CHAPTER 108

SHINE ON YOUR OWN...

The day of the site visit came faster than Abigail expected.

She stood before her mirror that morning, smoothing her blouse with trembling fingers. It wasn’t nerves about the project.it was about what the visit represented. A car had already been sent from the Dixon company, sleek and black, waiting at the gates to pick her up. For the first time in a long time, she would be stepping out of the estate without Luke by her side, without his guards shadowing her.

Luke had allowed it. He hadn’t been pleased, but he had said nothing after the short, tense conversation they’d had over dinner.

“You’ll go,” he had said, his tone flat. “But remember what I told you. He’ll try. That’s all he knows how to do. Don’t give him anything to use.”

Now, as she stared at her reflection, Abigail felt a mixture of resolve and unease. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to prove that she could carry herself in Luke’s world, that she wasn’t fragile. But at the same time, the thought of Oscar’s piercing hazel eyes watching her made her stomach knot.

The car ride was silent, her driver courteous but distant. When they reached the site, the sound of construction filled the air the clatter of steel, the grinding of machinery, the shouts of men working under the sun. Dust swirled in the air, and the skeleton of a building loomed against the sky.

Oscar was already there, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, a hard hat tucked under his arm. His sandy hair caught the sunlight, his posture easy, confident. When he spotted her, his lips curved into that familiar smile that never quite reached his eyes.

“Mrs. Vandell,” he greeted, striding toward her. “You honor us today.”

Abigail adjusted her bag on her shoulder, lifting her chin slightly. “I’m here to observe, nothing more.”

His smile widened, as though amused. “Of course. Still, I think you’ll find this project interesting. Shall we?”

He guided her through the site, pointing out the foundation work, the planned design, the innovations that set the Dixon project apart. His words flowed smoothly, practiced, but Abigail noticed how often his gaze strayed to her rather than the blueprints or the structures.

At one point, he stopped near a raised platform where workers were assembling steel beams. He gestured broadly, his voice carrying over the noise. “This will be the heart of it. The main lobby. Imagine walking in light pouring through glass, elegance in every corner. It’s more than a building. It’s an experience.”

Abigail nodded politely, though her thoughts wandered. She could almost see it but more than that, she could feel the intensity in his words. He wasn’t just describing architecture. He was trying to impress her.

As they moved further into the site, Oscar offered her a bottle of water, his fingers brushing hers when she took it. Abigail pulled back slightly, pretending not to notice.

“Tell me,” he said, walking beside her, “what do you truly think of all this? Not as Luke Vandell’s wife. As yourself.”

She blinked at him, caught off guard. “As myself?”

“Yes.” His eyes were steady on hers. “You’re sharp. I can see it. You have a vision. I don’t want the rehearsed answers. I want your thoughts.”

Abigail hesitated. A part of her wanted to stay silent, to keep everything formal. But another part of her, the one that had always wanted to prove she wasn’t just a shadow in Luke’s life, answered before she could stop herself.

“I think…” She glanced back at the steel frame rising against the sky. “I think it’s ambitious. But ambition doesn’t always mean success. If you don’t keep people in mind, the workers, the people who’ll use the building then it’s just glass and stone. Beautiful, but empty.”

For a moment, Oscar said nothing. Then a slow smile spread across his face, genuine in a way she hadn’t seen before. “That,” he murmured, “is exactly what I wanted to hear. You’re not afraid to speak your mind. I like that.”

Abigail looked away, her heart thudding. She hadn’t meant to give him satisfaction.

They continued the tour, Oscar occasionally leaning closer than necessary, his voice dropping low when he spoke to her. She kept her responses measured, polite, never encouraging, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that he was persistent.

At one point, as they stood overlooking the foundation, he said quietly, “You know, you don’t belong in anyone’s shadow, Abigail. Least of all Vandell’s. You could stand on your own. Shine on your own.”

Her head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” he replied smoothly, his gaze unwavering. “And I intend to know more.”

The words unsettled her, more than she wanted to admit. She turned away, focusing on the workers below, forcing her voice steady. “This visit is about business. Nothing else.”

Oscar chuckled softly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Business, then. As you wish.”

But the look in his eyes told her he didn’t mean it.

By late afternoon, the visit was winding down. Abigail’s blouse clung lightly to her from the heat, dust clinging to her shoes, but she felt a strange clarity. She had survived it. She hadn’t faltered. She had stood her ground.

As Oscar walked her back to the waiting car, he leaned in just slightly, his voice low so only she could hear. “You handled yourself well today. But something tells me you’ll be back. And when you are… perhaps we’ll speak less of blueprints, and more of ourselves.”

Abigail stiffened, her jaw tightening. She slipped into the car without answering, her eyes fixed ahead as the door shut.

The ride back to the Vandell estate was quiet, but her thoughts roared. Every word, every glance from Oscar replayed in her mind. He wasn’t just a businessman. He was playing a dangerous game.

When she arrived, Luke was waiting in the drawing room, leaning against the mantelpiece, a glass in hand. His eyes locked onto her the moment she entered, scanning her from head to toe.

“Well?” he asked simply.

Abigail set her bag down, meeting his gaze. “It was… informative.”

Luke arched a brow. “Informative,” he echoed. “Did he try?”

She hesitated, then nodded slightly. “He always tries.”

Luke’s jaw clenched, his knuckles tightening around the glass. “And you?”

“I reminded him it was business,” she said quietly, but firmly.

For a moment, the tension in Luke’s frame seemed ready to snap. Then, slowly, he exhaled, setting the glass aside. He stepped toward her, his hand cupping her chin, tilting her face up to his.

“That’s my wife,” he murmured, his eyes fierce. “Remember, Abigail. You don’t need to fight him. You just need to remember who you belong to.”

Her heart pounded at the intensity in his voice. She nodded faintly, though deep inside, she knew this was only the beginning.

Oscar Dixon wasn’t going to stop.

And that terrified her more than she wanted to admit.