Chapter 6 - The Dinner Table
1462 Words
The Laurent estate had always felt larger at night.
Not grander.
Just heavier.
The chandeliers cast gold across polished marble floors, across portraits of men who had built empires and lost them, across women who had smiled through wars no one ever wrote about.
Emma stood at the entrance beside Dominic Sterling, her fingers lightly curled around her clutch. She could feel his presence beside her like a shadow that refused to detach.
Edward Laurent waited at the head of the long dining hall, thinner than she remembered from last month. Chemotherapy had hollowed his cheeks slightly, but his eyes were still sharp.
Still calculating.
Still proud.
“Dominic,” Edward greeted smoothly, extending a hand.
Dominic stepped forward, composed as ever. His handshake was firm. Controlled. Respectful, but never subordinate.
“Mr. Laurent.”
Emma noticed it again—the subtle tension beneath civility.
Edward’s gaze flicked to her stomach for half a second before returning to Dominic’s face.
“Congratulations,” Edward said. “I heard the news.”
Dominic’s hand moved instinctively to the small of Emma’s back.
“She’ll be well taken care of.”
Not we.
She.
Emma forced a polite smile.
Across the room, Adrian Laurent leaned casually against the fireplace. Her stepbrother had inherited Edward’s sharp features but none of his restraint. His gaze lingered on Dominic with something that looked almost like amusement.
“You’ve been busy,” Adrian said coolly. “Missed you at the board meeting.”
“I had other priorities,” Dominic replied evenly.
Emma caught the shift in air.
Adrian and Dominic had once been inseparable. Business school. Shared investments. Shared secrets.
Until Dominic had abruptly cut him off.
Until he had stopped taking his calls.
Until he had stopped seeing Stephanie Laurent.
Stephanie appeared moments later, graceful and composed, her expression unreadable as she greeted them.
“Emma,” she said sweetly, leaning in for an air-kiss. “You look radiant.”
Emma knew that tone.
It was the same tone Stephanie had used years ago when she had assumed Dominic would propose to her.
Instead, he had proposed to Emma.
The betrayal had not only been romantic.
It had been strategic.
They moved to the table.
Dinner began with quiet elegance—silverware against porcelain, polite conversation, market updates.
Then Edward cleared his throat.
“I’ve been considering restructuring my shares,” he said casually, cutting into his steak. “For stability.”
Emma felt Dominic go still beside her.
Subtle.
But noticeable.
“In light of your health?” Dominic asked smoothly.
Edward smiled faintly. “In light of uncertainty.”
Adrian leaned back. “Thirty percent is a dangerous number. Enough to control, not enough to protect.”
Emma’s fork paused mid-air.
Dominic’s voice remained calm. “Control is protection.”
Edward’s gaze sharpened. “Is that what you believe?”
Dominic held it without blinking. “It’s what experience teaches.”
Silence.
Stephanie broke it with a soft laugh. “Let’s not turn family dinner into a boardroom.”
Family.
The word felt ironic.
Emma felt her father’s eyes drift toward her again.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Edward observed.
She swallowed. “Just tired.”
Dominic answered before she could elaborate. “She needs rest.”
Possessive.
Protective.
Controlling.
Adrian smirked faintly. “You’ve always liked control, Dominic.”
Dominic didn’t react.
“I prefer efficiency.”
Emma saw it clearly now.
The layers.
The long game.
The marriage wasn’t romance.
It was infiltration.
And tonight, she was watching two generals discuss territory over dessert.
As they stood to leave, Edward touched Emma’s arm gently.
“Be careful who you trust,” he murmured softly.
Her breath caught.
“Is that advice?” she asked.
“It’s experience.”
She didn’t know which side he meant.
⸻
The drive back was quiet.
Dominic’s hand rested on her thigh.
Not affection.
Ownership.
“You were distracted,” he said finally.
“You were calculating,” she replied.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“You went into my office this morning.”
Again, not a question.
“Yes.”
“And you still came to dinner.”
“Yes.”
He turned his head slowly to look at her.
“That was deliberate.”
“Yes.”
Silence stretched.
“Good,” he said softly.
The mansion gates opened.
The house lights were on.
