Chapter 8
935 Words
Julia's brows slowly furrowed together.
“This has to be a joke… right?” she asked, her voice tense. A flicker of concern passed between them as she took a cautious step closer. “Cathie, tell me this is a lie. I didn’t hear anything like that. And you know why I’m here—for you.”
Before Cathie could respond, Helena let out a dramatic sigh, full of feigned compassion.
She reached for Cathie’s free hand, holding it as if to offer comfort, her fingers warm and intrusive. Then she lifted it slightly, almost as if presenting proof.
“I’m truly saddened,” Helena began softly, “that my sister was rejected on the very day of her engagement.” Another exaggerated sigh followed. “On that day… she was caug—”
“Stop.”
Cathie ripped her hand free.
Her voice came out hoarse and raw, slicing through the air like glass.
“Stop,” she repeated, glaring at Helena with an intensity she no longer bothered to hide.
A sheen of sweat glistened under Cathie's temple . Her eyes were cloudy and burning, battling more than just anger.
The sharpness of her voice captured immediate attention.
Nearby guests turned their heads. Some of those who had been present that day stared in stunned disbelief. Others whispered cruelly, questioning how she could dare to show her face again after humiliating her father.
The drama had only begun.
Julia stepped back, visibly shaken. “Cathie…?”
Cathie shook her head slowly.
She couldn’t say it... not here and not like this.
Because telling the truth wouldn’t save her; it would shatter her completely.
Who would believe that her own stepsister had betrayed her with Jake? Who would question the man who had publicly ended the engagement himself?
It would only make her seem desperate... delusional. Foolish.
“I—” Cathie swallowed hard. “Julia, please. It’s not what you think. I can explain; just… let’s find somewhere private—”
“Oh?” Helena cut in sharply.
Her voice rose boldly and deliberately.
“Are you afraid everyone might find out the truth, Cathie?”
Heads turned fully now.
“Go on,” Helena continued sweetly. “Everyone’s watching. Tell them.”
The weight of their stares pressed down on Cathie’s nerves like a physical force. Even without meeting their eyes, she could feel judgment seeping into her skin.
Julia glanced between them, visibly disturbed. “I really don’t want to believe this,” she said quietly. “But Cathie… is there something I need to know?”
Cathie inhaled deeply
Then snapped her gaze toward Helena.
“Fine,” she said loudly but with a tremor in her voice. “Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? I’ll tell them. Even if Dad finds out—”
She had reached her limit.
Regardless of whether they were in a public space or not, and despite the humiliation, she was done being quiet.
But as soon as Helena's hand began to move, poised to deliver a stinging slap, Cathie's words caught in her throat.
At that moment, a collective gasp echoed through the crowd. Everyone anticipated the slap... but it never came.
Between them stood a man.
Tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark suit that seemed to absorb the light. His grip around Helena’s wrist was unyielding, stopping her hand mid-swing without hesitation. His eyes were sharp, and a calm smile graced his face.
“Rowan?” Cathie gasped.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Helena froze, shock written all over her face. The guests around them stared... frozen in confusion, struggling to process what they had just witnessed.
Rowan's voice was low as he spoke... calm and almost playful.
“I believe that’s rather inappropriate,” he said smoothly, “especially in public.”
He released Helena’s wrist and turned toward Cathie.
“I suppose I owe you an apology for not arriving sooner, my lady.”
Cathie looked up at him in disbelief. Anger still simmered within her, at Helena for the humiliation... and yes, at Rowan too for not standing by her from the start.
Yet there was something else she couldn’t quite identify.
Rowan took her hand gently and deliberately drew her closer, holding her in a way unmistakable to everyone watching. They were a couple—united and unapologetic.
Julia opened her mouth to speak but found no words.
“What?!” Helena snapped, pulling her hand back as her composure began to crumble. “You Bitch... what is this? Some kind of scheme?” She turned on Rowan with blazing fury. “And you, who do you think you are?”
Rowan faced her slowly, his calm smile infuriatingly steady.
“My name is Rowan,” he replied evenly.
Then he maintained eye contact as he added,
“And Mrs. Cathie here is my lover.”
The room collectively inhaled sharply.
“My fiancée,” Rowan continued. “And soon—to be my wife.”
Disbelief spread among the nearby guests.
Julia still hadn’t managed to find her voice since he intervened. From the back of the hall, more prominent guests, friends and family... began drifting closer, drawn by curiosity.
Mr. Dylan Valente had noticed the commotion earlier but chose to overlook it. However, the more he tried to dismiss it, the more attention it attracted. Guests shifted in their seats, whispers circulated, and even Aunt Anika, the birthday celebrant, leaned in with keen interest.
In just a few seconds, what echoed in their ears was: Mrs. Cathie Valente is soon to be my wife.
- Writer
