CHAPTER 6: SECRETS

Eva stood before the grand, full-length mirror in the master suite, still unsure whether the woman staring back was truly her.

She looked… breathtaking.

Her skin held a soft golden glow, polished to perfection. Her cheekbones, high and pronounced, framed a delicate, oval face that reminded her of the women she’d once seen on New York magazine covers in passing impossibly elegant, born to rule.

Her dark, almond-shaped eyes shimmered with a blend of quiet intelligence and fear, framed with long lashes and subtle smoky shadow. Her lips, tinted a muted berry tone, looked soft but firm, like she had something important to say but wasn’t ready to speak it.

 The silk gown Jeremi had picked she wore was a deep emerald green sleeveless, backless, and hugging her slender curves in a way that was bold without being vulgar. The neckline dipped just enough to spark whispers, and the slit along her left leg moved with grace as she took a few slow steps in her heels. Her dark hair was swept into a sleek chignon, with a few face-framing curls left loose to soften the overall power of the look.

 As she turned side to side, Eva’s lips curled slightly.

  Danica and Maya won’t know what hit them.

 She wasn’t proud of the thought, but tonight wasn’t about pride  it was survival. The Moretti Foundation gala wasn’t just a charitable event. It was a battlefield, and she intended to look like she belonged.

 A soft chime echoed through the suite.

 Her breath caught.

 " Mr. Morreti is ready." Beatrice said calmly 

 

And without any questions Eva walked fast to the elevator.

 She stepped into it slowly, her clutch firm in her hand, every inch of her trained to walk with Ellen’s poise. The scent of jasmine and cedar clung to her skin.

The same perfume Ellen used to wear.

 When the elevator doors glided open with a quiet ding, Jeremi was already waiting.

 And he looked like power dressed in sin.

 

His black tuxedo was perfectly tailored, hugging broad shoulders and narrowing down to a trim waist. The crisp white shirt beneath made the olive tone of his skin even richer, and the dark bow tie sat effortlessly at his collar. His hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place, and a thin silver watch glinted beneath his cuff.

 But it was his eyes that stunned her. Cold. Calculating. And piercingly beautiful.

 They scanned her from head to toe  slowly, like he was reading a language only he understood  and for a moment, his lips parted.

 “Ellen,” he said softly, the name lingering like a lie in the air.

 “You look... appropriate.”

Appropriate. Not beautiful. Not stunning. Appropriate.

 Eva held her head high and stepped forward, matching his cool energy. “Shall we?”

 He offered his arm. She took it.

 The Maybach’s doors closed with a hush, and Eva found herself seated beside Jeremi in the dimly lit backseat. The interior smelled of leather and oud, expensive and heavy. Their chauffeur pulled silently into Manhattan traffic, and the streets began to blur through tinted glass.

 Jeremi didn't speak for the first few minutes. He simply stared out the window, his fingers laced together, his jaw carved in stillness.

 Eva sat with her legs crossed at the ankles, her hands resting on her clutch, pretending to be unbothered but her pulse thudded. His silence always meant something.

 “You didn’t ask if I liked the dress,” she said lightly, turning her gaze toward him.

 He finally looked at her. Not a flicker of warmth. Just that assessing gaze, the kind that stripped everything away.

 “You're dressed to win,” he said. “I assumed you wouldn't like my choice .”

 She swallowed, unsure if it was a compliment or a test . Probably both.

 The city lights washed over them blue, gold, red. And for a fleeting moment, Eva caught their reflection in the window: two beautiful strangers bound by a lie, hurtling toward something neither fully understood.

 The gala was held in one of Manhattan’s oldest luxury halls gold chandeliers, marble floors, and a string quartet filled the air with classical elegance. Waiters floated by with champagne flutes and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while guests dressed in the finest New York fashion circled the room, laughing like their lives weren’t drenched in politics and secrets.

The Moretti Foundation’s banners hung in ivory and gold, with their slogan printed beneath the crest:

  “Preserving Dignity. Elevating Lives.”

 Eva’s eyes swept the room, her smile graceful but fixed.

 She met Danica’s stare from across the hall  long legs, thigh-high slit, glittering red gown and offered her a polite, practiced nod. Maya, all diamonds and ambition, stood near a congressman Eva vaguely recognized from the evening news.

 They both smiled too brightly and fake .

 Eva’s fingers tightened slightly on her clutch.

 

But Jeremi leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Relax. They only attack when you show weakness.”

 His breath was warm. His presence… possessive.

