His Contract Wife, His Secret Heirs

Chapter 3

Evelyn's Pov

The murmurs in the room grew and not long after, I could make out each and every word they were saying. The "loyal wife" image I had spent three years building was dissolving. I felt physically sick. I wanted to throw up from disgust. Rhysander still hadn't moved. His hand was a ghost at my waist, present but entirely devoid of the possessive heat it had held moments ago.

"Rhysander," I whispered, but he didn't even blink.

Amanda turned her gaze toward me for the first time, her eyes filled with a predatory glee. "I’ll take it from here, Evelyn. You've been paid for your services, haven't you? Why don't you run along and let the adults talk?"

I felt a surge of cold anger surge through me. If I didn't leave this place, the feelings I always kept subdued in me would flare up, and I didn't want that. "I need to use the ladies' room," I said to Rhysander, pushing his hands away from my waist and stepping away from him.

As I stepped away, Amanda reached out, her fingers like claws as she gripped my forearm. "Leaving so soon? I suppose the help always knows when their shift is over. It's good that you know when to leave, don't try to take over something that isn't yours.” She finished, her eyes were like daggers glaring into me.

That stopped me. The room went dead silent.

All these years, I thought that the woman Rhysander was in love with would be a woman who knew how to treat others right. A woman who had sense and propriety. But seeing this woman in front of me, she was nothing but a silly child throwing a tantrum.

I slowly turned to face her, peeling her hand off my arm with a strength that made her blink.

"Amanda, was it?" I asked, my voice projecting to every corner of the room. "You spent three years away, yet you seem to have spent every second of it obsessing over my marriage. That’s a lot of energy for someone who claims to be so superior."

Amanda’s smirk faltered. "How dare you…?"

"Shut your mouth Miss White. Despite the divorce, I am still Mrs. Bert for the next twelve hours," I interrupted, stepping into her space until she was forced to lean back. "And if you continue to make a scene at my husband’s birthday gala, I will use every resource at my disposal to ensure that 'fire' you’re so proud of is extinguished. Since no one here will correct your silly attitude then I will help you with it. I built this reputation with my own hands. Don't test me, or I'll destroy yours before the sun rises."

The shock on her face mirrored the one on Rhysander's face and for once, since she came in, he finally met my eyes again. But I didn't wait for a response. I turned and walked toward the restroom.

Inside the ladies room, I leaned against the sink and breathed. My reflection looked back at me, shaking, pale, and utterly heartbroken despite my brave words earlier. I stayed there for more than twenty minutes, splashing cold water on my face, trying to find the strength to walk out and say one final goodbye.

“Okay, Evelyn. You can do this. You're stronger than this. You can do it.” I said to myself multiple times, repeating like a mantra.

When I finally left the restroom, the party sounded like it had shifted. The music was louder, and people were laughing happily. But as I passed a service corridor, I saw something. A waiter was half-dragging, half-carrying a slumped figure toward the elevators. The back was familiar. The broad shoulders, the dark hair and the scent. His scent.

"Rhysander?" I whispered.

I followed them. When the waiter reached one of the suites in the hotel, and it wasn't the one Rhysander had booked for the night, he fumbled with the key card. He didn't look like he was helping a drunk man; he looked like he was planning something.

"Wait!" I shouted.

The waiter turned, panic in his eyes. Before he could react, I swung my heavy designer clutch, hitting him square in the temple. He went down hard. I grabbed Rhysander as he began to fall and let him lean on something, then I took the waiter and kicked him into the room he was trying to open. Then I immediately went back to Rhysander. He was burning up, his skin slick with sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I managed to drag him into the room we had booked and away from the other room. Thankfully, it wasn't too far.

"Rhysander, look at me," I pleaded, hauling him onto the bed.

His eyes were glazed, the pupils blown wide. "Evelyn?" he groaned, his voice a distorted rasp. "Evelyn… Everything... It's too hot. I can't..."

He grabbed my wrists, his grip bruising. I realized instantly, he hadn't been drinking. He had been drugged. Drinking wouldn't make him act like this. Rhysander was always a man of self control, he never drank too much, no matter what happened, even though his love had come back, he still wouldn't drink this much. I know it.

"I'll call a doctor," I said, reaching for the phone.

"No," he growled, pulling me down onto the bed with him. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his heat searing through my gown. "Don't go. Please. Evelyn... help me."

"Rhysander, you're not yourself. We shouldn't…"

"I want you," he whispered against my skin, his voice breaking with a vulnerability I had never heard. "Not the contract. You. Just once... let it be real. Please."

My resolve shattered. I knew I would regret this. I know he was just talking from the alcohol and the drugs. I knew that in the morning, the light would bring the divorce and Amanda and the cold reality of our lives. But as he kissed me with a desperation that matched my own hidden love, I gave in and let him do whatever he wanted to me. After all, this was the only thing I had actually decided for myself ever since I had married him.

***********

I woke up while the room was still bathed in the light of dawn. The bed was a mess and Rhysander was still fast asleep, his face peaceful, a stray lock of hair falling over his forehead. My heart ached so fiercely I could barely breathe.

I dressed in silence, my movements robotic. As I reached for my bag, my phone buzzed.

Digital Signature Confirmed: Divorce Finalized.

It was over. The timing was almost poetic. I looked at Rhysander one last time. I wanted to wake him, to ask him if he meant what he said in the dark, but I knew better. He had been drugged; his words were the fever talking. I couldn't bear to see the regret in his eyes when he realized he had slept with the "contract wife" he was supposed to be rid of.

I had already booked my flight weeks ago. My bags were already at the airport; I had nothing left in that mansion but ghosts. I took off my wedding ring and placed it on the nightstand. The only thing I kept was the diamond necklace from our anniversary. It was the only thing that felt like it belonged to me.

I slipped out of the room and into the quiet hallway. By the time Rhysander woke up, I would be halfway across the ocean. I was leaving the man I loved behind but I didn't look back. I had three years of a life to go and find. But as usual, I had no idea that one night of answering to my own wishes, would lead me to a reward I never wished for.