006

The Mark

~ANAYA'S POV~

The large oak doors of the big dining room shut behind us, blocking out the noise from the rest of the house.

The room was designed to show off wealth, with lots of marble, crystal, and dark wood. But today, the air felt stuffy and uncomfortable.

Rohan walked confidently to the front of the table. He had a bright, fake smile and pointed to the velvet chairs.

"Please, gentlemen, sit," Rohan said loudly, waving his hand. "My house is your house."

Lucien pulled out a chair near the middle of the table. His gray eyes stayed locked on me while I stood silently near the sideboard. Raphaël sat down to his right, his dark jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle straining in his cheek.

Théo leaned back in the chair across from Rohan, taking up space with a slow, dangerous ease.

I moved closer to adjust the silver serving bowls, even though my feet felt numb from the cold floor.

But to make things worse, before I could lift the silver lid off the rice, the dining room doors clicked open and known quick steps tapped loudly against the floor.

I looked up, and to my utter horror, Camille walked in, not caring that we already had guests.

She was wearing a tight cream dress, but her lips were painted the exact bright red shade that matched the stain on Rohan's collar.

"Oh, am I late?" she purred, looking around the room with a smirk.

She did not wait for anyone to invite her. She glided right past me and pulled out the chair directly to Rohan's right, the seat meant for the wife.

The seat that was supposed to be mine, but she did not care.

And Rohan did not even blink. He looked up at her, his eyes sliding down her tight dress with zero shame as he smiled at her openly, right in front of me and our guests.

"Not at all, Camille darling," Rohan said, his voice warm and flirting. "We were just settling down. You look stunning today."

"Why, thank you, Rohan," Camille giggled softly, leaning closer to him. "I aim to please."

I stood, calmly holding the silver spoon but my knuckles turning an alarming shade of white.

A sudden rush of anger burned in my chest and flashbacks from last night hit my mind like a wave. I heard their voices again, echoing inside my head:

"She's like the furniture in this house. Elegant, expensive, and completely lifeless."

"She's too desperate to leave."

"I never wanted this marriage anyway."

My blood boiled. I could not believe she had the audacity and shamelessness to be standing here in my home, sitting in my chair, after wearing my grandmother's robe in my husband's bed.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to smash the crystal glass on the floor, but instead, I forced my lips shut and stayed quiet.

Rohan did not care at all. He leaned toward Camille, reaching over to touch her hand on the table. "Did you get a good night's sleep?" he asked her softly, not even trying to hide it.

"Wonderful," Camille purred, giving him a sly look. "Though the guest room felt a bit empty."

"We can fix that later," Rohan murmured, winking at her.

They were flirting like I was not even standing there.

They had absolutely no shame.

But across the table, the air had grown ice cold.

I saw Lucien's hands lock into tight fists on the tablecloth and his storm-gray eyes had turned dark with pure rage as he watched Rohan touch Camille.

His chest heaved like he was ready to snap, but beside him, Théo quickly reached out and placed his hand firmly on Lucien's arm, giving him a subtle, warning press to hold him back.

Lucien stiffened, but he stayed in his seat.

None of the three men spoke, but their angry gazes felt like knives set on Rohan.

Camille turned her head and looked at me, her red lips curving into a mocking smile.

"Anaya, dear," Camille said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "You look so tired. Is that gold saree not too heavy for you? You look like you're carrying the weight of the whole house on your shoulders."

I held my breath, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response.

"And look at your hair," Camille added with a sharp chuckle. "A bit traditional for a business lunch, isn't it? Rohan, didn't you buy her anything modern?"

Before I could open my mouth to reply, a cold, harsh voice cut through the room.

"That is enough," Raphaël snapped.

His dark eyes glared at Camille with pure disgust. The harsh edge in his voice made Camille flinch, her smile dropping instantly.

Rohan looked up, surprised and startled by Raphaël's sudden outburst. "Mr. Moreau?"

Raphaël quickly caught himself, his face turning back into a smooth, emotionless mask.

"We are here to discuss a multi-billion-dollar contract, Mr. Kapoor," Raphaël said coldly, making an easy excuse. "We do not have time to listen to petty chatter about hair and sarees. My time is expensive."

Rohan's eyes widened, and he quickly nodded, desperate to keep his important business partners happy.

"Of course! You are completely right, Mr. Moreau," Rohan said hurriedly, glaring slightly at Camille. "Camille, let us focus on business. No more distractions."

Camille's face flushed bright red with embarrassment. She bit her lip and looked down at her plate, quiet at last.

"Anaya, serve the food," Rohan ordered, dismissing the moment completely.

I moved forward silently, dishing out the food onto crystal plates. My hands trembled as I reached across the table to set down a heavy gravy boat near Lucien.

As I stretched my arm out, the heavy folded silk of my sleeve caught on the sharp corner of a silver tray and the fabric pulled back, sliding two inches up my wrist.

Under the bright lights of the chandelier, my pale skin was exposed, and the Dark, ugly purple bruises which marked my inner wrist stood out immediately.

The bruise was the clear shape of five tight fingers wrapped around my arm.

The same mark left by my husband Rohan.

The moment Lucien saw it... he went completely still again and it felt like very breath had left the room.

His hands instantly locked into rock-solid fists, with the color draining from his face until his gray eyes turned pitch black with absolute, terrifying rage.

Everyone seemed to have sensed the forthcoming chaos bubbling up, but nobody spoke and nobody dared even move.

And the entire dining room fell dead silent, waiting for the unavoidable storm.