"Not about Scarlett specifically. Not the details. But I knew Blake wasn't… faithful. Or planning to be."
I blink. Process. "You knew he was cheating?"
“Yes. Do you have time? I have something to discuss with you.”
“Of course. But erm… Natalie, West is here with me. Give me a second to find a place more pri—”
“Actually... I need both of you. So, go ahead and put me on the speaker."
West shifts, sitting up against the headboard and pulling me with him so I’m tucked against his side, his arm a heavy barricade across my shoulders. The sheet pools around our waists. The room feels suddenly very still.
He doesn’t hesitate. He reaches for the phone before I can second-guess it and taps speaker, his other hand still steady at my waist—grounding, not distracting now.
“Go ahead,” he says, voice calm, captain-level composed. It’s a noticeable shift from the man who was just trying to convince me round three was a civic duty.
There’s a breath on the other end of the line.
“I knew,” Natalie repeats. “Not specifics. Not names. But I knew Blake wasn’t built for… loyalty.”
This time, her words land, heavier than if she’d said “cheating”.
"I knew he was playful." Her tone is careful. Practiced.Like she's said this before. "That's the word my mother used when she explained how marriages work in families like—never mind.”
“I just know it's not personal. What matters is discretion."
West's jaw tightens beside me.
"Mom reminded me of that the week Blake proposed," Natalie continues. "Over tea. At the Plaza. Like she was explaining the difference between salad forks and dessert forks."
My stomach turns. "Natalie—"
"I was raised to believe marriage wasn't about fidelity. It was about alliance. About family names and board positions and who sits where at the Met Gala." Her voice is still calm. Too calm.
"Blake's indiscretions were acceptable as long as they stayed private. As long as he was discreet. As long as I could stand beside him at charity dinners and smile."
I thought I could manage it.Discretion mattered more.It wouldn't touch me.
That's all she gives me of a lifetime of conditioning. My chest aches.
"I’m so sorry," I say, because what else is there?Congratulations on dodging a bullet that I had to prove was loaded?
"No." Natalie’s laugh is short and sharp. "Don’t apologize. I’m grateful. I’m..." She pauses.
"I know what you're thinking," Natalie says softly. "That I should have called it off the moment I knew. That I should have demanded better. But you have to understand—this is what I was taught. This was the deal. I get security, status, a name that opens doors. He gets a wife from the right family who knows how to play the part."
I feel West’s hand settle on the small of my back under the sheet—warm, grounding.
"I thought I could manage it, you know? I thought if I just performed well enough, if I was pure enough, if I treated it like an alliance instead of a romance, I could control the narrative. I was wrong."
"He got sloppy."
West and I exchange a look.
"Sloppy how?" I ask.
"Scarlett. The wedding planner." Natalie's voice hardens just slightly. "Sleeping with her was one thing. Parading it in front of the staff, the vendors, people who talk—that'sdifferent. And the bachelor party footage? The way he talked about me? About women in general?"
She takes a breath.
