Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Priscilla’s POV

The morning sun came through the curtains and hit my eyes, making my head throb. For a second, I forgot about the night before and hoped things would be back to normal.

Then I looked at the other side of the bed. It was already empty, the sheets cold where Creighton usually slept.

I got up and walked into his dressing room. He was standing by the mirror, adjusting his silver watch while staring down at his phone on the counter.

His fingers were flying across the screen, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

I stepped closer to grab my robe, and the screen lit up with a new notification. Chloe’s name popped up, followed by a little heart emoji.

He didn't even notice me standing there until I cleared my throat. He quickly flipped the phone face down on the marble.

"you're up early," he said, his voice flat as he put on his suit jacket.

"I didn't sleep well," I said, watching him button his cuffs. "Are you heading to the office now?"

"Yes," he said, picking up his briefcase. "And before I forget, Chloe is going to be staying at the penthouse on Michigan Avenue for a while."

My heart dropped into my stomach. "The family penthouse? Why?"

"Her emotional state is really unstable right now," he said, completely casual, like he was talking about the weather. "The hotel is too loud for her, and she needs a quiet place to heal after everything she went through overseas."

"Creighton, that's our family property," I said, my voice shaking a little. "Don't you think you're doing a bit too much for an ex-girlfriend?"

He stopped and looked at me, his eyes turning completely cold. "She's a childhood friend who's going through a rough divorce, Priscilla. Don’t start this today."

He walked past me before I could say anything else. It felt like another piece of my marriage was being chipped away, and I was just supposed to stand there and watch.

By noon, the house felt too quiet again. I couldn't stop thinking about him and Chloe, so I decided to do something about it.

I packed up some leftovers from the dinner he hadn't touched and drove down to the Cross Group headquarters. I thought maybe a surprise lunch would help us talk.

When I got to the top floor, his assistant, a nice girl named Sarah, looked up from her desk and turned completely pale when she saw me.

"Hi, Sarah," I said, holding up the bag. "Is Creighton free for lunch?"

"Oh, Mrs. Cross," she stammered, looking at the closed office doors behind her. "Mr. Cross isn't here right now."

"Did he go to a meeting?" I asked.

"He left about an hour ago," she said, looking down at her keyboard like she couldn't bear to look at my face. "He said he had to accompany Miss Harrington to a medical appointment."

The bag in my hand suddenly felt incredibly heavy.

"I see," I whispered. "Thank you, Sarah."

I walked back to the elevator, my chest aching so badly I could barely breathe. I didn't even make it out of the parking garage before the tears started.

I sat in the driver's seat of my car, eating the cold food straight out of the container by myself. I had never felt more humiliated in my entire life.

I spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready for the Cross family charity banquet. It was a huge deal every year, and I had chosen a beautiful navy blue silk gown weeks ago.

When we arrived at the venue, Creighton let me loop my arm through his, but he felt like a statue walking beside me.

We stepped into the ballroom, and the cameras started flashing immediately. I tried to smile, but my face felt stiff.

Then the crowd parted, and I saw Chloe walking in.

My breath caught in my throat. She was wearing a navy blue silk gown that looked almost identical to mine, right down to the low-cut back.

She looked elegant and glamorous, and she immediately walked right over to our side.

"Oh my gosh, Priscilla," she gasped, covering her mouth. "We are matching. I am so embarrassed."

"It is fine," I said, though my face was burning.

Throughout the entire night, Chloe managed to position herself right next to Creighton. Every time a photographer approached, she stayed right there.

I stepped away to get a glass of water, and as I walked past the bar, I heard two women laughing.

"Look at them," one whispered, nodding toward Creighton and Chloe. "They look like the perfect couple. It is a real reunion."

"I know," the other replied. "The current wife just looks so plain next to her. Everyone knows Creighton only settled for her because his family forced him to move on."

I kept walking, my eyes burning as I swallowed the lump in my throat. I wanted to scream at anybody, tell them to at least see how much I was hurting inside, but I just kept my head up.

When we finally got home later that night, the silence in our bedroom was suffocating.

Creighton stood in front of the mirror, untying his bow tie. I walked up behind him, reaching out to help him loosen the knot like I always did.

His skin was warm, but his expression was totally blank.

"Creighton," I said softly, keeping my eyes on his neck. "Does Chloe being back change anything between us?"

He didn't move. He didn't even look down at me through the mirror.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice completely flat.

"You missed our anniversary for her," I said, my voice cracking. "You gave her the penthouse. You left work to go to her doctor's appointment. It feels like she's taking my place."

He sighed, a long, annoyed sound, and pulled away from my hands before the tie was fully off.

"You’re overthinking things, Priscilla," he said coldly. "Chloe is going through a hard time, and I am helping her. That's all there is to it."

"Now stop being dramatic and go to sleep," he added, turning his back to me to walk toward the bathroom.

I stood there alone in the middle of the room, feeling completely crazy.

An hour later, I was lying awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling while Creighton slept silently beside me.

The room was totally still until a low buzzing sound broke the quiet.

Creighton's phone lit up on the nightstand, the screen casting a bright blue glow across his face.

It was after midnight.

He moved instantly, grabbing the phone before it could ring out loud. He didn't even look at me to see if I was awake.

He slipped out of the covers, his movements quiet and practiced, and walked out of the bedroom into the hallway.

Through the crack in the door, I could hear his voice drop to a soft, comforting whisper as he answered Chloe's call.

It was obvious as day. I was losing what was left of the relationship between my husband and I.