บททั้งหมดของ Beneath His Cold Vows: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Alicia’s POV He said something. I caught the shape of it, a word, maybe my name. But it didn’t land. It hovered between us, weightless, irrelevant. I'd watched him loosen his tie. The motion was practiced, automatic. Pull, slide, release. He did it every night. His jacket had come off next, folded over his arm like something worth keeping. I wondered, distantly, if Lucy had touched that jacket today. If her perfume still clung to the lining. If he’d kissed her before coming home to me. A hot pulse tightened in my chest, sharp and fleeting, like a warning I couldn’t ignore. The thought should have hurt. It didn’t. That was the strangest part. A week ago, it would have gutted me. Now it just existed, a fact like the marble beneath my feet or the chandelier overhead. Edward moved closer. I didn’t step back. Didn’t step forward. Just stood there, hands loose at my sides, watching him the way you’d watch a stranger on a train. Mildly aware. Uninvested. “Alicia.” Th

I heard the click of my heel before I saw the marble step, one sound, then another, and the room folded around me in bright, polite heat. Edward's hand landed on the small of my back like a practiced punctuation. I let him guide me and kept my face a mask: soft smile, unbothered eyes, the exact tilt of jaw that told photographers I was effortless. Lucy stood at the foot of the grand staircase, a slash of ruby, radiating confidence that drew admirers like moths to a flame. When her glance found mine, it was a paper cut: quick, intentional, the acknowledgment of someone who knows she's already won. I didn't return anything more than a polite lift of my chin. Let her think that was all. Let her assume she'd rattled me. She hadn't. Not tonight. The main gallery stretched cathedral-high, light pooling gold from chandeliers like frozen suns. Waiters threaded the crowd with champagne flutes and tiny architectural bites, smoked salmon on brioche, caviar in crystal spoons, something green wra

Edward’s POV The applause faded unevenly, tapering off as if the room couldn’t decide whether to stop. Lucy dipped her head one last time while Carrington brushed a practiced kiss near her cheek. Vivienne pulled her close, wearing the sort of smile she saved for cameras. Flashes burst across the stage. I didn’t bother looking at anyone else. My attention stayed on Alicia. She hadn’t shifted at all. No blink. No hint of a smile. Her hands lay relaxed in her lap, posture held with practiced ease. Her expression revealed nothing: irritation, weariness, interest—gone. Something in it didn’t land right. A server passed with a champagne. I took a glass purely for show. “We’ll leave once this wraps,” I murmured near her ear. She didn’t even turn her head. The space between us thinned, sharp as glass. Around us, chairs scraped, people stood, and conversations picked up in small bursts. Perfume drifted with the movement. Lucy’s laugh rang over the crowd, bold and very Lucy. Alicia rose

Edward's POV I had turned from Harrison, the last words about the package still hanging in the air. She was gone. Tables. Chairs. Faces. Laughter. Cameras. Nothing. My eyes swept the room. Guests leaned into conversations. Laughter punctuated the quartet. Crystal caught the light and threw it back in sharp bursts. Everything looked normal. Except she wasn’t there. I shoved through a narrow gap between tables, brushing shoulders. My gaze scraped over every face, every corner, every doorway. A woman in red glanced up as I passed, smiled like she recognized me. Opened her mouth to speak. I didn’t stop. Someone else’s hand grazed my sleeve, light, seeking attention. I pulled away. The terrace doors stood at the far end, glass panels reflecting chandeliers in fractured pieces. Two guests stood nearby, half-turned in conversation. I closed the distance. “Excuse me,” I said, voice tighter than intended. “Have you seen my wife? Mrs. Valentine?” The man blinked, startled, and glanced

Darkness felt thick.Heavy in a way that wasn’t sleep. Heavy like sinking, like something pressing me down while sounds brushed the edges of my hearing.A soft beep.A soft hiss.Footsteps.A curtain shifting.Someone said my name, or maybe I imagined it. The sound drifted too far away.A warm touch slid across the back of my hand. A thumb. Hesitant. Leaving, coming back.“Alicia.”Edward.Even half-conscious, I could hear the strain in his voice.I drifted in and out. Light dimming, brightening, dimming. A nurse murmuring something about vitals. A chair scraping. Someone’s breath shaking.That warmth returned to my hand, careful, as if he feared he would hurt me.I followed it through the fog.My lashes fluttered.Light stabbed in.The ceiling.The dim panel light.Muted walls.A deep ache curled low in my abdomen. My mouth tasted metallic. My limbs felt pinned to the mattress.A breath, unsteady, exhaled near my pillow.I turned my head.Edward sat beside me.Hair disheveled. Shirt