CHAPTER 51

I WILL DO IT MY OWN WAY...

The next morning, Abigail woke to the faint scent of his cologne lingering on the sheets beside her. The space next to her was empty. Luke was gone, as always, before she opened her eyes.

It was quiet, except for the occasional clink of porcelain in the kitchen where the staff moved about. She lay there for a while, staring at the pale ceiling, letting the events of the previous night circle through her mind.

The way he’d told her, so certain, so absolute.

The way his hand had rested against her back for that single, claiming moment.

He had already made the decision for her that much was clear. But this wasn’t about letting him dictate her steps. It was about whether she was willing to step into that world on her own terms, a world she barely knew.

She finally sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The silk robe slipped over her shoulders as she moved to the vanity. Her reflection stared back at her hair tousled, eyes sharp.

“Fine,” she murmured to herself. “I’ll do it.”

But she knew better than to think this would be a simple social commitment. Luke’s moves were never just what they appeared to be. If he wanted her in that club, it was because there was more at stake than he’d said aloud.

And if Obetta was part of it… well, then she would walk in with her head high and make sure the woman choked on her own expectations at least she was willing to fight it out with obetta.

She reached for her phone. There was only one person she could speak to about this without filtering every word Maya.

The call connected after a few rings.

“Abigail?” Maya’s voice was warm, but tinged with curiosity. “It’s early for you to be calling. Is everything alright?”

Abigail curled her legs up on the chair, cradling the phone. “Depends on your definition of ‘alright.’”

“That bad?”

“Not exactly bad. Just… complicated,” Abigail said, running her finger along the edge of the vanity. “Luke wants me to join a club.”

“A club?”

“Not the fun kind. The type with exclusive luncheons and private events wives and daughters from wealthy families. It’s less about doing anything and more about being seen.”

Maya made a low sound. “Ah. That kind of club. The silent wars in designer dresses, shoes and bags .”

“Exactly,” Abigail said with a humorless laugh. “And guess who’s already in it?”

“Let me guess. Obetta.”

“Bingo.”

There was a pause on the other end. “So he wants you in the same space as her? Why?”

Abigail leaned back, pressing her head against the chair. “He says it’s about presence. About making sure I’m visible in the right circles. But with Obetta there, it’s going to be more like walking into a ring but he said he wants me to show obetta I belonged to his world not her.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Maya said thoughtfully. “Luke doesn’t exactly shy away from making statements.”

“True,” Abigail admitted. “But this feels different. It’s… personal.”

Maya’s voice softened. “How do you feel about it?”

“That’s the problem,” Abigail said after a moment. “Part of me hates the idea. The other part of me wants to do it just to prove her wrong. To show her she’s not even close to my level.”

“That second part?” Maya said with a grin in her voice. “That’s the one you should listen to.”

Abigail smirked. “You think?”

“I know,” Maya replied. “You’ve been living in his world for a while now, Abigail. Maybe it’s time you start owning it instead of just walking through it. Let her see you not as someone Luke chose but as someone who belongs there rightfully unlike her that already is his gone ass dead past.”

Her friend’s words sank deep. Belonging. That was the real challenge. It wasn’t enough to sit at the table, she’d have to make sure no one could imagine it without her there.

“You’re right,” Abigail said slowly. “If I do this, I do it fully. No flinching, no holding back.”

“That’s the spirit,” Maya said, then added teasingly, “Just remember to wear something that says ‘I could end you with a smile.’”

Abigail laughed, the tension in her chest loosening for the first time that morning. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

After they hung up, she sat for a long time in silence, thinking. She imagined the club polished floors, whispered judgments, women whose smiles were as sharp as glass. And in the middle of them, Obetta.

If Luke wanted her to step into that space, fine. But she wouldn’t walk in as just his wife. She’d walk in as Abigail Vandell, someone they’d remember a name that would never be forgotten and will never fade.

When she heard the faint hum of the intercom announcing Luke’s return that evening, she knew she was ready.

He found her in the library, curled in an armchair, a glass of wine on the side table. His gaze moved over her lingering, assessing before he crossed the room.

“You’ve decided,” he said, not as a question, but as a statement.

She met his eyes. “I’ll join but not on your request, just so you know my own decision.”

His mouth curved slightly, the barest sign of approval. “Good.”

“But,” she added, “I’ll do it my way not your way I can handle it.”

His brow lifted in interest, but he didn’t challenge her. Instead, he simply reached for her wine glass, taking a slow sip before setting it back down.

“Then I’ll look forward to seeing what that looks like,” he murmured, his tone holding that layered meaning she’d learned to recognize.

She knew in that moment this wasn’t just an introduction to a club. It was the start of something else entirely and she was willing to show him and the world that she could do it she wasn't going to shy away from this. Not now and not ever.