Chapter 3

The music stopped. Every conversation died. All eyes were on them.

Gifford ripped himself away from his conversation and rushed forward, his face a mask of fury.

He pushed past Adriana and knelt beside Jovita, who was now crumpled on the floor, sobbing dramatically. "Are you okay? Jovita, are you hurt?"

He cradled her protectively, glaring up at Adriana as if she were a monster.

Adriana, however, was perfectly calm. She felt a strange sense of clarity. She straightened her dress, her movements graceful and deliberate.

Her eyes landed on the diamond necklace around Jovita' s throat. It was a one-of-a-kind piece Gifford had given her for their first anniversary.

She reached down and, with a swift, clean motion, unclasped the necklace. Jovita gasped, but was too stunned to resist.

Adriana held the glittering necklace up for everyone to see.

"Thank you all for coming to celebrate with me," she announced, her voice ringing through the silent hall. "As a party favor..."

She walked over to a young, wide-eyed wife of a junior partner. The woman stared, mesmerized. Adriana smiled warmly and fastened the priceless necklace around the woman's neck.

"Happy birthday to me," Adriana said. "It looks better on you."

The woman stammered, speechless with shock and gratitude.

Adriana turned back to the crowd. "The party's over. Please leave."

Her tone was polite but firm. No one argued. Guests began to file out, whispering amongst themselves, their eyes darting between the composed wife, the furious husband, and the weeping mistress.

Once the last guest had departed, the silence in the grand hall was heavy and suffocating.

Gifford helped Jovita to her feet and settled her on a sofa before turning on Adriana.

"Have you lost your mind?" he roared.

Adriana looked at him, truly looked at him, and felt a deep, hollowing sadness. This was the man she had loved, the man she had changed her entire life for.

"She insulted me, Gifford. In our home. At my party."

"So you hit her? You humiliate me in front of everyone?"

Adriana felt too tired to argue. She turned away from him. "I'm going to bed."

Gifford grabbed her arm. "We're not done."

His face was contorted with a mixture of anger and exhaustion. "I'm tired of this, Adriana."

She simply looked at his hand on her arm until he let go. She walked to the grand staircase, her back straight.

He sighed, the anger draining out of him, replaced by a weary frustration. "Look," he said, his voice softer. "I know this is difficult. But I have a responsibility to Jovita. Her mother saved my grandmother's life years ago. I owe them."

"I will talk to her," he promised, as if it were a great concession. "I'll teach her some manners."

Adriana stopped on the stairs and looked back at him. She felt a bitter laugh escape her lips. "You'll teach her? You, who let her into our home to destroy our marriage?"

"Will you teach her not to sleep with another woman's husband? Or is that part of the lesson plan?"

Gifford' s face turned red. "That's enough!" he shouted, slamming his fist on a nearby table. The sound echoed in the cavernous room.

"She is my family! Just like you are!"

Family. The word felt like a lie. Tears pricked at Adriana's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not in front of him.

"You broke every single one of your precious rules for her, Gifford," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "The rules you drilled into me for years."

She began to list them, her voice growing stronger with each word. "No casual attire in public. No eating with your hands. No emotional outbursts. No behavior that could tarnish the Stanton name."

"You did all of it. For her. In one afternoon."

Gifford' s face shifted through a dozen emotions: anger, guilt, shame. He stood there, speechless.

Adriana took a deep breath. She pulled out her phone and called the head of their household staff.

"Please prepare the north wing guest suite for Miss Griffith," she said, her voice crisp and authoritative. "And ensure none of her belongings remain in the main house."

The butler's hesitant voice came through the phone. "But, Ma'am, Mr. Stanton said..."

Adriana didn't let him finish. "I am Mrs. Stanton. Do it."

She hung up.

Gifford stared at her, his face ashen. "Adriana, calm down. Let's talk about this in the morning."

"There's nothing to talk about," she said.

He stared at her for a long moment, then turned and stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

The sound echoed through the empty hall.

Alone, Adriana finally let herself collapse onto the bottom step of the staircase. The tears she had held back for so long finally came, silent and hot, streaming down her face.