Chapter 3

Sarah stared at the bill in Jessica's outstretched hand.

The audacity.

Before Sarah could form a coherent, queenly retort, Ethan, ever the performer, added to the humiliation.

He unfastened his expensive, jewel-encrusted cufflinks.

"Here, take these," he said, his voice dripping with false pity.

"A little something for old times' sake. Just don't embarrass yourself further tonight. Or me, by association."

He actually thought she was here, desperate, pining for him.

The delusion was staggering.

A gossipy socialite, drawn by the commotion, peered at Sarah's dress.

Her voice, loud and carrying, sliced through the nearby chatter.

"Wait a minute... that fabric on her dress... it looks like the exclusive Valorian silk. The kind the King gifts only to the Queen! She must have stolen it from the First Lady's suite!"

The accusation hung in the air, ugly and absurd.

Sarah wanted to laugh.

Or scream.

Stolen?

This gown was a gift from Alaric, woven by Valorian artisans, a symbol of her new life, her new love.

She remembered Alaric's words when he'd given it to her: "For my Queen. May it always remind you that you are cherished."

The memory was a balm, but the present sting was sharp.

Ethan seized on the socialite's words.

His eyes gleamed with malicious triumph.

"Stolen? Well, Sarah, you always did have sticky fingers for things that weren't yours. My heart, for example."

Jessica tittered.

"Security! I think we have a thief here. And someone causing a disturbance."

Ethan puffed out his chest.

"Yes, security! This woman needs to be removed. She's clearly unstable."

He was about to signal a nearby event security guard, his face a mask of self-importance.

He was relishing this, this chance to utterly demolish the woman he believed still yearned for him.

Sarah stood frozen, not by fear, but by a cold, rising anger.

How dare he?

After everything?

The years of careful rebuilding, the peace she'd found with Alaric, the joy of motherhood – it all felt threatened by this man's colossal ego and cruelty.

She thought of the pills.

The lies.

The public shaming he'd orchestrated.

He'd fed her birth control, disguised as vitamins.

For months.

While she'd talked about their future children, their family.

He'd listened, nodded, and continued his deception.

All for Jessica, and for his precious career.

He'd claimed the stress of his job and her supposed "neediness" had driven him to it.

He'd never admitted the real reason was his affair with Jessica and his cowardice in not ending things with Sarah cleanly.

The confession, when it came, was brutal.

"I never loved you, Sarah. It was always Jessica. I stayed with you because my parents approved of you. Jessica... she was a risk I couldn't afford until I had no other choice."

That was after Jessica's scandal made her temporarily "unsuitable" even for him.

His public breakdown was a calculated move to paint himself as a tragic hero, sacrificing his true love, and conveniently blaming Sarah for his emotional turmoil.

The memory was a raw wound, reopened by his current viciousness.

He hadn't changed.

Still selfish, still cruel, still believing his own lies.