Diamonds huh?

The next morning, I sat at the long dining table, my hands wrapped around a delicate porcelain teacup. I wasn’t drinking—just holding it, letting the warmth seep into my fingers.

Across from me, Wilbet was in high spirits. He spread marmalade over his toast, smiling to himself like a man who had just won the lottery.

"You’ll never guess who sent me an invitation this morning," he said, his voice carrying a smug edge.

I didn’t answer. I kept my gaze trained on the teacup, watching the dark liquid ripple slightly with each movement of the table.

Wilbet barely noticed my silence. "Malcolm Laurent," he continued, his voice swelling with satisfaction. "He’s invited us to a private dinner party at his estate. Can you believe that?"

My stomach twisted.

I didn’t need to ask why. I already knew.

Malcolm wanted me there.

The man had guts—I’d give him that.

Wilbet grinned, taking a bite of his toast, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction. "I knew he’d take notice of me eventually. The Laurents don’t just invite anyone to their private gatherings, you know. This is a big deal."

I set my cup down carefully, controlling my movements so they didn’t betray the unease curling inside me.

Wilbet finally glanced at me. His gaze flicked to my cheek, the visible handprint there, and his smile faltered.

A small frown creased his brow. He sighed heavily, shaking his head like he was disappointed. "Sarah!" he called out.

Moments later, the little girl entered, her expression carefully neutral.

"Ring for Raya, the stylist. Tell her we have an event to attend soon," Wilbet said, waving a dismissive hand. "Make sure she covers that on her face. I want my wife looking her absolute best tonight."

Coward.

Sarah hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Yes, sir."

I clenched my hands into fists beneath the table. Wilbet’s gaze slid back to me, his expression unreadable for a moment before he let out a low chuckle.

"I got you something."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a velvet box. "A gift for you," he said, sliding it across the table. "A peace offering, if you will."

I opened it without a word.

A diamond necklace. Flawless, expensive, with a huge, dripping cut—must be hundreds of carats. Must also cost a fortune.

I touched the stone lightly, feeling the sharp edges press into my fingertips. The diamonds sparkled.

Unlike me.

"Say thank you," Wilbet said, watching me closely.

I lifted my gaze, my voice empty and hollow.

"Thank you."

"Good. Now put it on and make sure you wear it tonight. I want to show off my wife to the world."

I clasped the necklace around my throat, its weight cold against my skin.

The weight of the diamonds sat heavy against my collarbone, their brilliance stark against the dull ache spreading across my cheek. Wilbet was still watching, that smug, self-satisfied smile curling his lips—as if he truly believed the necklace made up for everything.

I lifted my coffee cup to my lips, if only to hide my expression, and took a slow sip. It was lukewarm now, bitter.

Just like the bastard seated across from me.

Wilbet set his newspaper down and checked the time on his watch. "I’ll have Raya come up with your dress for tonight. Something elegant. Classy. And expensive, of course. I don’t trust that girl to deliver the right message. We need to make the right impression, Aziza—don’t forget that."

I gave a small nod, staring past him, out the window where the morning light cast shadows into the room.

He stood, stretching his arms before buttoning his cuffs. "I have business to attend to. You’ll be ready by seven."

It wasn’t a request.

He stepped closer, fingers tilting my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze.his thumb grazing over the bruise on my cheek. His expression darkened for a fraction of a second before he tsked, as if disappointed in himself for leaving a visible mark.

"You’ll make sure Raya covers this well," he murmured.

I didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch.

"Good girl."

He straightened, smoothing down his jacket, and strode out of the dining room without another word.

The moment he was gone, my grip on the coffee cup tightened, my knuckles turning white.

I felt like hurling it against the wall.

"Ma’am," Sarah’s soft voice broke through the silence.

I turned to the young maid standing cautiously by the door. She said nothing about them. She never did.

"I’ll go prepare things for your shower," Sarah said instead.

I nodded, rising from my chair. "Thank you."

Sarah hesitated. "Would you like anything else, ma’am?"

I almost laughed.

What could I possibly ask for? A way out? Freedom? A different life? A better family?

My gaze flickered back to the empty doorway where Wilbet had disappeared minutes ago.

"No," I replied softly.

Sarah gave a small nod before disappearing down the hall.

I let out a slow breath, rolling my shoulders back, willing the tension in my body to ease.

Tonight, we would go to Malcolm Laurent’s estate.

Tonight, I would step into the den of a man Wilbet desperately wanted to impress.

The stupid man.

He didn’t notice.

But I already knew that Malcolm’s invitation had nothing to do with my husband.

I had felt it last night. In the way Malcolm’s gaze had settled on me. In the weight of his stare.

This wasn’t about Wilbet.

This was about me.