CHAPTER 78

YOU'VE CHANGED ME...

Obetta’s heels clicked furiously against the marble tiles as she swept out of the Vandell estate. Each step felt like fire striking the floor. Her face burned with humiliation, her body stiff with anger, but her pride forced her chin higher than ever. Servants avoided her gaze, bowing politely yet silently gloating at her downfall. She felt their eyes on her back, mocking her, whispering to themselves about how the mighty had been reduced to a spectacle.

Once outside, she nearly tore the door of her car off its hinges as she slid inside. Her driver, startled, dared not speak. The silence inside the vehicle was oppressive, broken only by her sharp breathing.

“Drive,” she snapped.

The car rolled forward, the estate shrinking behind her. But in her mind, it wasn’t shrinking at all it was towering, mocking her. Abigail’s calm, unflinching words replayed over and over in her ears.

 “Whatever schemes you’ve whispered in corners, whatever poison you’ve tried to spread it all comes back to you eventually.”

Obetta’s fists clenched so tightly that her nails cut into her palms. She hated her. Hated the way Abigail sat there so composed, as though nothing Obetta said could touch her. She hated the way Luke had looked at Abigail protective, proud, in love.

That, more than anything, twisted the knife. Luke had never once looked at her that way.

By the time she reached her own residence, Obetta was so furious. She stormed into her drawing room, ripping off her gloves and throwing them onto the floor. The silence of her mansion pressed in around her.

“Worthless,” she muttered bitterly, pacing the room. “That… nobody. That little…” Her words cut off in a strangled sound of fury.

She poured herself a glass of brandy, downing it in one go. The burn in her throat was nothing compared to the fire raging inside like it could go up in flames with any slightest effort 

Images flashed in her mind: Abigail standing tall beside Luke, their hands brushing ever so slightly like they were a unit, an unbreakable whole. And then Luke’s words cutting her down, telling her outright that Abigail was the reason his family’s reputation stood firm asides himself.

The sting of rejection was unbearable.

Obetta gripped the edge of a chair, her nails digging into the polished wood. For the first time in years, she felt small. Powerless. She was used to being feared, to her presence commanding attention. Yet in that room, she had been made insignificant by Abigail….Abigail, who hadn’t even needed to raise her voice.

She sank into the chair, trembling with rage, her mind swirling. “This isn’t over,” she whispered into the empty air. “It can’t be over. She can’t win.”

But no amount of muttering changed the truth she had faced that morning: Abigail had something Obetta never could. Luke’s love.which was what she once had but it was cut off from her.and that upsetted her the more.

…………………………….

Back at the Vandell estate, the aftermath of Obetta’s visit was very different. Abigail sat quietly in the sunroom, a book open in her lap though she hadn’t turned a page in ten minutes. She was still replaying the confrontation, her own words echoing back to her.

Had she done the right thing? Had she spoken too boldly?

She chewed her lip, torn between pride and self-doubt.

Luke entered without a sound, his presence filling the room before his voice did. “You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Abigail looked up, startled. “Am I that easy to read?”

He smirked faintly, crossing to her. “Only to me.”

He sat beside her, taking the book gently from her lap and setting it aside. His hand covered hers, warm, steady. “You handled her perfectly, Abigail. You didn’t stoop to her level. You showed her strength without cruelty. That’s rare.”

Abigail searched his face, her heart tightening. “But she’ll come back, won’t she? People like Obetta don’t just give up.”

“She can come back a hundred times,” Luke said firmly. “And every time, we’ll face her together afterall it's not her first time,and it might not be her last anytime soon.”

There was a pause, filled only by the distant rustle of leaves outside the window. Abigail tilted her head, studying him.

“Luke,” she began softly, “why me? Why did you choose me when you had… everything else at your fingertips? Women like Obetta, who are polished, powerful, already part of your world?”

His eyes softened, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. “Because none of them ever saw me. Not really. To them, I was a prize. A name. An empire to tie themselves to. But you..” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “you looked at me like I was a man first. You challenged me. You refused to bend when everyone else would have. And you make me feel like I don’t have to be perfect to be enough.”

Abigail’s throat tightened, tears pricking her eyes. “Luke…”

He cupped her cheek, tilting her face up to his. “Don’t ever doubt why I chose you. There was never anyone else.”

Her tears slipped free, but her smile trembled through them. “I believe you.”

The heaviness of Obetta’s shadow began to fade as the afternoon unfolded. Luke insisted they walk through the gardens, the sun warm above them, the air fragrant with roses and lavender. Abigail let the peace of the estate wash over her, her hand clasped in his as they strolled.

They spoke of trivial things at first the way the gardeners had arranged the summer blooms, the fountain repairs near the east wing but slowly, their talk drifted into deeper waters.

Luke spoke of his childhood, of the loneliness of growing up in a house where affection was rare. Abigail listened, her heart aching for the boy he had been. She shared pieces of her own past, the struggles of finding her place in a world that often dismissed her.

With every step, every word, the bond between them grew stronger, like roots tangling beneath the earth.

By evening, when they returned to their chambers, the mood had shifted from heavy reflection to quiet intimacy. Luke helped Abigail out of her gown with unusual gentleness, his fingers lingering on her shoulders.

“You realize,” he said as he traced her collarbone, “that you were breathtaking today.”

She laughed softly. “Breathtaking while facing your worst enemy? That’s a strange compliment.”

“No,” he corrected, his gaze burning into hers. “Breathtaking because you faced her without fear. Because you stood beside me as my equal. That’s what I saw.”

Her heart fluttered at his words. “You make it sound like I’ve done something extraordinary.”

“You have,” he murmured, pulling her close. “You’ve changed me.”

Their lips met, and the rest of the world melted away. The confrontation with Obetta, the whispers of society, the weight of expectation none of it mattered here, in the cocoon of their embrace.

,............................................

That same night, miles away, Obetta stood before her vanity, staring at her reflection. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips pressed thin.

She had thought herself untouchable. She had believed that her place in Luke’s world was secure, that no outsider could threaten her standing. But Abigail had undone years of influence with a handful of words and unwavering poise.

Her fingers trailed over the pearls around her neck. For the first time, the jewels felt like chains.

“Why her?” she whispered to her reflection. “Why not me?”

The mirror offered no answer.

She slammed the brush down on the table, the clatter echoing through the empty room. But the silence that followed was louder than any sound.

……………………………..

In stark contrast, Luke and Abigail lay together in their bed, the candlelight flickering across their entwined bodies. Abigail rested her head on his chest, her fingers drawing idle circles against his skin.

“Do you ever regret it?” she asked suddenly.

“Regret what?” he murmured.

“Choosing me. Bringing me into this storm.”

He tilted her chin up, his expression fierce. “Never. You are the only choice I’ve ever made that felt like destiny.”

Her eyes glistened as she leaned into his kiss, her doubts dissolving like mist under sunlight.

And as they drifted into sleep, the difference between their world and Obetta’s could not have been clearer: one was bound by love, the other by bitterness.