 Eva nodded once and glided toward the bar like she owned the building.

 For a while, it was easy to play the part. Easy to smile. Laugh. Lie.

 But as the night wore on, she began to hear murmurs sharp words under smooth ones.

 “...secured twenty thousand votes just last week, thanks to those nursing homes in Queens.”

 “The senator already agreed, under the foundation’s wing, it’s a lock.”

 Halfway through the evening, after the speeches and endless flutes of champagne, Eva stepped out to the garden terrace for air. The soft hum of music and clinking glasses trailed behind her.

 That’s when she heard the heels.

 “I have to say,” a voice purred from behind her, “I didn’t expect Ellen Moretti to be this… visible again. Not after what happened.”

 Eva turned, forcing her smile.

 

The woman approaching her was tall, thin, and sharply dressed in navy satin. Her press tag was small but visible beneath her shawl: Maggie Shaw, NYT.

 “I’m sorry, we’ve met?” Eva asked coolly.

 “Not exactly,” Maggie said, stepping closer. “But I covered the Morettis a while ago. When your father fell ill. And of course, your abrupt... absence from the social scene.” She sipped her drink. “It’s good to see you again. Though, I must say, you’re... different.”

 

Eva’s spine straightened.

 Maggie smiled. “Stronger. Like a woman reborn.”

 Does she know?

 Is this just bait?

 “I’ve had time to reflect,” Eva replied calmly. “Marriage has a way of sharpening one’s priorities.”

 Maggie leaned in, her voice dropping.

“Tell me, Mrs. Moretti what role do you really play in the foundation’s revival? Word is, Jeremi kept you out of the loop… until now.”

 Eva met her eyes. “I’m here to support my husband.”

 “Of course.” Maggie’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, if you ever want to share your truth, off the record or not...” She slipped a card into Eva’s clutch. “My number hasn’t changed.”

 

And with that, she vanished back into the glittering crowd.

 The applause from Jeremi’s speech was still echoing in the hall when Eva returned from the terrace, trying to shake off the journalist’s unsettling words. She made her way across the glittering ballroom just in time to see Maya sidle up to Jeremi near the bar.

 Eva slowed her steps, blending into the crowd unnoticed.

 Maya leaned in too close, her manicured fingers tracing lightly along Jeremi’s jacket lapel as she laughed at something he said. Jeremi’s expression remained unreadable, but he didn’t step back. He let her touch him. Let her gaze linger on his lips.

 “You clean up well, Jeremi,” Maya purred, her voice low and intimate. “But I think I preferred you better in leather jackets and simpler times.”

 Eva’s stomach tightened.

 Jeremi offered a faint, tight smile the kind that wasn’t really a smile at all. “We don’t get to choose time, Maya. It chooses us.”

 

“And yet here we are,” she said, fingers still resting lightly on his chest. “The clock turns, and some things don’t change.” Her eyes flicked toward the crowd. “Though your taste in wives certainly has.”

Eva could feel the heat creep up her neck, but she kept her face still, her walk graceful. She approached just as Maya’s hand slid away.

 “Darling,” Eva said, her voice velvet-smooth as she slipped her hand around Jeremi’s arm. “The governor’s wife is looking for you.”

 Jeremi’s jaw clenched ever so slightly but he nodded and turned toward Eva, placing a light, formal kiss on her cheek.

 Maya smiled. “Don’t let me keep you. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again.”

  Too often, Eva thought silently.

 

As Maya sauntered away, her hips swaying like a woman still convinced she had a hold on something, Eva felt Jeremi’s hand rest on the small of her back.

 “Don’t,” she said softly, not looking at him.

 He didn’t remove his hand.

 

" I need to use the restroom." Eva said as she excused herself 

 

The crazy thought of Maya and Jeremi did not sit well with her , She was drying her hands with the hand dryer when she felt a fast slip under the door 

 A small ivory envelope. No name. No seal.

 Before she picked it up she opened the door to see who ha dropped it . But whosoever it was had gone , disappearing into the crowd like mist.

 Inside the restroom, behind the safety of the gold-framed mirror, Eva opened the envelope with trembling fingers.

 It contained only a single, typed line:

 "Ellen made promises. Are you going to keep them?"

 Her breath hitched. She stared at her reflection.

 

The perfect New York lady in the emerald dress suddenly didn’t look so composed anymore.

 And in the silence of that marble room, Eva realized something chilling:

 She hadn’t just stepped into a marriage.

 She had stepped into Ellen’s unfinished life.