now you’re telling me this like it’s nothing?”

“It’s not nothing,” Ambrose replied, his voice was still calm. “But a divorce right now would damage the Dupont image and the board wouldn’t like it. We can manage this discreetly. You’ll still be my wife in public.”

I laughed, but it hurt. “Discreetly? You brought her into our home, Ambrose. Into the penthouse where I planned our anniversary dinner.”

Before he could respond, the private elevator opened again. Vivienne Dupont stepped in, dressed impeccably even at this hour. Ambrose must have told her beforehand…of course he did.

“Mother,” Ambrose greeted her with a nod.

Vivienne’s cold eyes landed on me immediately. “Iris. I see you’ve been told.” She walked closer, her heels clicking sharply against the marble. “Three years of marriage and no heir. Perhaps this situation happened because my son got tired of waiting for you to fulfill your role.”

Her words felt like a slap to my face and I felt heat rush to my face as humiliation ran through me.

“Vivienne, please,” I said in a cracking voice. “This is my marriage—”

“Your marriage?” She cut me off with a mocking laugh. “You have been nothing but a disappointment to this family. Ambrose has carried everything while you played the perfect wife in front of the cameras. Now look at the result.”

I turned to Ambrose desperately. “Say something. Please. Defend me. Tell her this isn’t right.”

He said nothing, he just slightly turned his face away. His silence hurt me worse than everything else combined, but it also confirmed what I had feared for months—he didn’t care enough to fight for me.

Tears formed in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall in front of them. Not in front of Blair, who was watching me like I was entertainment.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered. “I can’t stay here right now.”

I grabbed my coat and purse, and moved my legs before my mind could catch up. Ambrose called my name once, but there was no real urgency in his voice so I didn’t turn back.

Outside the building, paparazzi were already waiting. Camera lights went off as I stepped out. 

Rumors about Ambrose and Blair must have started leaking online. But I kept my head down, forcing myself into the waiting car.

“Take me to the Dupont Foundation gala,” I told the driver, but my voice was barely steady.

The entire ride I stared out the window, trying to breathe properly. When I arrived at the gala, I fixed my face in the mirror, plastered on the perfect Mrs. Dupont smile, and walked inside.

The ballroom was filled with Manhattan’s elite. Everyone smiled and greeted me like nothing was wrong, but I could hear the whispers.

“Is it true about Ambrose?”

“Poor Iris… she looks stiff tonight.”

I smiled harder and took a glass of champagne. Then another and another. The alcohol went down my throat painfully, but it helped numb the splitting pain in my chest. 

I kept laughing at jokes I didn’t find funny and made small talk with people who probably already knew my husband had gotten another woman pregnant.

At one point, I felt the prickling sensation of someone watching me.

I turned slowly and saw him across the ballroom. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing an immaculate black tuxedo and a black mask that covered the upper half of his face. 

Even from a distance, the intensity in his eyes made my skin prickle. He didn’t look away when I caught him staring. If anything, his gaze grew more focused on me.

I looked away quickly, my heart was racing. But every time I glanced back, he was still there watching me. It felt like he could see straight through the mask I was wearing tonight.

Another group of socialites nearby whispered loudly enough for me to hear.

“…brought his mistress into the penthouse on their anniversary. How humiliating.”

My stomach twisted, I couldn’t take it anymore. I set my empty glass down and turned away from the ballroom, heading toward the quieter upper floors where the private hotel suites were located. 

My heels clicked against the stairs as I climbed. I was desperate for air, desperate to be alone. 

I didn’t need to turn around to know he was following me.

The masked man moved silently but purposefully behind me. I could feel his presence in the hallway as I pushed open the door to one of the empty private suites.