Chapter 5

Chris's five hundred thousand arrived quickly.

Josie added her own savings, gathered the full amount, and sent it to the hospital immediately.

With her father's care secured, she had no more worries.

She wished time would move faster.

Josie turned to the walk-in closet.

The gala gown Laurence had chosen for her hung there, a white long dress.

It was Rosalie's style, as always.

Josie ignored it and dug through the closet's depths, pulling out a bold red backless gown.

It was a dress Laurence's grandmother had arranged for her when she first married.

Vibrant and defiant, it pulsed with life.

It was her.

The gala was held at Bayside's most luxurious hotel.

Josie arrived by cab, but a server stopped her at the entrance. "Ma'am, please show your invitation."

Josie froze. She'd always attended with Laurence and had forgotten galas required personal invitations.

Invitations were sent for couples, not anticipating a wife arriving alone.

She stepped back, reaching for her phone to call Laurence.

A few wealthy women passed by, their eyes dripping with disdain.

"Another woman trying to sneak in to snag a rich guy," one said.

"Wearing last season's style. Probably some D-list actress," another Ascot another.

"I've seen her type before. No real talent, just banking on their looks for a come-up."

Their sharp words made Josie's face flush.

She gripped her purse tightly, the sting of their remarks cutting deep.

A commotion stirred nearby.

The crowd parted, flashbulbs popping.

Laurence had arrived.

He wore a tailored black suit, standing tall and commanding.

Rosalie shimmered in a white diamond-encrusted gown, glowing under the lights.

She clung to Laurence with a sweet smile, posing for the cameras.

They looked perfect together, a match made in heaven.

Josie stood at the crowd's edge, an outsider in this glittering world.

She watched her husband play the doting partner to another woman.

Laurence's gaze swept over, catching the bold red of her dress. His brow furrowed.

He let go of Rosalie and strode toward Josie.

Rosalie's face tightened as he walked away.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Laurence asked, his tone thick with reproach.

His eyes flicked to her bare neck. "And where's the necklace I gave you?"

Josie's expression stayed cool. "Wearing it or not is my choice."

Rosalie caught up, muttering softly, "Laurence, doesn't she know you hate red? And that old dress? It's like she's trying to embarrass you."

Laurence's look turned colder, his disgust clear. "Forget her. Let's go inside," he said.

With a darkened face, Laurence held Rosalie and brushed past Josie.

He handed the server their invitation, and the server bowed. "Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews."

Rosalie handed over her own invitation. "You got it wrong. Mrs. Andrews is the one in red back there."

All eyes turned to Josie.

The CEO was cozying up to another woman, leaving his wife behind.

Cameras clicked furiously, capturing the trio's awkward positions and expressions.

The mistress wore a million-dollar couture gown, while Mrs. Andrews sported an outdated dress.

Was a divorce looming for the Andrews family?

Josie's flushed face paled under the flashing lights.

The server's rejection and the women's insults paled compared to Laurence's indifference.

Her scarred heart, torn open again, bled anew.

Ten minutes later, Josie composed herself in the restroom, touched up her lipstick, and returned to the banquet hall.

A few familiar women approached her.

"Mrs. Andrews, you look stunning! That red dress suits you perfectly," one said.

Josie smiled graciously, engaging them in polite conversation.

Her elegance and poise shone as she navigated the crowd with ease.

Laurence stood nearby, watching his familiar yet distant wife, a strange irritation rising within him.

Josie had always loved the gifts he gave her.

Her eyes used to hold admiration when she looked at him.

But these past few days-since she first mentioned divorce-that light seemed to fade.

Was she jealous of Rosalie?

That thought erased Laurence's unease.

Josie was just using divorce talk to get his attention.

Her father needed his money, and she was love-struck for him. She'd never leave.

"Rosalie, the gala's starting. I need to join my wife," Laurence said.

He grabbed a wine glass, wove through the crowd, and reached Josie's side.

The women around her smiled warmly.

"Mr. and Mrs. Andrews are so sweet, always together," one said.

They hadn't seen the drama at the entrance.

Josie recoiled from the jasmine perfume clinging to Laurence.

As she stepped away, he anticipated her move, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Stop being petty. You know I don't like it."

Josie laughed coldly inside. He didn't dislike her attitude-he just didn't allow it.

If Laurence had stayed with Rosalie all night, rumors of a split would've spread.

By morning, his company's stock would've tanked billions.

He was only here to fix his earlier mistake at the entrance.

Josie didn't want to clash with him at this critical moment before her departure.

She played the loving wife, mingling with the guests.

Across the room, Rosalie watched Laurence gently fix Josie's hair, his expression soft.

Her sweet face twisted with something darker.

She slipped to a corner and made a call. "Josie Watson's sick father-make sure he's taken care of."