Chapter 8- After The Storm

DOMINIC

She didn’t say anything when we stepped through the doors of the mansion. The soft click of her heels on the marble floor echoed louder than either of us. I didn’t blame her for staying quiet after what just happened, silence was probably the only thing holding us both together.

I turned to her before we went any farther. Her dress was still damp in places, the satin clinging to her in a way that made it far too easy to forget everything else.

“You should give the dress to a maid to get it dry cleaned,” I said, keeping my voice level.

She nodded, shrugging off my jacket and folding it over her arm. “Right. I will.”

There was a beat of stillness, just long enough for me to forget I was supposed to walk away,when the sound of socked feet slapping against the floor broke through the quiet.

“Brook!”

Elliot came running down the grand staircase, his tiny form barely a blur before he wrapped himself around her waist. She laughed, crouching to return his hug, her hand smoothing down his hair like it was second nature.

I didn’t expect the warmth that bloomed in my chest.

Watching her kneel in that gown, arms full of little boy and the remnants of a terrible evening, I almost..almost let myself imagine something softer.

What it would be like if this wasn’t pretend.

If she was really my wife. 

If we decided to have a kid.

I’ve always wanted a family…

The thought was dangerous, so I killed it quickly.

Elliot spotted me, eyes wide with curiosity. He let go of Brooklyn and stepped toward me with the kind of boldness only kids had.

“What’s your name again?”

I smirked. “Dominic.”

He tilted his head. “You’re really handsome. And tall”

Brooklyn choked on a laugh behind him.

“And thanks for marrying my sister,” Elliot added. “I’m sure you fell for her beauty, but she’s really stubborn.”

“She is,” I said, amused. “But you’re not wrong about the beauty part.”

“Elliot,” Brooklyn said, trying to sound stern, but her eyes were laughing.

“You’re supposed to be in bed. You have to go to school tomorrow”

“Okay, okay,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, before hugging her again and then, to my surprise, hugging me too. Quick and tight. Like I was already part of his world.

He pulled back, beaming. “Goodnight!”

Then he took off up the stairs.

We watched him go in silence.

“He’s a good kid,” I said.

She nodded, her voice soft. “The best.”

Another pause. The air between us was heavier now, but not in a bad way. Just... charged.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Night” she said, handing me back my jacket and turning toward the east wing.

“Goodnight, Brooklyn.”

She glanced back at me once,just once and then she was gone.

I stood there for a while longer, jacket in hand, wondering why I suddenly didn’t feel like going to my room at all.

That’s when my phone buzzed.

Isabelle.

Ugh.

Of course it was her.

I stared at the name for a second. The contact photo had long since been deleted, but my fingers still hovered over the screen, the same way they had a hundred times before. Old habits were hard to kill. But this wasn’t just a habit. This was a mistake I kept allowing back in.

I answered.

“Dominic,” she said, her voice already thick with attitude. “You didn’t even try to apologize.”

Excuse me?

“For what?” I said flatly, turning toward the windows, trying to anchor my voice in something calmer than the mess building in my chest. “For your stunt at dinner? Or for not throwing my wife under the table to defend your ego?”

“She humiliated me,” she snapped.

“She poured water on you after you drenched her in champagne in front of my entire family.”

“She’s not your wife,” Isabelle hissed. “Not really. You think I don’t know what this is? What kind of arrangement you’re playing at?”

My jaw tensed.

“You’re out of line.”

“No, Dominic. You are,” she snapped. “I was the one who stood by you when your company was hanging by a thread, I was there. You don’t just replace that with some girl off the street.”

My grip on the phone tightened.

“You think that’s what she is?” I said, my voice low now. Dangerous. “Some girl off the street?”

She went quiet for a beat.

“You’re being manipulated,” she finally said. “You think I don’t see it? She’s playing this sweet, broken act, but the moment you stop flashing your money, she’ll vanish. And you’ll regret losing me.”

“I already lost you, Isabelle,” I said sharply. “A long time ago.”

Silence.

Then,“You’re different with her. You look at her like you looked at me, before...before you shut everything off.”

I didn’t respond.

Because she wasn’t wrong. I had shut everything off. But lately, I’d been slipping. Letting myself feel again. Letting myself wonder what it would be like if this wasn’t all for show.

Letting myself look at Brooklyn the way I used to look at Isabelle—before Isabelle ruined it.

“She’s not like you,” I finally said. “And that’s exactly why I married her.”

I hung up.

My hand trembled slightly as I lowered the phone, not from fear but from fury I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding onto.

I’d never meant to answer that call. Never meant to let Isabelle get under my skin. But of course she found a way in. She always does

I turned toward the east wing, where Brooklyn had disappeared moments ago.

My wife.

Not really.

But somehow, the word didn’t feel as fake as it used to