Chapter 12: When the Past Comes Dressed in Black

The mansion buzzed with preparations.

Stylists flitted through the halls like butterflies, carrying fabric swatches and makeup kits. A tailor adjusted the hem of James’s tuxedo, while Melinda sat still under a soft spotlight, her long black gown being fitted by a luxury designer flown in from Milan.

Tonight was the gala.

Tonight, they would face their ghosts in gowns and tuxedos.

“You look like vengeance in silk,” James murmured as he walked into her dressing room, his voice low, eyes hooded.

Melinda turned slightly, catching his reflection in the mirror. “Good. That’s the vibe.”

He smirked, but there was pride in his gaze. “We’re going to own tonight.”

She rose to her feet. The dress clung to her body like it had been poured over her. Off-shoulder, slit high, black as midnight. Paired with ruby lips and a diamond choker, she looked… expensive. Unreachable.

The car ride to the gala was silent not uncomfortable, just simmering with electricity.

James didn’t hold her hand this time.

He didn’t need to.

The energy between them buzzed enough to fill the whole car.

When they arrived, the flashbulbs went wild.

“Mr. Whitmore! Melinda!”

“Look here, look left!”

“Is it true you’re married now?”

“Mrs. Whitmore, is this a revenge plot against Vanessa?”

They didn’t respond. They didn’t have to. The way James held her waist told the world everything.

The gala was held in the Whitmore Grand Ballroom an opulent, gold-trimmed hall that whispered old money and screamed power. Chandeliers sparkled. Champagne flowed like water. Every guest in the room had influence, wealth… or a hidden agenda.

Melinda’s eyes scanned the crowd. Vanessa hadn’t arrived yet. But the whispers had.

People stared. Smirked. Wondered.

Then, from the grand staircase, came the sharp click of stilettos.

“Speak of the devil,” James muttered.

Vanessa.

Wrapped in red satin, her hair twisted into a polished knot, lips curled like she knew secrets no one else did.

She descended slowly, eyes locked on Melinda.

But Melinda didn’t flinch. She sipped her champagne like a queen on a throne.

Vanessa approached. “Melinda,” she purred. “What a surprise. I didn’t know James had started collecting ex-girlfriends like trading cards.”

Melinda smiled. “Funny. I thought he only kept the rare ones.”

James’s hand slid around Melinda’s waist protectively.

But before Vanessa could counter, a voice cut through the crowd rough, familiar, cold.

“James Whitmore. Melinda.”

They turned.

Standing near the entrance was Andrew Melinda’s ex, the father of her children, and the man who had destroyed her once.

Except… he wasn’t alone.

He had a woman on his arm.

But not just any woman.

The room shifted. A gasp slipped from someone nearby.

James froze.

Melinda’s champagne glass trembled in her hand.

Because the woman beside Andrew looked exactly like her.

Almost… too much like her.

Same smile. Same sharp jawline. Same curve of the cheek. Her hair was styled differently, her dress was a different shade but the resemblance was uncanny.

James took a step forward, but Melinda’s fingers locked around his wrist.

“Who the hell is she?” she whispered.

Andrew grinned a cruel, smug grin. “Melinda, meet Jade. My fiancée. I thought you two might have a lot in common.”

Jade smiled, her voice sugar-coated. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Melinda’s stomach twisted.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

This was a performance. A message.

Andrew had hunted this woman down someone who mirrored Melinda and made her his fiancée. A weapon in a red dress.

The crowd murmured. Cameras flashed.

James growled low under his breath. “He’s trying to mess with your head.”

“Oh, it’s working,” Melinda said through clenched teeth. “But not the way he thinks.”

She took a step forward. Bold. Poised.

“Nice to meet you, Jade,” she said. “But let me give you some advice.” Her eyes glittered, dangerous. “When Andrew gets bored, he’ll start breaking you — slowly, sweetly, like he’s doing you a favor. So when that time comes, and it will… remember that I warned you.”

Jade’s smile faltered.

Andrew’s smirk vanished.

And for the first time all night, James truly grinned.

Andrew’s jaw tightened, but he tried to mask it with an empty laugh. “Still dramatic, I see.”

Melinda didn’t flinch. “Still obsessed, I see.”

Jade shifted uncomfortably, clearly aware she was in the middle of something more twisted than Andrew had prepared her for.

James stepped forward then, his hand resting possessively on Melinda’s waist. “I’d say it’s nice to see you again, Andrew, but I don’t believe in lying at formal events.”

The tension crackled between them a magnetic storm waiting to break loose. Whispers traveled like wildfire through the gala crowd.

Andrew’s smile thinned. “Just wanted to offer my congratulations. You clearly enjoy my leftovers.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Gasps. Raised brows. A few camera flashes clicked with greedy hunger.

James didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. He simply leaned in and said, low and sharp, “That’s the thing about leftovers. Sometimes the best things in life are the ones you didn’t deserve in the first place.”

Melinda placed a calming hand on James’s chest, a silent request for restraint. She had her own way of handling demons and she wasn’t finished yet.

“Jade,” she said, voice cool and clear, “tell me something. Did he lie about the number of kids? Or did he just pretend they didn’t exist at all?”

Jade blinked. “Kids?”

Andrew stepped in quickly. “That’s enough, Melinda.”

“Oh, no, no, don’t stop me now,” she said, taking a slow step forward. “You bring your poor new doll here and dress her in my skin, and now you’re uncomfortable? Don’t worry, Andrew I’m done playing the victim.”

Jade turned to Andrew, confusion in her eyes. “What is she talking about?”

“Don’t,” Andrew warned.

But it was too late. The damage was already done.

Melinda turned toward the small crowd now watching the drama unfold like a live soap opera. “You all want gossip? Here’s some: I was eighteen when I met him. Pregnant by nineteen. Abandoned by twenty-one. And now, years later, he’s trying to get under my skin with a lookalike Barbie?”

She exhaled, brushing a curl off her shoulder. “Sweetheart,” she said to Jade, “if you really want to be me, don’t start with the dress. Start with the scars.”

The ballroom fell into stunned silence.

Andrew stood frozen, fury and embarrassment flashing in his eyes. But it was Jade’s expression that shifted the most her wide, uncertain smile was now a flat line. She took a slow step away from Andrew.

James wrapped his arm around Melinda’s waist tighter, pride gleaming in his eyes. “Let’s go,” he whispered. “You just burned the place down.”

As they turned to leave, Vanessa’s voice rang out behind them. “Careful, Melinda. You might be glowing now, but men like James don’t keep their toys for long.”

Melinda didn’t look back. She simply said, over her shoulder, “That’s what you said about Andrew. Look how that turned out.”

And just like that, they left the ballroom, walking out as the whispers rose again but this time, none of them sounded like pity.

They sounded like respect.

They sounded like fear.

And behind them, in a room filled with power and pride, Andrew looked smaller than ever before.