Dumped My Cheating Husband, Married a s*x God

Chapter 14

The car door opened, and Adrian stepped out first, his hand extended back to help me. I took it, my palm damp against his, and emerged into the crisp morning air. The estate was even more imposing up close—the stone facade weathered by time but impeccably maintained, the windows reflecting the pale blue sky like mirrors of polished glass.

"Ready?" Adrian asked, his thumb brushing reassuringly over my knuckles.

"No," I admitted.

He smiled—that devastating, knee-weakening smile that had become far too familiar in the past two days. "Good."

Before I could ask what he meant by that, the massive front door swung open, and a woman stepped out onto the portico. She was elegant in a way that transcended age, her silver hair swept into a sophisticated chignon, her figure draped in a silk dress the color of midnight blue. Pearls circled her throat, and her eyes—dark, sharp, unmistakably Adrian's—lit up the moment they landed on us.

"Adrian!" she called, her voice carrying across the driveway with surprising warmth. "And this must be Selena. Oh, come here, child, let me look at you."

She descended the steps with the grace of a woman who had spent her life in ballrooms and boardrooms, her arms already opening in welcome. I stiffened instinctively, bracing for the judgment I'd faced from Alex's mother—the sneering comments about my orphan status, the barely veiled contempt, the constant reminders that I wasn't good enough for her precious son.

But Mrs. Vale enveloped me in a hug that smelled of lavender and expensive perfume, her arms surprisingly strong as she squeezed me against her.

"You're even more beautiful than Adrian described," she murmured against my hair, then pulled back to cup my face in her hands. Her eyes searched mine with an intensity that should have been intimidating but somehow felt... caring. "And those eyes. Such fire. No wonder my son finally lost his mind."

"Mother," Adrian said, a warning edge in his voice.

She waved him off without looking at him. "Oh, hush. I've been waiting thirty-two years to embarrass you in front of a woman. Let me have my moment."

Thirty-two years. Adrian is thirty-two. He's older than I expected.

A man emerged from the doorway behind her—tall, distinguished, with the same dark hair as Adrian though streaked with silver at the temples. Mr. Vale, I assumed. He walked with the confident stride of a man who had built empires and torn down competitors without breaking a sweat.

"So this is the girl who finally caught our Adrian," he said, his voice deep and resonant. He didn't hug me, but he took my hand and pressed a courtly kiss to my knuckles, his eyes twinkling with something between amusement and genuine delight. "We'd given up hope, you know. Thought the boy would die alone with nothing but his spreadsheets and his temper."

"Father," Adrian groaned, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Seeing him flustered was... novel. Almost endearing.

"It's true!" Mrs. Vale chimed in, linking her arm through mine and guiding me toward the door as if we'd known each other for years instead of seconds. "Do you know how many women we've thrown at him over the years? Daughters of colleagues, heiresses, models, actresses—"

"Mother, please—"

"—and he never gave a single one of them the time of day!" She squeezed my arm affectionately, leaning close as if sharing a secret. "We honestly started to worry he wasn't interested in women at all. We were prepared to accept whatever made him happy, of course, but secretly your father and I were devastated at the thought of never having grandchildren."

I stumbled on the threshold, my heel catching on the marble. Adrian caught my other arm, steadying me, and I looked up at him with wide eyes.

Not interested in women?

This man? The same man who had pinned me to his bed and made me scream his name? The same man whose stamina had left me barely able to walk the next morning? The same man who had covered me in bite marks like he was trying to claim every inch of my skin?

I must have been staring, because Adrian's ears turned slightly pink—the first hint of embarrassment I'd ever seen on him. "My parents exaggerate," he muttered.

"We do not!" Mrs. Vale protested, leading me into a grand foyer that could have housed my entire apartment building. A crystal chandelier the size of a small car hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting prismatic light across marble floors and oil paintings that looked old enough to belong in museums. "He never brought anyone home. Never mentioned a woman's name. Never even looked at anyone during the society events we dragged him to."

She turned to me then, her expression softening into something almost maternal. "And then he called us last night and said, 'I'm married.' Just like that. No warning, no engagement announcement, no months of planning. Married."

"It was... sudden," I offered weakly, not knowing what else to say.

"It was perfect," Mrs. Vale declared. "The best things always are."

Mr. Vale clapped Adrian on the shoulder with enough force to make him wince. "About time, son. About damn time."

We moved deeper into the house, Mrs. Vale chattering about the lunch preparations—roasted lamb, her famous rosemary potatoes, a chocolate torte that Adrian had apparently loved since childhood. The warmth of it all was disorienting. I'd expected cold formality, subtle interrogation, the kind of judgmental assessment that came with old money and older expectations. But the Vales were treating me like... family. Like someone they were genuinely happy to welcome into their lives.

"We have gifts for you," Mrs. Vale announced as we entered a sitting room furnished with antique furniture and fresh flower arrangements. She gestured to a side table where several velvet boxes were arranged in a neat row. "Nothing extravagant, just a few things to welcome you to the family."

"Gifts?" I repeated, my stomach sinking. "Mrs. Vale, I—I didn't bring anything. I'm so sorry, I didn't even think—this was all so sudden, and I didn't have time to prepare—"

"Nonsense." She waved off my apology with a graceful flick of her wrist. "You're the gift, dear. The only one that matters. But here—"

She pressed the first box into my hands. Inside lay a bracelet of platinum and sapphires, the stones deep and vivid as midnight ocean. The second box held earrings to match, delicate drops that would brush against the jawline. The third contained a brooch—an antique piece, she explained, that had belonged to Adrian's grandmother.

"I can't accept these," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. They were too much. Too valuable. Too real. "They're family heirlooms. I haven't earned them."

"You've earned them simply by existing," Mrs. Vale said firmly, closing my fingers around the bracelet box. "By being the woman who finally saw what we saw in our son. By making him smile."

I looked at Adrian, standing slightly apart with his father, and realized with a jolt that he was smiling right now. A small, private smile directed at me, filled with something I couldn't name but that made my chest ache with an unfamiliar warmth.

"I didn’t plan this," I said, my voice softer now, a hint of apology threading through it as I extended the box in my hands. Silver paper, neatly folded. A ribbon tied just right. "It’s a bit impromptu. I hope you’ll accept it."

My fingers tightened slightly around it before I let go, placing it into Mrs. Vale’s hands.

Adrian had given it to me in the car while I fidgeted. I'm grateful he always thinks two steps ahead, or else, how was I supposed to respond after all these gifts?

"You didn’t have to bring anything," Mrs. Vale said, her tone warm as she began to unwrap it.

"I know," I replied, offering a small smile. "I’ll bring something better next time. Something more thoughtful."

Though I secretly hope coming over won't become an important criteria in this make-believe marriage.

The lid lifted, a velvet-lined case came into view. Nestled inside was a delicate gold brooch, its surface shaped into a blooming camellia, the petals traced with fine detail and a small pearl resting at its center. It was quiet and elegant, a good pick.

"Oh," she breathed, her face lighting up. "This is beautiful."

I sighed in relief. Face successfully saved.

Just when I thought the worse was over, a young girl stumbled inside, breathless, her dark hair windswept and her cheeks flushed pink. She wore a simple sundress and carried a backpack slung over one shoulder, looking for all the world like she'd just run a marathon to get here.

"Sorry I'm late!" she gasped, bending over to catch her breath. "The bus broke down and I had to walk the last mile and—"

She straightened, her eyes sweeping the room. Realization spread across her face when she saw me

"You..."