The CEO's Evil Wife

Chapter 7 | Love?

The Morgan couple’s entrance to the gala was nothing short of spectacular. The event was one of the most anticipated evenings of the year, drawing the elite from every corner of the city. But it was the arrival of James and Veronica that turned heads and silenced murmurs.

Veronica had chosen a gown that seemed to defy time—a masterpiece of deep emerald green silk that hugged her figure with classic precision. The dress was strapless, with a sweetheart neckline that highlighted her elegant collarbones and graceful neck. A single diamond choker rested at her neck, its brilliance catching the light and drawing every eye in the room. The fabric shimmered with each step she took, the thigh-high slit offering a subtle yet provocative glimpse of her long, toned leg as she walked. Her hair was styled in a sleek chignon bun, a few soft tendrils framing her face, which bore a bold red lip and smoky eyes that made her look every bit the queen she was.

James, though usually composed, found himself momentarily speechless when Veronica emerged from their car. His wife had always been beautiful, but tonight, she was radiant—a vision of power and sophistication.

He himself looked dashing in a perfectly tailored midnight black tuxedo, complete with a crisp white shirt and a silk bow tie. His cufflinks were understated yet elegant, tiny emerald stones that subtly complemented Veronica’s gown. His hair was styled back, and his polished shoes gleamed under the golden lights of the entrance.

As they approached the venue, James couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on his wife. “You look... breathtaking,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

She turned her head slightly, her red lips curving into a small smile. “Thank you,” she replied, her tone as poised as ever, though her eyes glimmered with a hint of satisfaction at his reaction.

Their arrival caused a ripple through the crowd gathered outside. Photographers scrambled to capture the moment, flashes illuminating the night. The media buzzed with questions, though the most pressing one was whispered amongst themselves: Was there any truth to the rumors of James’s alleged infidelity, or was this power couple as untouchable as they seemed?

James, ever the gentleman, placed a hand at his wife’s waist as they walked up the red carpet, his grip firm and possessive. It was a silent message to everyone watching. This was his wife, and no one else held a candle to her.

Inside the grand hall, chandeliers sparkled above, casting a golden glow on the room filled with richness. Guests turned to greet them, their expressions ranging from admiration to curiosity. The Morgans were a formidable pair, their presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

As they made their way through the crowd, James leaned in close to Veronica, his voice warm but laced with sincerity. “I think you just stole the show,” he murmured.

Her smile widened ever so slightly, her confidence radiating. “Good,” she said, her tone light yet purposeful. “Let them see.”

He was not just attentive to Veronica. he seemed to orbit her, his focus unwavering as they moved through the crowd. Every glance, every subtle touch of his hand at her back, spoke volumes. He wasn’t merely accompanying her—he was protecting her, presenting her as a queen to be revered.

Whenever someone approached Veronica, whether an old acquaintance or a curious stranger, James was quick to position himself subtly by her side. His posture was calm yet firm, his expression courteous but unreadable. He had a way of commanding respect without uttering a single word, and it was clear that no one dared to cross a line.

Veronica, for her part, maintained her composure with effortless grace. She greeted everyone with a poised smile and sharp wit, her aura one of a woman who was untouchable yet magnetic. But it didn’t escape her notice how James's attentiveness had an edge tonight, as though he were more aware of the watchful eyes around them.

As the gala progressed, she caught sight of someone she hadn’t seen in years—her old friend, Cassandra Whitmore, a prominent interior designer who had always been in the same social circles. Cassandra waved subtly, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Veronica leaned toward James, her voice low. "There’s someone I need to speak with. I’ll be at that table," she said, nodding toward Cassandra’s direction.

James’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze sweeping over the room as if mentally assessing every potential interaction. "Alright," he said finally, his voice calm but tinged with an underlying protectiveness. "Don’t be too long."

Veronica gave him a small, reassuring smile before walking gracefully toward Cassandra’s table.

