CHAPTER 29

WE LEARN TO FIGHT FOR WHAT MATTERS...

The dining room glowed in the warm evening light. A tall candelabra stood in the middle of the long oak table, flickering gently. Soft jazz music played from the sound system, barely noticeable over the quiet clinking of cutlery.

Luke sat at the head of the table, his shirt sleeves rolled up, collar open, dark hair slightly damp from a recent shower. He looked effortlessly powerful, like a man too comfortable with his authority to flaunt it. Beside him, Abigail sat with her hands folded neatly, eyes downcast, focused on the food in front of her more than the luxurious room surrounding them.

Dinner had been quiet. Not uncomfortable just peaceful. It was one of those rare moments where neither had anything to prove or defend. The silence felt earned, a reward for surviving the chaos of the past days.

Luke reached for his wine glass, pausing to glance at her. “You haven’t touched your food,” he said gently.

Abigail looked up, startled by the sudden break in silence. “I’m eating,” she replied, forcing a small smile.

“You’re picking,” he said. “That’s not the same.”

She sighed. “I’m just tired.”

He studied her for a moment longer, then leaned back in his chair. “You want to go lie down?”

She shook her head. “No. I like being here with you.” she said sub-consciously and when she realized, she couldn't take the words back.

He raised his brow slightly at that, but didn’t speak. Instead, he went back to his wine, the quiet returning like a familiar blanket.

And then heels.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound echoed down the hallway before the door to the dining room slowly swung open.

“Luke,” came the voice.

Abigail’s eyes snapped toward the source just as Luke’s jaw clenched. He didn’t rise. Didn’t even flinch. But the slight twitch of his knuckles told her everything.

Obetta stood in the doorway, wrapped in a silk burgundy dress that hugged every curve of her perfect body. Her hair was swept to one side, red lips painted with deliberate precision. She wasn’t here by mistake.

She walked in as if she belonged there, her heels tapping on the polished floor like a threat. She didn’t look at Abigail not once. All her attention was fixed on Luke.

“I heard you were back home from work,” she said, voice smooth as wine.

“I am,” Luke replied flatly, resting his elbow on the table. “Didn’t realize I sent for you.”

Obetta smiled like a woman who knew she didn’t need an invitation. “You didn’t have to. I wanted to see how you were doing… especially after everything.”

She slowly walked to his side, resting her manicured hand on the back of his chair. “And it looks like you’re recovering well.”

Luke didn’t move. Didn’t look at her. “As you can see.”

Abigail stayed silent, her hand curled around her fork, but her eyes tracked every movement. Her heart raced not from jealousy, but from the weight of knowing what this was.

Obetta finally turned to her. “Oh. You’re still here,” she said casually.

Abigail blinked slowly. “Still and always.”

Obetta’s eyes flicked to her ring, then back to Luke. “Well, I must say, it’s... interesting how quickly things have escalated. A marriage. A public scandal. The Vandell name making headlines with the girl from” she let out a quiet laugh” I’m sorry, where did they say you’re from again?”

Luke’s voice came low. “Obetta, you’re stepping out of line.”

But Abigail gently touched his arm, stopping him from saying more. She turned fully to Obetta now, her voice calm, polite but sharp.

“I’m from the kind of place where women like me don’t need designer heels or family names to feel important,” she said. “We learn to fight for what matters. To survive. To protect what’s ours.”

Obetta smirked. “So this is a fight now?”

Abigail smiled gently. “No. I don’t need to fight. I’ve already won.”

Obetta’s smile faltered, just a bit. “You think because he married you, it means something?”

“No,” Abigail said, her voice soft but unshaken. “I know it means something because I see the way he looks at me when you’re not around. When we’re alone. When he holds me like the world could end and he wouldn’t care, as long as I was in his arms.”she wasn't sure she was the one saying this but she had to let the words flow on.

Luke's hand tightened subtly around his glass.

Abigail stood slowly, brushing a hand along her dress. “You don’t have to like me, Obetta. That was never a requirement. But you walked in here trying to reclaim something you never truly owned. And that... is sad.”

Silence.

Obetta’s eyes hardened, but she had nothing to say.

Luke finally stood, voice low and controlled. “You should go.”

Obetta turned to him, but the warmth was gone from her expression. “I thought you were smarter than this, Luke.”

He met her gaze evenly. “I am. That’s why I married her.”

Obetta’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came. She turned sharply, heels clicking as she left the room without another glance back.

The silence returned once the door shut. He didn’t sit. Neither did she. For a long moment, they simply looked at each other.

Abigail finally broke the stillness. “I didn’t mean to speak for you.”

Luke walked toward her slowly. “You didn’t. You just reminded her that I already made my choice.”

She swallowed, her heart pounding again. “Are you angry?”

“No,” he said, stopping in front of her. “I’m impressed.”

She tilted her head. “Really?”

Luke smiled faintly, the tension in his body finally starting to ease. “The woman who could barely hold a fork steady last month just stared down one of the most manipulative women I’ve ever met... and cut her down with a whisper.”

Abigail laughed, the sound small but honest. “Well, she was getting on my nerves.”

He touched her chin, tilting her face up. “You were beautiful just now.”

Her breath caught. “Thank you.”

There was a pause.

“You meant what you said?” he asked. “About how I hold you?”

She nodded. “Every word.”

Luke leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Let me hold you now.”

They left the dining room together, not as a show of power or victory but as something quietly intimate. Something unshakable.