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Chapter Four The Mistress Behind the Smile

Author: Jane James
last update Last Updated: 2025-04-26 03:03:00

Elena

I had mastered the art of looking composed.

Years of hosting galas, counseling patients through breakdowns, and building a flawless reputation had trained me to smile through anything. Even now, standing in a room filled with champagne flutes and polished lies, I wore that same serene expression.

But underneath it all, I was drowning in silence.

The charity auction was one of those high-profile events Daniel and I always attended together—another photo opportunity, another night of pretending we were still the perfect couple. But tonight, he’d called an hour before, claiming a “last-minute meeting” had come up.

Right.

So I came alone.

The room glittered with familiar faces—socialites, executives, politicians—but none of them mattered. My eyes scanned the crowd, heartbeat steady, gaze sharp. I didn’t know what I was looking for.

Until I saw her.

She was standing near the bar in a navy silk dress that clung to her hips like water. Her hair was pinned up, loose tendrils falling along her neck. And she was laughing—his laugh. The soft, tilted smile I had seen in Daniel’s reflection too many times.

Sophie Mitchell. In my world.

I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I just watched.

She was talking to a man I recognized from Daniel’s firm. The same man Daniel had said he’d be meeting with tonight.

I knew then. Daniel hadn’t just lied to me—he had brought her into my circle. Bold. Stupid. Cruel.

I took a slow sip of champagne, letting the cool bitterness spread across my tongue. Sophie didn’t notice me at first. She was too busy charming the room, basking in attention like she belonged there.

Then her eyes landed on mine.

It was brief—a flicker, a pause—but enough. I saw the hesitation. The faintest recognition. She knew who I was.

I smiled. Not wide. Not fake. Just… controlled.

And then I walked toward her.

Her eyes widened, only slightly, before she pasted on the same polite smile every woman in this room had mastered. I held out my hand.

“Elena Hart,” I said smoothly, voice calm. “Daniel’s wife.”

There it was. The flinch. A blink too long. The moment she realized I wasn’t a rumor or a name on a forgotten wedding band. I was real. I was standing right in front of her.

She took my hand. “Sophie Mitchell. Lovely to meet you.”

Her voice was composed, but I could hear the nerves beneath it. Good. I leaned in slightly, enough to brush my cheek close to hers in a mock-kiss.

“Such a beautiful dress,” I murmured. “Daniel always did have impeccable taste.”

Her breath hitched for a fraction of a second.

I pulled back, eyes locked on hers. The silence stretched between us like a wire pulled taut.

“Are you enjoying the event?” I asked, sipping again.

“I am,” she said. “It’s… lovely.”

“Daniel told me he had business tonight.” I tilted my head, voice light. “Imagine my surprise, seeing you here instead.”

Her jaw clenched. She recovered quickly, offering a small shrug. “I wasn’t aware he wouldn’t be attending.”

Liar.

I stepped back, letting her off the hook. For now. But I had said enough. I had planted the seed. I watched as her confidence shrank beneath her designer heels, and I felt the first flicker of something I hadn’t felt in weeks.

Control.

“Enjoy your evening, Sophie.” I turned, my dress swaying as I moved through the crowd. I didn’t need to look back. I felt her eyes on me. Her uncertainty. Her fear.

Let her wonder what I knew.

Let her panic.

Because now, the game had begu

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