Chapter 4 Pretense

Julian never returned that night, leaving Yvonne sitting on the bathroom floor with her back pressed to the cold wall, her eyes wide open until morning crept in.

When dawn broke, the haze in her vision slowly cleared. She pushed her head up with effort, every muscle stiff and uncooperative. A sharp ache twisted in her abdomen, and even breathing felt heavy.

An endless night of wrestling with her thoughts had carved one truth into her heart-Julian didn't care for her. Clinging to him would only destroy her spirit and endanger the child within her.

If he despised the baby, then she would love it all the more.

Clutching the toilet for balance, Yvonne forced herself to stand. She staggered out of the bathroom and asked a servant to cook her something light.

The staff knew better than to meddle. They had long understood the strained bond between their employers and stayed silent.

On the sofa, Yvonne spooned porridge into her mouth, and with each swallow, a bit of warmth trickled back into her frail body.

Her moment of peace ended when Sebastian Price, the butler, entered with two servants hefting a large canvas.

He bowed politely. "Mrs. Powell, this is the painting Mr. Powell commissioned for his grandfather's birthday. Will you and Mr. Powell be attending the celebration together?"

Her heart stuttered as the date struck her-Rodger's birthday. The marriage contract demanded she and Julian appear inseparable and they visit Rodger during holidays and family occasions, especially on this day.

But after the bitterness of last night, she couldn't imagine standing beside Julian and pretending.

Even so, Yvonne had no escape. She sent a message with trembling fingers, saying, "Will you be going with me to the Powell Mansion for Rodger's birthday?"

No reply came. Her chest tightened as she forced herself to call him. The phone rang, then fell silent, unanswered.

Maybe he was still in Rita's bed, too exhausted to pick up.

For a split second, Yvonne's mind emptied, leaving her frozen in place. She forced her lips into a faint smile as she said, "I'll head over ahead of him."

Sebastian gave a slight bow, his calm expression hinting that he had already expected her answer.

Choosing not to dwell on it, Yvonne retreated to her room. The mirror reflected a face drained by a sleepless night, shadows etched beneath her eyes. She painted on foundation layer by layer, trying to hide what rest had failed to restore.

By the time she walked outside, the familiar car slid through the gates. The window lowered, and one detail struck her instantly-Julian wore clothes he hadn't left the house in the night before.

Her lashes lowered as her hands curled tight, digging crescents into her palms.

The truth was plain. He had spent the night with Rita, even taking the time to change into something from her place.

Julian's voice broke through her thoughts. "Get in."

Her teeth caught her lower lip before she responded, "Sebastian can drive me."

He shot her a piercing glance, his voice cold and cutting. "Do you really want Grandfather to notice any trouble between us?"

The words lodged in her throat. With no choice, she opened the door and sat stiffly beside him.

Silence pressed down inside the car, neither willing to speak first.

A sidelong glance at him made her stomach twist. His clothes, his uncharacteristic casualness, all carried Rita's fingerprints.

The thought sickened her. Her chest heaved, and suddenly she gagged.

Julian's brows drew together as he turned toward her, startled, but before he could ask anything, Yvonne snapped her gaze away and stared coldly out the window.

She decided to match his silence, giving him the very treatment he had so often used on her.

The drive crawled by without a single word spoken between them.

When the car rolled to a stop at the Powell Mansion's gates, she unfastened her seatbelt before it fully braked and got out, striding forward with quick steps.

Julian caught up in only a few strides, his hand closing firmly around hers. Irritation sharpened his voice. "Enough of this. Do you want Grandfather to see us at odds and expect me to bend to you?"

She inhaled deeply, shoving down her disappointment until only a brittle smile remained. "Relax. I'll play the role. Rodger won't suspect a thing."

His lips flattened into a thin, unyielding line. After a tense pause, he murmured indifferently, "You'd better mean that."

The coldness in his tone hollowed her out. Memories of nights spent yearning for him blurred her eyes with unshed tears, but she clung to one fragile hope. "Then promise me something in return."

His brow creased, and her fists tightened until her nails bit her skin. Keeping her voice steady, she added, "Cut ties with her. If we're going to act like an inseparable couple, we can't let whispers of your affair reach the family. It'll ruin everything."

Even as the plea left her lips, she hated how small it made her sound. Still, some stubborn corner of her heart wanted to salvage their broken marriage.

To Julian, it was nothing but another unreasonable demand. He gave a sharp, mocking laugh, preparing to bite back.

Before he could, a firm voice, aged yet commanding, drifted from inside the mansion. "And what is it you two are discussing?"

Rodger sat in his wheelchair, which was wheeled by Jordy Powell, Julian's father.