The Man I Married Twice

CHAPTER 10 — THE DINNER TABLE

We were ushered into the dining hall.

The table stretched across the room—a long expanse of dark mahogany polished to a mirror shine. A cream silk damask runner embroidered in gold ran down its center, lined with crystal candlesticks whose flames burned steady and controlled.

Everything about it felt deliberate.

The cutlery was arranged with near-military precision—gold-rimmed porcelain plates, layered settings, three forks to the left, two knives and a spoon to the right. Crystal glasses stood in formation. Even the napkins were folded into perfect crests bearing the Kingsley insignia.

This wasn’t just a table. It was a statement.

We took our seats.

“After you,” Liam said quietly, pulling out the chair beside him. I glanced at him briefly before sitting. “Thank you.”

The arrangement was intentional. Mr. Kingsley at the head. Mrs. Kingsley to his right. My father to his left. My mother beside him. Diana across. Audrey directly opposite me.

Liam to my right. Ethan at the far end facing Liam.

“James,” Mr. Kingsley began smoothly, lifting his glass slightly. “I’m glad the family could join us at such short notice.”

“Not at all,” my father replied easily. “For family, we always make time.”

Family? Diana and I exchanged a quick glance. Everybody here knows what we're here for. There was no need to push the ‘family agenda’ down our throats. My mother, noticing the awkwardness, stepped in quickly, her smile polished. “I must say, Kingsley Manor is stunning. The last time I saw architecture this intimate was at the coronation of King Frederik Alaric of Sweden.”

We all did our turns of exchanging pleasantries. The performance had begun. Dinner started with roasted butternut squash soup. The moment the bowls were placed before us, conversation stopped. Not naturally. Deliberately.

We were being watched. Even in how we lifted our spoons.

I took a careful bite. Smooth. Balanced. Perfect.

“Melissa.” I looked up. Mrs. Kingsley had folded her hands neatly, her gaze fixed on me. “Your name is quite uniquely situated.”

I nodded slightly. “I’ve heard that before.”

“I’ve always fancied Greek mythology,” she continued.

“There was a nymph… who cared for Zeus.”

“Yes,” I replied evenly. “She was transformed into a bee.”

“Ah,” she smiled faintly. “Considering it directly translates to honey bee, you must have a sweet personality.” Mr. Kingsley said with a polished laugh. My parents followed politely.

I offered a composed smile. “Sweetness depends on the hive, I suppose.”

A flicker of approval passed across Margaret’s face. I passed the first test.

Then— “I reviewed your profile,” she said smoothly. There it was.

“My, my. Harvard. Impressive. I graduated c*m laude myself.” The air tightened slightly. She was not reminiscing. She was measuring.

“I studied Art History and Visual Culture,” I replied calmly. “My thesis focused on the construction of female identity in Renaissance portraiture and its evolution in modern media.”

Ethan’s fork paused midair. Margaret tilted her head slightly. “That’s… unexpectedly relevant.”

“I’ve always been interested in who controls the image,” I added. “And who benefits from it.” Something passed through Ethan’s eyes. It was very quick.

“Speaking of image,” Audrey cut in lightly, swirling her wine, “are you planning to continue acting after the marriage?” I looked at her. Her smile was pleasant but her eyes were not.

“Kingsley wives rarely remain… public figures,” she added.

I glanced briefly at Liam before answering. “I don’t believe marriage requires erasure,” I said gently. “If anything, it should allow both people to grow.” I folded my hands neatly.

“My career is part of who I am. I wouldn’t expect Liam to diminish himself for me. I hope he wouldn’t expect the same.”

There was a pause. Then he said, “I agree.” Everyone's attention shifted. His voice was calm. “Partnership works best when both people are heard.” For a moment, something softened in the air.

‘Partnership’, at least he was honest enough to know this wasn't a marriage. I was about to make a point on mutual understanding then Mrs. Kingsley interjected, smiling with controlled grace.

“Of course. Melissa, you may continue your… creative pursuits,” she said. “Within reason.”

Within reason.

We had just finished the starters. At this point, I felt no pressure, only clarity. I understood the rules of this game. And from the faint curve of Margaret’s lips, I suspected she knew it too.

The main course arrived. Herb-crusted lamb. Dauphinoise potatoes. Roasted asparagus. Wine was poured. Conversation shifted from business to markets to Audrey’s gala. Then—

“Oh.” Audrey’s voice cut through again. Casual and lazy. “Melissa, Liam didn’t mention the Foundation Gala tradition, did he?”

I frowned slightly. “No.” We barely had 2 conversations.

She tilted her head. “We always invite former partners.”

She spoke with intention. “We believe in… dignified continuity.”

My fingers tightened slightly around my fork.Across from me, Audrey smiled. Satisfied. “Liam didn’t mention that?” she added softly.

The musicians faltered for half a second before recovering

Just then, a tall middle-aged man in a tailored navy suit approached. I recognized him from news articles. Mr. Jones Alden, Jacob Kingsley’s personal assistant. He moved to Mr. Kingsley’s side and leaned in, whispering something too low for the rest of us to hear. This time, the reaction was immediate. He set his glass down with deliberate calm. “The board has revised its position,” he said. Something in his tone made my stomach tighten. “They believe a prolonged engagement invites unnecessary risk. You know, media speculation, market instability, external interference.”

He continued, “The wedding will be moved forward.”

My head snapped slightly toward him. “Moved… forward?” I echoed before I could stop myself. Mrs. Kingsley didn’t even look surprised.

“They’ve advised it be held within the month,” she added smoothly. “Before the next fiscal announcements.”

Within the month. My parents froze. Diana’s hand tightened around her napkin. Even Audrey’s brows lifted slightly—just for a second—before her composure returned.

But Liam, he didn’t react. Not outwardly. I didn't see any tension or surprise in his face. Just stillness. As if this had always been inevitable. Or worse—As if he had expected it.

My pulse started to race. This wasn’t an engagement anymore. It was a countdown. And then while I was fidgeting my fingers under the table—I felt it. His hand covering mine.

Warm. Steady. Intentional.

I froze.

He still didn’t look at me. But his grip tightened just slightly.

Dinner ended not long after that. Polite. Controlled. As if nothing had shifted. But everything had. We stood. Chairs slid back in quiet unison. “Thank you for joining us,” Margaret said, her voice smooth as ever. My father nodded. “The pleasure was ours.” All lies, carefully dressed lies.

We began moving toward the exit, the tension thinning just enough to breathe again. Almost like the night was finally over. Then the doors opened suddenly. The sound cut through the room like glass breaking.

A woman stood at the entrance. Elegant. Composed.

Unshaken by the attention she had just stolen. I recognized her instantly. Not from memory but from headlines, interviews, carefully curated photographs.

Andrea Miller—Daughter of Senator Charles Miller. Director of the prestigious Miller Contemporary Gallery. Socialite. Philanthropist.

I wonder why she came to the Kingsley Manor, especially at this time of the day.

Her gaze moved slowly across the room.Until—

It landed on Liam. And stayed there.