Cassandra rose as she approached, pulling her into a warm embrace. "Veronica Morgan," Cassandra teased, her voice tinged with mischief. "You’re as stunning as ever. It’s about time you showed up at one of these events."

Veronica chuckled softly, sitting down beside her friend. "I’ve been...occupied."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, her expression both curious and playful. "Occupied, indeed. The entire room is buzzing about you and James. And the rumors...interesting, to say the least."

Veronica’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes sharpened. "I expected nothing less," she said evenly. "But you know better than to believe idle gossip, Cass."

Cassandra laughed, leaning in conspiratorially. "Of course, but it’s still fascinating to watch. You and James look...different tonight. Closer, somehow. Did something change?"

Veronica hesitated for a brief moment, choosing her words carefully. "Let’s just say we’ve reached a better understanding."

They spent the next few minutes catching up, their conversation shifting from personal updates to business ventures. Cassandra’s laughter rang out a few times, drawing a few curious glances their way. It was clear to anyone watching that the two women shared a bond that went beyond superficial acquaintance.

Meanwhile, across the room, James kept a discreet eye on his wife. Though engaged in conversation with a business partner, his gaze flickered to her table occasionally, ensuring she was comfortable. He noticed how Veronica’s posture softened with her friend, a rare sight that intrigued him.

As the conversation wound down, Cassandra squeezed Veronica’s hand. "You’ve got this, Veronica. Whatever the whispers say, you’re always ten steps ahead of everyone else. And if anyone dares to cross you, well..." She smirked. "I’d pay to see how you handle them."

As the conversation shifted to a lighter tone, Cassandra's teasing smile turned contemplative. She swirled the wine in her glass, watching Veronica closely.

"Veronica," Cassandra began, her voice tinged with curiosity, "can I ask you something?"

Veronica arched a perfectly sculpted brow, intrigued. "You usually do, Cassandra. What’s on your mind?"

She leaned in slightly, her tone lowering to match the intimacy of the moment. "Do you...feel something for James? I mean, romantically?"

Veronica blinked, the question catching her off guard. For a moment, she seemed to consider her response carefully, her expression unreadable.

Cassandra chuckled, shaking her head. "Don’t look so surprised. You’re married to one of the most sought-after men in this room. Any woman would love to be in your position. Handsome, successful, and judging by how he’s been watching you all night, he’s not exactly indifferent to you."

Veronica’s lips pressed into a thin line, a slight hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "That’s a rather presumptive question, Cassandra. James and I...have an understanding."

Cassandra tilted her head, her expression a mixture of intrigue and disbelief. "An understanding? That sounds as romantic as a business merger. But let me rephrase—do you want to feel something for him? Or is this just another one of those roles you’ve mastered playing?"

Veronica hesitated, her fingers grazing the rim of her glass. The truth was complex, layered beneath years of carefully built walls and unspoken emotions. "James and I are...different," she finally said, her voice measured. "And our relationship isn’t something I’d expect anyone else to understand."

"I know you’ve built walls around yourself. I can see it in the way you carry yourself, always so composed, so untouchable. But you know, it’s not that scary to let yourself fall in love."

Veronica’s brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of discomfort flashing across her face. "I don’t see why everyone assumes I’m afraid, Cassandra. I’ve built a life that works for me. That’s enough."

Her friend tilted her head, her gaze both understanding and challenging. "Is it? Truly?" She paused, letting the question linger. "Falling in love isn’t about losing control or giving up your independence. It’s about allowing yourself to feel something raw and real. It’s a beautiful feeling. You shouldn’t stop yourself from experiencing it."

Veronica’s lips parted, but no words came out. For a moment, she looked almost vulnerable, the weight of Cassandra’s words pressing into her.

Cassandra smiled warmly, her hand giving her a reassuring squeeze. "You’re stronger than you think. Love doesn’t make you weak—it makes you human. And if there’s even a chance that James might be the one who can break through those walls, why not give it a try? What’s the worst that can happen?"