All of them.
Emma frowned slightly.
They hadn’t left lights on.
The car stopped.
The front door was ajar.
Dominic noticed immediately.
His posture shifted.
Predator.
He stepped out first.
Emma followed.
They entered together.
And there she was.
Laura.
Sitting on the living room sofa.
Shoes off.
Back straight.
Like she belonged there.
Like she had waited.
Emma’s heart didn’t break.
It hardened.
Laura stood slowly.
Her eyes were red, but not from weakness.
From obsession.
She didn’t look at Emma.
She walked straight to Dominic.
And wrapped her arms around him.
Familiar.
Intimate.
Like muscle memory.
Emma froze.
For half a second—
Dominic did not move.
That half second carved something permanent inside her.
Then his hands came up.
He peeled Laura’s arms off him.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
His fingers wrapped around her wrist.
Tight.
“How dare you threaten my wife, how dare you sent all those messages to her. ” he said quietly, dangerously, “and then walk into my house.”
Laura’s lip trembled.
“My love… what messages? You know me. I would never hurt you. Why would I send messages to your wife ?”
Emma felt it.
Not my best friend.
Not Emma.
Your wife.
Her best friend was gone.
This woman in front of her was someone else.
Emma stepped forward.
Her voice was cold. Calm.
“I don’t expect your mistress in my home. She loves you? My best friend is dead. The woman I knew would never have slept with my husband. The woman I knew would have never betrayed me like this.”
She looked Laura in the eyes.
“This is not my Laura.”
Laura laughed softly through tears.
“Emma babe… this is your problem. You make everything about yourself.”
Emma didn’t flinch.
Laura turned back to Dominic.
“You haven’t told her? About the nights? The hotels? The way you said my name?”
Dominic’s grip tightened.
Laura continued, voice shaking now but relentless.
“You told me I understood you. That she never did. You said I was different. Now she knows about us, leave her.. finally we can be together .”
Emma’s stomach twisted.
Laura smiled faintly.
“I was your favorite.”
The room went still.
Dead still.
Dominic’s voice was low.
“Favorite?”
Laura’s chin lifted slightly. “Yes.”
The slap came without warning.
Sharp.
Controlled.
Not wild.
Judgment.
Laura staggered slightly.
Dominic’s voice did not rise.
“Leave??”
Her eyes widened.
“Dominic—”
“Leave my pregnant wife.”
The words were clear.
Strategic.
Possessive.
Emma’s breath faltered.
Laura’s expression shattered.
“She’s boring,” Laura spat suddenly. “A housewife. A pawn. You loved me. Out of all of them—”
Emma’s head snapped toward Dominic.
“Out of all of them?” she whispered.
Silence.
Dominic didn’t answer fast enough.
That was answer enough.
“What is she talking about, Dominic?” Emma asked
“How many?” Emma asked.
Laura laughed bitterly. “You really don’t know?”
Dominic’s gaze turned lethal.
“Enough,” he said.
But it was too late.
Emma stepped back.
The room felt too small.
Too contaminated.
She looked at Dominic—not broken.
Not pleading.
Just distant.
“How many mistresses do you have?” she asked again, softly.
He didn’t speak.
Her chest tightened.
Not from tears.
From clarity.
Before he could respond—
She turned.
Walked upstairs.
Not running.
Not collapsing.
Walking.
Each step measured.
Dignified.
Behind her, she heard Laura’s sob break into hysteria.
“Dominic, tell her! Tell her you love me!”
Silence.
Then his voice.
Cold as winter.
“Get her out.”
*****
Emma entered her bedroom and locked the door.
She stood in front of the mirror.
Her reflection looked composed.
Too composed.
She placed her hand on her stomach.
A knock came.
Once.
Controlled.
“Emma.”
Dominic’s voice.
She didn’t answer.
Another knock.
“Open the door.”
Silence.
His tone lowered.
“I won’t repeat myself.”
She turned toward the door.
“And I won’t either.”
Silence fell.
He didn’t break it.
For the first time since she had known him…
He didn’t force his way in.
Outside, the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house.
Laura was gone.
But something far worse had taken her place.
Truth.
- Writer
