All Chapters of No Longer A Fool For You : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Selene’s POV The moment Pa and I stepped into the hall, I had to pause and breathe it in. The lights, the luxury, the quiet hum of chatter blending with soft jazz everything was beautiful. I had been here before… but this time, it felt completely different, it felt both new and personal. Maybe probably because this time, I wasn’t standing behind Matthew, shrinking in his shadow while he basked in someone else’s spotlight. This time… I was here for myself and my company I took a slow breath, adjusting the neckline of my gown, my eyes scanning the room with purpose. As just then, from the corner of my eye, I caught Pa glancing, and not subtly toward the far left side of the hall, where a few guests were gathered around the appetizers. I followed his gaze. And there she was a tall brunette with soft curls and confident shoulders. And I felt happy to see my father admiring a lady and also guilty because In my past life I had thrown a huge tantrum whenever I saw him try to get

This was exactly why I hated attending events like this. The fake smiles. The rehearsed greetings. The endless parade of women who tried way too hard to get my attention — twisting themselves into whatever they thought I wanted, flashing smiles that didn’t reach their eyes, and brushing their fingers against my arm like we had some unspoken connection. We didn’t. I didn’t want it. Never had. And they never understood that. They didn’t know me. They didn’t know anything about me. I kept to the far end of the ballroom, away from the crowd, slouched in the velvet booth like I was invisible. Aiden stood nearby, silent and alert as always. He didn’t have to speak. He knew how these events drained me. I was only here because my father had insisted. The music thumped softly beneath the murmurs and clinks of champagne glasses. Somewhere, laughter echoed too loud to be real. Then a waiter approached. “Sir,” he said smoothly, “a drink for you. From your father.” He gestured to

Collins' POV I didn’t even know her name. And yet, here I was—pressed up against her like she belonged to me. Her lips tasted like defiance and something sweeter underneath. Maybe guilt. Maybe craving. Maybe both. But it didn’t matter right now. Nothing did. Her fingers clutched at my shirt like she needed something to hold on to, something solid, and I was the only thing in the room that hadn’t slipped through her hands yet. Her breaths came fast between kisses, sharp and desperate, like she couldn’t decide whether to pull away or pull me deeper. And I was no better. My mind should’ve screamed at me to stop, to step back, to walk the hell out of that restroom and pretend none of this ever happened. But my body had other plans. Her touch—God—her touch lit me up in ways I hadn’t felt in years. Not since… No. I shoved that memory away. I didn’t want to compare. This wasn’t nostalgia. It wasn’t comfort. This was raw. Immediate. Present. I pulled back just enough to look

SELENE'S Pov I didn’t even shut the door behind me. I just walked in—no, stormed in—and let the heavy mahogany thud close on its own. My heels clattered against the marble tiles as I kicked them off carelessly, one landing sideways under the console, the other bouncing off the wall with a hollow thud. What the hell did I just do? I ran a hand through my hair, tugging slightly, pacing back and forth in the wide hallway like a ghost chasing its own shadow. Stupid. God, Selene, what were you thinking? I slapped my forehead lightly, twice, then harder the third time. “You’re such a damn fool,” I whispered, dragging my fingers down my face. My skin was clammy. My blouse clung to me. I could still feel his touch—not just on my body but inside my veins. That heat. That unfiltered, shameless desire. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not there. Not like that. And definitely not with a complete stranger. The guest toilet of a luxury event center. I could still smell him. Still feel

MATTHEW'S Pov I didn’t realize how long I’d been sitting at my desk until the cold in the room bit into my spine. My suit jacket hung over the chair behind me, discarded hours ago when the weight of regret became heavier than the warmth it provided. My tie was loose, the top buttons of my shirt undone, and the papers on my desk had blurred into nothingness through the haze of my tears. I’d cried. I hadn’t cried like that in years. Not since my mother passed. Not even when Sarah left the first time. But this... this felt worse. The ache in my chest wouldn’t leave me, like something had lodged itself in my ribcage and refused to be shaken free. I had told myself I loved Sarah. Believed it, too. That all those years apart had been a fluke, that the woman who returned was the same woman I used to dream about. And when she came back—unapologetic, sure of herself—I let her walk right back into my life without a single thought about Selene. About our vows. About how fragile she’d be