Chapter 18: Cracks in Silence

The café door slammed behind them, the tinkling bell jarring against the storm in my chest. The night air was sharp, cutting, but not sharp enough to clear the fog of rage clinging to me.

Gabriel walked a few steps ahead, his stride clipped, shoulders stiff beneath his tailored jacket. He hadn’t touched Emily. Hadn’t spoken to her. But he hadn’t defended me either. Not once.

“Gabriel.” My voice cracked like a whip.

He stopped but didn’t turn.

My heels clicked hard against the pavement as I closed the distance. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His jaw tightened. A muscle flicked. “Eve—”

“No.” I moved in front of him, forcing him to look at me. My heart hammered, but my words came fast, unrestrained. She stood there in front of everyone and called me bitter, jealous, and hateful. She paraded her lies like gospel. And you—” my throat closed, hot with humiliation. “You just let her.”

His eyes were dark, shadowed, and unreadable. “What did you want me to do? Cause a scene in the middle of a café?”

“There was already a scene,” I snapped. “She made one. And you stood there like—like you believed her.”

He flinched, barely, but I saw it.

My chest burnt. “Do you?”

The question hung between them, heavy and poisonous.

His silence was worse than an answer.

My laugh broke out, sharp and bitter. “Unbelievable.”

I spun away, but his hand shot out, catching my wrist. Not harsh, but firm. “Eve.”

My body froze, though anger still tore through my veins. Slowly, I turned back.

His grip loosened. His voice, when it came, was low and rough. “I don’t know what to believe.”

The words gutted me.

My hand slipped free, falling useless at my side. “You don’t know me?” I whispered. “You don’t know your wife?”

“Don’t do that,” he said quickly, but his tone cracked, betraying something—fear, desperation. “You think this is easy? You think I want any of this?”

“Then stop letting her control it!” My voice rose, echoing off the quiet street. “Stop letting her control you.”

He raked a hand through his hair, pacing a step away. “I don’t even know what’s real anymore. Every time I look at you, I feel—something. But then she shows me proof, Eve. Papers. Records. Things I can’t explain.”

My stomach clenched. “So you’d rather trust her lies than trust me?”

“Don’t put it like that—”

“It is like that!”

The silence that followed was jagged and painful. Cars passed in the distance, our headlights sweeping briefly over his face, painting him in shifting light and shadow.

My throat ached. My voice broke softer now, trembling despite my anger. “She’s going to ruin us. And you’re letting her.”

Gabriel’s chest rose and fell heavily. He looked at me, really looked at me, his eyes searching.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted finally, the words raw, dragged from someplace buried.

For a heartbeat, my heart leapt. But then his next words sliced it down.

“Prove she’s lying. Please. Because if you can’t…” His voice cracked. “I don’t know how much longer I can fight this.”

My breath caught, like ice filling my lungs.

Because beneath all the doubt, beneath all the fear, one thing was clear.

If I didn’t uncover the truth soon, I wouldn’t just lose the war. I’d lose Gabriel.

And Emily knew it.

—

Emily slid into the backseat of her car, the door closing with a satisfying thud. The tinted windows cut off the night, but not the glow inside her chest.

The driver glanced back in the mirror. “Home, Ms. Dalton?”

She smiled, slowly and dangerously. “Not yet. Drive.”

The city lights blurred past, but her reflection in the glass was sharp. Radiant. She touched her stomach — the gesture automatic now, rehearsed to perfection.

The café had been flawless. The tremble in her voice, the tears glimmering in her eyes, the soft clutch of her blouse. Every eye in that room had been hers, eating from her hand. Even Eve’s. Especially Eve’s.

And Gabriel…

Emily closed her eyes, savouring the memory of his face. That hesitation. That silence. He hadn’t rushed to defend me. He hadn’t called her a liar. No — he’d looked at her, at Emily, with confusion. With possibility.

Exactly as she wanted.

Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, checking the screen. Notifications stacked one on top of another. Likes. Comments. Shares. The sonogram post was spreading like wildfire.

She deserves better than Eve.

So sad for Gabriel, caught in the middle.

That poor baby…

Emily laughed softly. The narrative was building, and she was its author.

But her smile dimmed when she scrolled further. A private message from an unfamiliar account.

You think you’re clever. You’re not. Truth has a way of bleeding through.

Her nails dug into her palm. Eve. It had to be Eve. Who else would dare?

She typed back quickly, venom in every keystroke. Enjoy your last days as Mrs. Grayson. Tick-tock.

She hit send, her smirk returning.

“Everything alright, ma’am?” her driver asked.

Emily leaned back, her eyes on the darkened skyline. “Perfect. Just perfect.”

But in the silence, her mind itched.

Sebastian.

She hadn’t expected him to reappear. He was a loose thread — and Emily hated loose threads.

Her hand tightened around her phone until her knuckles blanched.

If Sebastian thought he could play saviour, he had another thing coming. She’d ruin him, too.

Because this wasn’t just about Gabriel anymore.

This was about victory.

And Emily had never lost a war.