Chapter 2

Gifford looked momentarily confused by her question. "What do you mean, why today?"

He started to repeat his earlier excuse. "I told you, she just got back..."

"Stop," Adriana cut him off, her voice low but sharp. "Today is my birthday, Gifford. You chose my birthday to do this."

She glanced at Jovita, who was now hiding her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with sobs. But Adriana saw the flicker of triumph in her eyes before she looked away.

"And she knows it, doesn't she? She's enjoying this."

Adriana thought of all the years she had spent molding herself into the perfect Stanton wife. She gave up her fiery personality, her love for loud music, her casual clothes. She learned about fine art, opera, and the intricacies of corporate law, all to stand beside him, to be a credit to him. She had given up herself.

And for what? For him to dismiss her pain, to champion the daughter of a housekeeper over her, on her own birthday. The unfairness of it was a physical weight in her chest.

"You're being overly emotional," Gifford said, his voice laced with disdain.

That was the final push. Adriana wrenched her arm from his grip with a strength that surprised them both. She turned and walked back to her car without another word.

Jovita's voice followed her, a soft, wounded whisper. "Gifford, maybe I should leave... I've made Ms. Cotton so unhappy."

Adriana felt a wave of nausea. The girl's performance was flawless.

She got in her SUV and drove, with no destination in mind. The city lights blurred through her unshed tears. She remembered Gifford' s proposal, so formal and correct. He had promised her a life of respect, of partnership. A lie. Every word a lie. She regretted her choice so deeply it hurt to breathe.

Her phone rang, startling her. It was Alexzander Wilson.

"Happy birthday, Addy," his cheerful voice boomed through the car's speakers. "I miss you like crazy. Say the word and I'll fly back right now."

Adriana managed a weak smile. "You're in Tokyo, Alex. Don't be ridiculous."

"For you, I'd swim," he said, and she knew he meant it. His devotion was a stark, painful contrast to the coldness she had just left behind.

After an hour of aimless driving, she finally went home. It was late, past midnight. She expected a dark, quiet house.

Instead, the mansion was blazing with lights. Music and laughter spilled out onto the manicured lawn.

She walked in and stopped dead. Her living room was filled with people. It was a party. A surprise birthday party she never wanted.

And in the center of it all was Jovita, acting as the hostess. She was greeting guests, directing the catering staff, a radiant smile on her face.

Then Adriana saw it. Jovita was wearing the vintage Chanel dress Adriana had been saving for a special occasion. Her special occasion.

Adriana felt like a stranger in her own home.

Gifford saw her and hurried over, a strained smile on his face. "Adriana! You're back. We were worried. I thought, since the evening started so poorly, a little celebration might..."

Adriana's eyes were fixed on Jovita. "What is she doing, Gifford? Hosting my birthday party?"

"She was just trying to help," he said, his voice defensive. "She organized all of this to make it up to you."

"And the dress?" Adriana' s voice was ice. "Did you give her permission to wear my clothes, too?"

"Don't be so petty, Adriana," he snapped. "It's just a dress."

Jovita watched them from across the room, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. A few guests, friends of the family, started to move toward them, sensing the tension.

"Adriana, Gifford, happy birthday!" one of them said, trying to diffuse the situation.

Gifford was pulled away into a conversation, leaving Adriana alone.

Jovita seized the opportunity. She glided over to Adriana, her voice a poisonous whisper only she could hear.

"You see? This is my place now."

She leaned closer. "You got what you deserved. You were never good enough for him."

"He and I," Jovita purred, "we belong together. We always have."

Adriana looked down at the younger woman, at her smug, victorious face.

"Are you trying to be a homewrecker, Jovita?" she asked, her voice dangerously soft.

"We have a history you know nothing about," Jovita sneered. She leaned in, her lips almost touching Adriana's ear. "He told me you're cold in bed. Like a fish."

The words hit Adriana harder than a physical blow. In that moment, all the rules, all the discipline, all the carefully constructed composure shattered.

Without a second thought, Adriana's hand flew up and connected with Jovita's cheek. The sound of the slap echoed through the suddenly silent room.