Chapter 4 Do You Believe Me

The call had barely ended when the soft click of the door caught Alexia's attention, her head snapping up.

There in the doorway stood Waylon, his height casting a shadow, his expression giving nothing away as their eyes met.

Neither of them had anticipated this kind of encounter.

Fresh from the shower, Alexia's hair clung damply to her cheeks, a robe slipping low on her shoulders, skin flushed and eyes still hazy with warmth.

That oversized bathrobe, threatening to slip further, revealed soft lines of skin; the faint scent of shampoo lingered in the air, sweet and impossible to ignore.

Waylon's gaze swept over her, lingering just long enough for her cheeks to flush, before he looked away calmly. "Get ready. Breakfast is on the table."

Moments later, Alexia emerged dressed, met by the aroma of a beautifully arranged breakfast. Hunger won out over pride; she took her seat without pretense, finishing most of the meal before pausing for breath.

Little was said as Waylon let her eat in peace, only breaking the silence after she'd nearly cleared her plate. "You need a lawyer?"

She set down her coffee cup, eyes meeting his squarely. "So you've heard."

Amusement tugged at his mouth, though his eyes stayed cold. "Is there anyone left who doesn't?"

Alexia tasted the bitterness of the coffee and grimaced for just a moment, though she quickly composed herself. "I can deal with it."

As the words left her mouth, she realized he might think she was too stubborn to admit she needed help. After all, in most people's eyes, women being dumped were pathetic.

"Do you believe me when I say that?" she asked.

A smirk played on Waylon's face, eyes narrowing with a knowing glint. "Why wouldn't I? Alexia, he's the one who should've fallen apart."

That unwavering gaze held her still, though she managed a small, genuine smile in return. "You've always known how to make a good point."

Once breakfast was done, Alexia got ready to leave.

Reaching the doorway, she stopped and glanced back. "Thank you," she said quietly, her gratitude unmistakable.

There was no chance she'd forget his kindness.

...

Ten minutes had ticked past their appointment, and Roger's patience was quickly wearing thin as he and Marilee waited for Alexia in a private club.

"Why isn't she here yet? Is she refusing to divorce you?" Marilee pressed herself closer to him, sugar in her tone as she pouted. "You haven't forgotten our shopping plans, right? You promised you'd buy me a gown after this."

Roger hummed in response. The weekend's banquet held by the Chamber of Commerce would be the perfect stage to introduce Marilee-the timing of her comeback couldn't have been more ideal. Every influential name in town would be present, all eyes fixed on Waylon's much-anticipated return.

Just thinking about Waylon sent a flicker of unease across Roger's face.

The Chamber of Commerce's open support for Waylon right before the election of its new president wasn't exactly good news for the Gibson family.

A sudden uproar near the doorway snapped Roger's focus.

His head turned, and in that instant, it felt as though the atmosphere in the room shifted.

Everyone's attention zeroed in on a single figure gliding inside with effortless grace.

Alexia walked in, her crimson dress hugging every curve, heels whispering over the polished floor. Each stride radiated poise and quiet confidence. The scarlet hue, that unmistakable glow-she looked like the sunrise brought to life.

With each step Alexia took, Marilee's smile grew tighter, until it disappeared altogether when Alexia claimed the seat across from them.

Roger couldn't hide his shock either; his eyes remained glued to Alexia's artfully made-up features.

"You..." Words caught in his throat, visible in the small, nervous bob of his Adam's apple.

Nobody present could believe this woman was the same person from last night-the awkward glasses, the baggy checkered shirt, the sopping hair.

Yesterday's pitiful girl had been replaced by someone utterly different, confident, unrecognizable.

Nothing about their surprise caught Alexia off guard. Her beauty wasn't news to her; she'd just chosen not to make a show of it. Childhood lessons had always emphasized modesty, staying out of the spotlight, never inviting too much notice.

Marriage only tightened the leash. Years spent tending to Roger's grandmother and fielding disapproval from a mother-in-law who'd been fed tales of her so-called wild youth.

Not even her hair or the color of her clothes escaped scrutiny. Every detail had been censored into drab submission.

Vibrant dresses never made it to her closet-only baggy, forgettable options filled the shelves.

That chapter, though, was behind her.

With unhurried confidence, Alexia called over a server, ordered a tequila, and began paging through the divorce agreement-unfazed by the attention.

Marilee recovered her composure first, flashing a sweet smile. "Alexia, I hope you're alright after yesterday. The reporters caught us all off guard. Someone told me you slipped in the rain. It must have been miserable out there."