Silent Revenge

Chapter 2

Lucid was already sitting in the back of the car, looking strikingly handsome as always. His posture

was relaxed, confident like always.The faint glow from his phone illuminated his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jawline and the cold precision in his eyes.

He didn’t look up when I opened the door.

I slid into the seat beside him, careful to keep a small distance between us. The scent of his cologne filled the car familiar and expensive.For a moment, I wondered if he wore it just to remind me of everything I couldn’t escape.

“You’re late,” he said flatly, still scrolling through his phone.

“Only by two minutes,” I replied quietly.

"What is with the attitude."He said putting his phone down and glancing at me. His gaze traveled from my hair to the neckline of my dress, lingering just long enough to make my body move.

“You chose the red one,” he said, his tone romantic

“You told me to.”

He smiled faintly. “I didn’t think you still listened.Are you still angry at me."

I turned my head toward the window, pretending to watch the blur of city lights rushing by. His question lingered in the air like smoke soft, dangerous, impossible to ignore.

“Angry?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. “Is that what you think this is?”

Lucid’s reflection in the glass shifted as he tilted his head, studying me. “Then what is it?” he asked. His tone was calm, but I could hear the warning beneath it the kind of calm that came before a storm.

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the edge of my clutch.

“It’s disappointment,” I said finally. “In you. In myself. In everything this marriage has turned into.”

Lucid didn’t move. His gaze stayed fixed on me, sharp and unreadable. The corner of his mouth twitched.

“You talk like we ever had anything real,” he said after a long pause.

I turned to face him, meeting his eyes even though it hurt to. “Yes,” I whispered. “I know we don’t. But not my best friend, Lucid. Anyone but her.”

For a moment, there was only silence the kind that stretches until you can hear your own heartbeat. Then his lips parted, and the words that came next felt like a blade.

“She’s pregnant.”

My breath caught. The world seemed to tilt, the air inside the car suddenly too heavy to breathe.

I searched his face for any sign of remorse, any flicker of hesitation but there was nothing. His expression remained perfectly composed, almost detached.

The silence that followed was unbearable. My fingers trembled in my lap, gripping the fabric of my dress until my knuckles turned white.

“Lucid…” I started, but the rest of my words died in my throat.

He leaned back against the seat, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead. “I thought you should hear it from me,” he said simply.

The car rolled on in silence, but inside me everything shattered.

The rest of the drive passed in silence. My fingers dug into my palm as I tried to keep from shaking. Pregnant. The word replayed over and over in my mind, sharp and merciless.

When the car finally slowed to a stop, I forced myself to breathe. Through the tinted window, I could see the mansion lit up.

The driver stepped out and hurried to open our door. Lucid moved first, buttoning his jacket with the same calm precision he used for everything. He glanced back at me.

“Fix your face,” he said quietly. “My mother can read emotions like a lie detector.”

I swallowed hard, blinking away the sting in my eyes. Then I slipped on the mask the one I’d perfected over years of pretending.

Lucid extended his hand toward me, not as a gesture of affection, but as part of the performance. I placed my hand in his, my pulse trembling beneath my skin, and stepped out of the car into the cool night air.

“Mr. and Mrs. Deveraux!” someone called from the entrance. Cameras flashed. Lucid’s grip on my hand tightened a silent command.

Lucid kept my hand in his as we mingled through the crowd. He laughed when expected, nodded politely when spoken to. And I followed smiling, nodding, pretending while inside, I was unraveling.

We finally reached the entrance of the ceremony hall. As the doors swung open, the soft hum of conversation and the faint melody of a violin spilled out to greet us. Warm light flooded the corridor, brushing against my skin.

Inside, the hall wasn’t crowded just a small gathering of family and close friends. Still, it felt suffocating. Every face turned toward us the moment we stepped in, every pair of eyes filled with polite curiosity and admiration. To them, we were the perfect couple Lucid Deveraux and his graceful wife, the embodiment of poise and success.

Lucid’s hand rested lightly on the small of my back as he guided me forward, his touch practiced and possessive. His smile was effortless, the kind that made people believe he was everything a woman could want.

I smiled too. Because that’s what was expected.

The chandelier above cast a golden glow over the marble floor, reflecting our silhouettes two people moving in perfect sync, yet miles apart in everything that mattered.

Lucid’s parents stood near the center of the room, surrounded by well-wishers. His father was laughing heartily, while his mother’s sharp eyes darted in our direction the moment she noticed us.

“Ah, there they are!” she exclaimed with delight that sounded rehearsed. “Lucid, darling, you’ve kept us waiting.”

Lucid leaned in to kiss her cheek, his charm switching on like a light. “You look stunning, Mother. Happy anniversary.”

Then her gaze turned to me. That same polite smile, the same careful inspection. “And you, dear,” she said, taking my hands briefly, “always so elegant. We’re so glad you could make it.”

I wanted to laugh at that. As if I had a choice.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said instead

Lucid’s fingers brushed mine again a silent warning to stay composed, which made me rolled my eyes.

Lucid pulled out a chair for me, the perfect gentleman, and I sat down.

His mother sat at the head of the table, radiant in pearls, her laughter as deliberate as everything she did. His father kept the mood light with jokes, occasionally boasting about Lucid’s latest business venture. The room seemed to orbit around him the golden son, the ideal man.

And me? Just his shadow, the quiet ornament beside him.

“Lucid,” his father said, raising his glass. “To you and your lovely wife may you bring as much grace to our family as we’ve had these years.”

“To forever,” they chanted in unison, their voices echoing softly beneath the chandelier.

As the laughter resumed and the music shifted into something softer, Lucid’s father rose from his seat, clapping a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Come, Lucid,there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Lucid stood immediately, straightening his jacket. His expression was the perfect mix of charm and composure. I followed him quietly,my heels clicking against the marble floor as we made our way toward the far end of the hall.

“Ah, there he is!” Lucid’s father announced proudly, “Mr. Jason Cole one of our most valuable partners. Jason, this is my son, Lucid, and his wife.”

Jason.

The name hit me like a slap. For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

He was standing right there dressed in a perfectly tailored gray suit that fit him like it was made for the man he’d become. His hair was slicked back neatly, the same familiar shade I used to run my fingers through once upon a time.

What the hell was he doing here?

My pulse quickened, and for a moment the room felt too bright, the air too thin. Lucid’s father kept talking, his words muffled behind the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Jason’s gaze found mine. Calm. Steady. Too steady. Then that smile. The one I’d once trusted, the one I never thought I’d see again.

“Mrs. Deveraux,” he said smoothly, extending his hand. His tone was polite, professional but there was something beneath it. Something that made my stomach twist.

I hesitated, then placed my hand in his. His grip was firm, warmr. For a moment, the noise of the room faded, and all I could hear was the sound of my own breath catching.

“Jason Cole,” he introduced himself formally, though he knew I didn’t need the reminder. “It’s an honor to finally meet you both."

Lucid’s father chuckled. “Small world, isn’t it?”

Lucid, oblivious or pretending to be, simply nodded and shook Jason’s hand. “Pleasure, Mr. Cole.”

Jason’s eyes lingered on mine for a fraction too long before he turned to Lucid, his polite smile returning.

“The pleasure’s mine,” he said smoothly.