This Time I Win

Chapter 3

Damian's words came fast after that moment with the fallen necklace.

"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to snap at you." He turned to me, his expression shifting like he'd flipped a switch.

The anger disappeared. In its place was something almost tender. "You have been stressed. I shouldn't have raised my voice."

I wanted to believe him. That was the problem with Damian. He was good at making you want to believe him. So I nodded and said nothing.

The necklace lay on my office floor, and nobody bothered to pick it up.

Nora stood there, still touching her neck where Damian had fastened the clasp. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled.

"This is so beautiful, Sienna," she said, gesturing to the flowers on my desk.

The ones Damian had brought me.

"You are so lucky. Having a husband like that."

I lifted one eyebrow and looked at her. The words were meant to sound innocent, but they weren't. They were a knife wrapped in sugar.

Damian's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and his entire body tensed.

"I need to take this," he said, already moving toward the door.

"I'll be back."

He didn't wait for a response. He just left.

Nora bent down to pick up the necklace and followed him.

I sat at my desk and tried to focus on the spreadsheet in front of me. The numbers blurred together. My hand was shaking, and I couldn't make it stop.

I told myself I was being paranoid. That there was nothing going on. That Damian was just being kind to a new employee.

But I could hear them in the hallway.

Their voices were low, but they were there. I tried to ignore it. I really did. I focused on the spreadsheet. I typed a few numbers. I pretended to work while my heart beats hard in my chest.

I couldn't do it.

I stood up and walked downstairs for a break. I needed water. I needed air. I needed to stop thinking about my husband and my secretary standing close together.

When I reached the ground, I passed the secretary's desk. Nora wasn't there. I headed toward the water dispenser, but before I could get there, I heard it, her voice, bright and excited, coming from the lounge area.

I changed direction.

Nora was standing in the middle of a group of office staff, her neck angled so the light caught the necklace.

"This is a real diamond," she was saying, her fingers touching the stone.

"Not like the costume jewelry you see everywhere. This is the real thing."

The staff around her gasped. Their eyes were wide. They looked at her like she'd suddenly become someone worth knowing.

One of the younger girls reached out. "Can I touch it?"

"Of course not." Nora pulled back, holding the necklace tightly.

"You can't touch it. This is a real diamond."

They gasped again, like she'd just told them she owned a piece of heaven.

That's when they saw me.

Everyone scattered like I'd caught them doing something wrong. They sat down at their desks, suddenly very interested in their work.

The office fell silent except for the sound of papers shuffling and keyboards clicking.

Nora could only swallow her spit. Hard. I saw her throat move. She watched me as I walked past her.

That night, a message came through on my phone.

*Come to the family house tonight. We need to talk.*

It was from Damian.

I stared at the message for a long moment. My first instinct was to ignore it. To stay home and protect myself from whatever was coming.

But then another thought took over, a desperate, hopeful thought that maybe this was a chance. Maybe he wanted to apologize properly. Maybe he wanted to fix things.

Maybe he wanted to be a real husband again.

I stretched my back, feeling the baby shift inside me. The pregnancy had been making everything ache.

Every muscle felt strained. Every emotion felt stronger. But if there was a chance even a small one that Damian wanted to work on us, I had to try.

I grabbed my purse and waved goodbye to the few staff members still in the office. They nodded at me, and I left.

On my way home, I stopped at a boutique on the corner. The window displays were glowing with soft lights.

I walked in and picked out a few dresses. Nothing too fancy. I wanted to look nice, but not desperate. I wanted to look like a wife who still had some pride.

The drive to the family house took forty minutes. By the time I arrived, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The Ashford family estate was massive, all stone and glass and inherited wealth. It was beautiful in the way expensive things are beautiful.

I stepped inside, and the first thing I saw was Morgana.

She was sitting in her favorite chair like a queen on a throne. A maid was massaging her feet. She didn't look up when I entered.

"Why are you just coming?" she asked, her voice sharp.

I didn't answer. I just stared at my feet and felt the familiar weight of her disapproval settle over me like a blanket.

Morgana took a sharp breath in. The kind of breath that meant she was already disappointed.

"It's almost time. Go to the kitchen and cook something for us."

It wasn't a request.

I dropped my bag on a chair and headed toward the kitchen. A maid tried to follow me, but I stopped her.

"I'll love to cook this alone," I said, smiling like I meant it. "Thank you."

I prepared the food carefully. Chicken. Rice. Vegetables. Nothing fancy, but it was good. It was the kind of meal a dutiful wife would make.

I cooked it with the same care I would use if I was trying to win back my husband's heart.

When it was ready, I carried the first pot into the living room and set it on the dining table. I called everyone to eat. Morgana came first, still moving like royalty. Damian appeared a moment later, already on his phone, barely acknowledging me.

I waited for Hannah, Damian's sister. She should have been there by now.

"Where's Hannah?" I asked.

Nobody answered.

I went back to the kitchen to check if she was there. The pots were still on the gas. The food was still hot. I turned back toward the living room when I heard a soft sound from the kitchen.

I turned around.

Hannah was standing there, and her hand was in the pot of food. She was holding a container of salt.

Her eyes met mine, and I watched as she poured it into the chicken.

Not a pinch.

The entire container.

She looked at me like she wanted me to see what she was doing. Like she wanted me to understand.

Then she smiled cold and cruel and walked out of the kitchen like nothing had happened.

I stood there, frozen, staring at the food.