Chapter two
1329 Words
The morning after the gala felt heavier than any hangover.
Jane woke to silence, the kind that rang louder than any whisper. Her phone screen glowed from the nightstand, already flooded with notifications.
Social media. News alerts. Mentions.
Her name was everywhere.
“Fallen heiress.”
“Socialite abandoned at gala.”
“Francis Reece’s wife humiliated in public.”
The headlines blurred together until they made her sick. She dropped the phone on the sheets and pressed her palms over her face. Her temples throbbed. Every detail of last night replayed like a cruel loop, the murmurs, the flashes of cameras, the pitying looks that cut deeper than insults.
Downstairs, the faint clatter of plates broke the silence. Francis was up. He hadn’t said a word to her since they left the ballroom. He hadn’t looked at her either.
Jane pushed herself out of bed, her body moving before her mind could catch up. She slipped on a robe and walked to the mirror. Her reflection was a stranger swollen eyes, smeared mascara, lips that had forgotten how to smile. The diamond necklace from last night still hung around her neck, mocking her like a reminder of the life she used to have.
She unclasped it and set it gently on the dresser.
The house felt colder as she walked down the hall. The Reece mansion had always been like that.. beautiful, expensive, and hollow. The staff avoided eye contact, their footsteps fading as she passed.
Francis was in the study. She could see him through the glass doors, seated at his desk, perfectly composed, as if last night hadn’t happened at all. His tie was already in place, his phone pressed to his ear, his tone clipped and businesslike.
Jane stopped at the doorway. For a moment, she just watched him, her husband, the man she’d spent five years building a life with. He looked… untouched. Not angry. Not embarrassed. Just done.
When he noticed her, his conversation ended mid-sentence. He placed the phone down and leaned back slightly in his chair.
“Jane,” he said, calm as ever. “You’re awake.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Her voice was soft but sharp. “After what happened last night?”
He didn’t answer immediately. “It’s better not to dwell on it. The more attention you give it, the longer it lasts.”
Her stomach turned. “You think I wanted attention?”
“I think you knew what kind of night it was,” he said evenly. “You shouldn’t have..”
“Shouldn’t have what?” she cut in. “Spoken to someone? Walked away for air? Francis, people were laughing at me. They were whispering about us. You just stood there.”
“I wasn’t going to cause a scene.”
“You already did,” she snapped. “By pretending I didn’t exist.”
The air thickened between them. He exhaled slowly, turning one of the pens on his desk between his fingers.
“You’re overreacting.”
The words hit like a slap. “Overreacting? My humiliation is plastered all over the internet, Francis!”
He looked up finally, eyes cool and distant. “Then stay offline for a few days. It’ll fade.”
Jane’s throat tightened. For years, she had trained herself to be graceful, quiet, composed, the perfect wife to a man who lived for control. But something cracked in her chest.
“You don’t even care, do you?”
He met her gaze but said nothing.
“Do you have any idea what that night meant to me?” she whispered. “It was supposed to be our moment, to remind everyone that we were still strong. But you couldn’t even stand beside me.”
Francis rose slowly from his chair, buttoning his suit jacket. His movements were deliberate, practiced. “You’re making this personal.”
“It is personal!” Jane’s voice rose, echoing off the bookshelves. “It’s our marriage, Francis!”
He paused. “Our marriage stopped being ours a long time ago.”
For a second, neither of them breathed.
Jane stepped closer, her fingers trembling. “So that’s it? You’re just… done?”
He looked past her, toward the window, where morning light spilled across the polished floor. “You’ve changed, Jane. You used to know how to keep your place.”
Her chest caved. “My place? You mean silent? Invisible? Convenient?”
He didn’t answer, but the silence said enough.
“I gave up everything for you,” she said, voice breaking. “My friends, my work, myself. And you don’t even look at me anymore.”
Francis checked his watch. “I have a meeting in ten minutes.”
“Of course you do.” She let out a bitter laugh. “You always have a meeting.”
She moved closer to him, blocking his path. “Just tell me one thing,” she said quietly. “Was any of it real? The way you looked at me when we first met? The things you said when you asked me to marry you?”
His eyes flickered just for a second before hardening again. “You’re being dramatic.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “No, I’m being honest. Something you’ve forgotten how to be.”
Francis picked up his briefcase. “I don’t have time for this.”
Jane’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. “Then maybe that’s our problem. You never do.”
He walked past her, the scent of his cologne sharp in the air. When his hand touched the door handle, she spoke again, quieter now, almost pleading.
“Francis,” she said. “If I meant anything to you, look at me.”
He hesitated.
And for a second, just one, she thought he might turn around.
But he didn’t. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, his footsteps fading until there was nothing left but silence.
Jane stood there, rooted to the spot, her pulse echoing in her ears. Her hands were cold. The light from the window caught on the diamond ring on her finger, and it suddenly felt like a shackle.
She sank onto the edge of his desk, eyes burning. The room still smelled like him cedar and expensive coffee, and she hated it. Every framed certificate, every neat stack of paper, every sign of order mocked the chaos inside her.
She whispered into the emptiness, “You don’t get to walk away from this like it means nothing.”
But the house didn’t answer. It never did.
Upstairs, her phone buzzed again another notification, another headline, another reminder of her public failure. She didn’t go to check. Instead, she looked at the door Francis had just walked through, the space where he used to stand when he’d promise her forever.
Now it was just air.
She drew a long breath and straightened her spine.
If he could walk away so easily, she could too.
But deep down, the ache told her it wouldn’t be that easy, not yet.
Outside, the sound of his car engine started, then faded into the distance. Jane stared out the window, her reflection faint against the morning light.
- Writer
