Well… time to return to her old life. Wasn’t that exactly what Nolan had told her?
The event was only a day away. Turned out the invitation had been sent last week, but she hadn’t seen it.
She booked a salon appointment for hair and makeup. She needed to look flawless—but effortless.
After lunch she drove to the boutiques. The outfit had to be perfect. She settled on a pantsuit—sharp but elegant. Crisp white fabric, nipped at the waist, the pants fitting her body perfectly. Yes. That was the one.
She caught a small smile in the fitting room mirror. Stress had made her lose a little weight; now she looked strikingly lean. Even the boutique consultant who’d known her for years commented on it.
“It suits you, Nina,” she said warmly.“You look stunning.”
Nina accepted the compliment with restraint, but inside she straightened.
Yes, she looked stunning.
And tomorrow, everyone would see it.
***
The moment she stepped inside, the entire room blurred into a single humming mass.
She inhaled and felt all the stares. Some curious. Some surprised. Some mocking. After everything that had happened, after the tabloids had printed their garbage about her, she couldn’t expect anything else. But she refused to react. Indifference was her best friend.
She took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, gripping the thin stem a little too tightly. She greeted familiar faces, exchanged a few pleasantries with politicians’wives.
She noticed how people kept glancing at her right hand—where her wedding ring used to be. Everyone wanted the story straight from her mouth, but no one dared ask in a public setting.
She was still smiling when her eyes swept the room and then she froze. The glass never reached her lips. The air thickened in her lungs.
Frank was here. And beside him—Vivian.
Vivian walked with him naturally, her hand looped through his arm with casual confidence, as if she’d always belonged there.
She wore an incredible dress—flowing crimson, hugging every line of her figure. A diamond bracelet sparkled on her wrist with each movement.
She looked happy. And she didn’t hide it. She smiled brightly, boldly, confident to her bones.
She had taken everything.
The husband.
The status.
The wealth.
And showed it off without shame.
Nina felt sick. This glossy performance, this fake sweetness—after their lunch at the restaurant, they hadn’t met again. Vivian had gotten what she wanted—she didn’t need to pretend to be the supportive friend anymore.
Soft whispers rippled around Nina. Everyone waited to see what she’d do. How she’d react.
Because now, the wife and the girlfriend were in the same room.
But she simply took a sip of champagne and smiled as if she didn’t care. As if nothing tightened in her chest. As if she didn’t hate them more than anything.
She turned away and headed toward the buffet. When you don’tknow what to do with your hands, keep them busy. She plucked a grape, washed it down with champagne she despised. Two sips were enough; that was her alcohol quota for the night.
She’d barely escaped the shock of seeing her husband with his lover when she spotted another familiar figure.
