Too late Mr cross

Chapter 4— dying silence

Elena

I sat in front of my mirror, and I couldn’t recognize who was staring back at me. I had on heavy makeup, my hair tied up in a ponytail, and I couldn’t recognize my own reflection because this wasn’t me.

It’s been almost five years, and every single day I try my best to look like her. Maybe then, he wouldn’t look at me like I was something that disgusted him.

“Are you ready?” Damien said, walking back into the room.

I forced a smile. “Yes, I am.”

He took my hand and led me to the car.

“You look really handsome,” I said.

“Thank you,” he replied shortly.

When we got into the car, he turned to me. “The fundraiser isn’t being held at my family’s estate anymore.”

“Oh, so where is it happening?”

“Rosalie suggested the Grand Serial Hotel. That’s where we’re going.”

I didn’t respond. It had to be her suggestion for him to take it into consideration. When I gave a suggestion, he immediately decided it would happen at his family’s estate.

I sighed, clenching my fist at my side. I am not angry. I am not angry. This is just meant to be like any other fundraiser, and within four hours, I would be out of this.

The car ride was quiet. When we got to the hotel, cars were already parked. Paparazzi were everywhere. The lights and cameras were blinding.

Damien got out and held the door open for me, his hand resting on my waist as we made our way inside. He gently cupped my cheek, whispering into my ear, “Smile,” and I did exactly as he said.

The hotel was decorated beautifully. From the chandeliers to the flowers, everything looked magnificent. The hall was packed, filled with chatter. Everyone was socializing, laughing, drinking.

I didn’t know anyone here, so I was just going to be Damien’s arm candy for the night, as usual.

One of the waiters passed by, and I picked up a glass of champagne because that was the only thing that was going to help me get through tonight.

Damien had begun greeting and welcoming some of the guests, and I just stood by him, smiling. My cheeks hurt so bad from forcing it, but I didn’t stop. I wasn’t even sure what the hell this fundraiser was about.

In the past six months, I’d been to four. Every single one of them was the same—rich people donating millions just to make themselves look good for some weird cause.

I just wanted to leave this place. The dress I had on felt too tight, like it was squishing my insides. I couldn’t breathe.

But Damien, on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life, and I didn’t want to ruin that. He had this warm smile on his lips, and God, he looked so breathtaking. I had complimented him tonight. He didn’t even reciprocate it. Maybe the makeup wasn’t enough, or the dress wasn’t tight enough like Rosalie’s.

Damien was talking to some elderly lady who had expensive pearls around her neck, and I was so over this. I needed a drink.

I leaned closer, whispering into his ear, “I need another drink. I’ll be right back.”

He gave a small nod, and I walked off, heading straight to the bar.

Maybe drowning myself in alcohol would help with how miserable I felt, because believe me, I felt miserable—suffocated, tired. But I still had to put a smile on my face because that was what the perfect wife did. And who would I be if not Damien Cross’s wife?

“Don’t you think that’s too much?” a voice came from behind me, startling the hell out of me.

I turned around and found Mike standing there in a black suit, his hands resting in his pockets, his hair combed back neatly, and he looked just as magnificent.

Immediately, a smile crept onto my face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked as I went in for a hug.

He held me tightly, like he didn’t want to let go, but eventually did.

“Damien invited me.”

“But you never come to events like this.”

He sighed. “I know, I know. The hospital has been taking a lot of my time, but tonight, I just… I needed a break.”

“Well, you came to the wrong place, because these people are a bunch of rich people who keep pretending like they like each other, chit-chatting and acting all fancy.”

He turned to me. “You do realize I’m rich, right?”

“Yeah, but you’re different.”

He smiled. “And how do you know they’re pretending to like each other?” he asked, leaning in slightly.

I pointed to two women standing in the corner. “Look at both of them. What do you notice?”

He squinted slightly. “I don’t know… they seem to be having a nice conversation. Maybe that’s why they’re laughing.”

I shook my head. “Nope, they hate each other.”

“And how do you know that?”

“From the body language, duh.”

He only smiled, then stared at me quietly.

“You look gorgeous, Elena.”

The way he said it, I could literally feel the genuineness in his voice. I looked away shyly.

“No one has told me that tonight.”

“Wait,” he said. “Not even Damien?”

I shook my head.

“Well, he’s an ass, and ‘breathtaking’ doesn’t even come close to how you look.”

“Thank you.”

We sat like that for a quiet moment. Then my gaze found Damien in the crowd, but this time, he was holding another woman, and I didn’t need to look closely to know who she was. It was Rosalie.

I had studied that woman’s posture so much that even in my dreams, I saw her.

She leaned in and kissed him in front of everybody.

Mike turned, his eyes following them. “What the hell is Damien doing?” he said as he got up, almost walking toward them.

I held him back. “Don’t,” I said, my voice indifferent.

“Why?” he snapped. “Isn’t that your husband?”

I nodded. “Damien is my husband, but Rosalie is the love of his life. And believe me, those are two different things.”

“You shouldn’t be tolerating this.”

“It’s been four years, Mike. I’m used to it by now.”

But that was a bloody lie. I wasn’t used to it, and every single moment he was with her, I died inside.