Chapter 4 Don't act like you care.

The murmurs in the ballroom hushed to an eerie silence as the crowd parted, their gazes all pinned on the stunning woman now walking arm-in-arm with Nathaniel. Estelle Godfrey, draped in an ethereal pastel blue gown that shimmered beneath the glinting chandelier lights, clung to him with a practiced delicacy. Her smile was the perfect balance between bashful and sweet, her posture subtly demure. Everything about her screamed perfection. The kind of poised elegance that won hearts instantly.

Sheryl stood frozen.

The crowd cooed and swooned, their admiration evident as Nathaniel guided Estelle gently up the small podium. His hand on the small of her back was tender, protective-intimate. The same hand that once pulled Sheryl close in private moments now guided another woman like she was the queen of his world.

A microphone was handed to Estelle. With a shy giggle, she leaned forward, her voice as melodious as it was rehearsed. "Thank you all for coming to celebrate with us. It means a lot to have all of you here as we mark my special day."

There was a pause-long enough for the words to sink in.

Sheryl's breath caught in her throat.

"Special day?" she muttered, her voice just barely audible. Her birthday. Her birthday.

The crowd erupted into a chorus of "Happy Birthday!" while Sheryl's fingers curled tightly around the champagne glass she held. For a second, she feared it might shatter under her grip.

Her gaze shifted to Nathaniel.

He looked at Estelle the way a man in love should. Eyes soft, lips curled in a proud smile, his fingers still resting on her waist. His expression glowed with something that felt like reverence.

And then Estelle did something curious. She scanned the crowd, eyes searching until they found Sheryl. Once their gazes locked, Estelle's lips widened into a knowing smile. Slowly, deliberately, she dropped a hand to her abdomen and caressed it in a gesture that spoke volumes.

Bethany's sharp gasp pulled Sheryl back.

"That bastard," Bethany hissed.

Before Sheryl could react, Bethany had already taken a step forward, her face thunderous with rage. She looked ready to march up there and tear them apart. Sheryl grabbed her wrist, holding her back with effort.

"Don't," she murmured.

Bethany turned to her, fire blazing in her eyes. "What do you mean, don't? Are you seeing what I'm seeing? Are you really going to let them humiliate you like this?!"

"There's no point," Sheryl said, her voice calm, too calm.

"No point?! Sheryl, you are his fiancée! Or have you forgotten?!"

Sheryl shook her head. "I haven't. But you're a public figure. If word spreads that you caused a scene at a high-profile event, it could harm your reputation. The media won't be kind."

Bethany's face twisted in frustration. "I don't give a damn! My brother will control the press, and sister-in-law will handle the rest. You-you shouldn't have to bear this."

Sheryl gave her a look that stopped Bethany in her tracks. It was soft, pained, but also tinged with warmth.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Bethany demanded.

Sheryl chuckled softly. "Just thinking how, a few years ago, you wouldn't have lifted a finger for me. And now... look at you."

Bethany's face flushed. "Don't change the topic."

Unknown to them, Nathaniel had not missed their exchange. His eyes lingered on Sheryl longer than they had on Estelle. But his face betrayed nothing.

After a tense silence, Sheryl exhaled slowly. "I need some air. I'll be back."

Bethany grabbed her wrist. "I'll come with you."

"No. Just stay. Please."

Bethany relented, her eyes stormy as she watched Sheryl slip through the crowd like a ghost. Unseen. Forgotten.

The hallway outside the ballroom was quieter, though still buzzing faintly with noise from the party. Sheryl walked quickly, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Her breaths came out shallow and shaky.

The door to the restroom closed behind her with a soft thud. She staggered to the farthest cubicle, locked it, and collapsed onto the seat.

She didn't cry at first.

She couldn't.

Her body felt numb, her chest heavy, her throat constricted.

Then the memories came.

Nathaniel holding her under the rain when she cried about her stepmother's cruelty. Whispering that he'd protect her forever.

His hand in hers as they stood by the beach, the moonlight catching the promise ring he slid onto her finger.

"Don't ever leave me, Sheryl. I'll lose my mind without you."

Then, the memory of that night. The night she'd surrendered her all to him. When he clutched her body like it was the only thing grounding him to earth. When her moans mixed with his groans, echoing in the darkness as their souls entwined.

She buried her face in her hands.

"It was all a lie," she choked. "Every single promise... a lie."

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed, bruised with every beat.

She hit her chest. Once. Twice. "How could you do this to me, Nathaniel... I gave you everything."

Voices.

She stiffened. Three women had walked in. Their heels clicked across the tiled floor, followed by the sound of makeup kits being unzipped.

"Can you believe Nathaniel announced another woman as his beloved?" one said, voice incredulous.

"I know right? He always kept a low profile but I heard rumors. Pictures of him traveling with some mystery girl."

"Yeah, he was always careful, but some pictures slipped. Different cities, same woman."

"Well," the third woman drawled, "Estelle does come from money. Her family owns estates in Serbia and Italy. A match made in power. That other girl was probably a placeholder."

Sheryl's fists clenched.

"Wait," one woman said. "That girl. She looks like... the one who was standing close to Miss Bethany."

"Oh yeah! Could it be she was just... used?"

"A pawn," the third woman said flatly.

Sheryl covered her mouth, stifling a gasp. That word. Pawn. It echoed around her skull like a curse.

They laughed and exited the restroom. The door creaked shut.

Still inside, Sheryl's body trembled.

Moments later, she stepped out, her legs weak. She walked to the sink, her reflection staring back at her.

Red eyes. Smeared mascara. Lips swollen from biting down on them.

"How did I not see it...?" she whispered.

She reached for a tissue and dabbed at her face. Her expression slowly morphed from broken to composed. The soft smile she wore didn't reach her eyes. It was a mask, and tonight, it would have to do.

Her phone buzzed. Bethany.

She picked it up. "I'm heading back now."

"Okay," Bethany replied. "I'll be waiting."

After touching up her makeup, fixing her dress, and inhaling a shaky breath, Sheryl walked out of the restroom.

She didn't make it more than a few steps before a shadow fell over her.

She froze.

Nathaniel stood there.

Tall. Imposing. Elegant in a navy blue suit. The man she once loved more than herself.

His expression was unreadable.

He looked at her like he had something to say, something important. But then his lips twisted into a slight, familiar smirk.

"You disappeared," he said softly. "I was looking for you."

Sheryl didn't speak. Her throat was dry. Her heart pounded.

He took a step closer, closing the distance. His cologne-warm, woodsy, heartbreakingly familiar-enveloped her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear like he had every right.

She stepped back, her walls immediately rising. "Shouldn't you be with your beloved?"

His jaw ticked. "Sheryl-"

"Don't," she said. "Don't act like you care." Sheryl lashed out at him as she then gasped, "It was all planned..."