Her gaze lingered on the red marks adorning Cedric’s neck, and she asked deliberately, her voice calm but pointed, "What happened to your neck?"
Cedric froze for a moment before quickly releasing her and striding toward the mirror. His hand instinctively moved to rub the marks as his brows furrowed. "Probably mosquito bites."
"Really?" Dione’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes remained sharp. "Are you sure it wasn’t some woman leaving her mark?"
Her gaze bore into his reflection, searching for any flicker of guilt.
Cedric turned, his expression softening into a helpless smile as he pulled her into his arms again. His voice, smooth and warm, brushed against her ear. "If anyone were to kiss my neck, it’d only be you. No one else is allowed."
He tapped her nose lightly, his smile faltering just enough to show a hint of frustration. "Stop overthinking. You’re the only one I love."
Before she could reply, his phone buzzed insistently from his pocket, the vibrations breaking the moment. His unease was palpable as he turned toward the bedroom, muttering something about needing a shower.
As Cedric showered, bursts of laughter echoed intermittently from the bathroom, a sound that grated against Dione’s already strained nerves. Seated on the bed, she sifted through her collection of jewelry and branded handbags, her movements deliberate and detached.
Forty minutes passed before Cedric finally emerged, steam trailing behind him like a lingering shadow. His eyes landed on the array of handbags sprawled across the bed, one brow lifting in mild amusement. "Having trouble deciding which one to take? Need your husband’s impeccable fashion advice?"
Dione, her focus unwavering as she snapped photos to send to a luxury consignment store, replied flatly, "I’m heading out, but these bags don’t feel like me anymore. I’m thinking of selling them."
Her voice was calm, almost too calm, as if she were discussing a trivial errand. Yet, in her heart, she knew she was preparing for a journey far beyond his reach, one from which there would be no return.
"That’s a good idea," Cedric said warmly, stepping closer. His tone dripped with affection as his hand reached for her cheek. "This way, I can spoil you with some of the newest designs."
But even as he spoke, his other hand held his phone tightly behind his back, its screen lighting up with an unspoken secret.
Dione leaned away, her body instinctively recoiling from his touch. Without sparing him a glance, she continued snapping photos, her silence sharper than any rebuke.
Cedric’s phone buzzed incessantly, the vibrations cutting through the stillness of the room like a restless hum.
“Cedric, if you’re busy, just go. Someone from the consignment store is coming later. It wouldn’t be good if they recognized you.” She knew his mind had wandered far from this room and simply offered him an easy out.
“Really? Well, Laurent wants to go over a few more details, so I’ll head out.” He quickly changed into a fresh set of clothes, the familiar scent of cologne trailing behind him as he left in haste.
Left alone, Dione turned her attention back to her task, her fingers tracing the edges of her handbags. The value of the jewelry and designer bags sprawled before her amounted to a staggering 30 million.
Over the years, Cedric never let a holiday or milestone slip by without lavishing her with gifts, always proclaiming he wanted her to have the best of everything. And he had delivered. Beyond the spacious apartment they called home, four or five other properties bore her name.
Cedric was no longer the man who once struggled to afford instant noodles. Now, he was a name people recognized, a millionaire with a sterling reputation in Cedar Ridge.
With fame came a flurry of events and admirers, many of whom were glamorous female celebrities from the entertainment world. Yet Cedric always brushed them aside, dismissing them as cunning women looking for a way to climb the social ladder.
Then there was Ophelia Morgan, the female apprentice who appeared six months ago. She came into the picture when Cedric was under pressure to finish a sculpture for a company’s anniversary celebration, so he hired extra help. Ophelia, who had been drifting through Cedar Ridge, taking on odd jobs to get by, was one of them.
By the time her stint with him ended, Ophelia had stripped bare and begged him to take her in.
Cedric had kicked her out without a second thought and later chuckled about the incident with Dione, recounting it like an amusing anecdote.
Half a month later, Dione walked into Cedric's studio, only to be confronted with an unexpected sight: there was Ophelia, still there. Not only had she managed to stay, but Cedric had even sorted out her passport issues.
Dione, her heart heavy with the weight of betrayal, couldn’t hold back. "What’s going on here?" she asked, her voice tight and disbelieving.
Cedric stepped in front of Ophelia, his posture protective. His gaze softened as he explained, "She’s in a tough spot, just trying to make a living, much like we did when we first arrived in Cedar Ridge…"
"I took her in because she reminded me of our own struggles back then."
