As I stepped onto the balcony, I found myself cornered instead.
A familiar group of men strutted in, their tailored suits and smug grins radiating entitlement.
Raphael’s so-called friends—men who once laughed as they dissected my most intimate moments with him like it was some late-night gossip.
“Well, well, look who decided to sulk in the shadows,” one of them sneered, his voice dripping with amusement.
“Heartbroken already, Nadine?” another chimed in, swirling his glass of whiskey as if he were making a toast to my misery.
“Did you really think spending a night with Raphael would change anything?” a third one chuckled. “Sweetheart, you’re in London. Colette’s the queen, and you’re just… the entertainment.”
Laughter rippled through them, their words sharp as knives, each one slicing deeper.
My hands curled into fists at my sides, but I refused to let them see me falter. I had already made up my mind—I would leave. Soon, none of this would matter.
So, I stood there, silent, enduring their mockery, because in the grand scheme of things, their words meant nothing. As long as they did not cross the line, they were not worth my breath.
Then, as if summoned by fate, Raphael’s presence cut through the suffocating air. His arrival silenced the jeering, but the relief that should have come with it never did.
Because my eyes landed on the crimson stain on his collar.
A perfect imprint of Colette’s red lipstick.
A bitter chuckle rose in my throat. So, they were not heading to the hospital but sneaking off to a bedroom for a quick tryst?
Raphael really just made his own downfall effortless for me.
But still, he acted as if he was my hero. "Leave. I want to be alone with Nadine," Raphael ordered, his voice low, almost dangerous.
His friends clicked their tongues in disappointment. "Tch, no fun," one muttered as they slinked away, leaving behind only the scent of expensive cologne and lingering malice.
Raphael turned to me, his gaze briefly softening as he took in the stain on my dress. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Feels like déjà vu, doesn’t it? Another ruined dress, another night where I’m the fool in this story. Just like the night of the accident a week ago. And the culprit….”
Before I could even finish, he cut me off. "Colette didn’t mean it. She was hurt too. Let’s not prolong this."
His words struck something deep inside me, something raw and fragile.
Oh. So that was how it was then. He had already made his choice, hadn’t he?
Colette’s warmth was enough to justify leaving me in the cold.
I swallowed down the lump rising in my throat and forced my expression into something unreadable. "Fine. Since I waited for you like promised, now I’m going home."
Raphael straightened, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “Stay, please. You wouldn’t want to miss my speech after I’m announced as the next Moreau successor, would you?”
“In this dress?” I arched a brow, my voice laced with quiet defiance.
“That’s right,” he said smoothly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Then I’ll take you to a boutique nearby. Let’s get you something exquisite.”
“No need,” I said flatly, already stepping away.
“I insist,” he pressed, and before I could protest, his hand encircled my wrist. His grip was firm, not rough, but firm enough to tell me that arguing would be pointless.
With a sigh, I allowed myself to be guided to his car.
But as soon as I slid into the passenger seat, a scent invaded my senses. Not his usual clean, woodsy cologne.
No, this was something else. Something sour, cloying—a mix of perfume and sweat. The unmistakable smell of a heated night.
And the moment he leaned in to buckle my seatbelt, something caught my eye—faint at first, then unmistakable. A dark, bruised mark peeking out from his collar.
“Who gave you that hickey?” My voice was steady, but my hands clenched into fists on my lap.
“What hickey?” He feigned confusion, glancing into the mirror.
For the briefest second, I caught the flicker of panic in his eyes before he masked it with nonchalance.
“Oh, that? Must’ve been an insect bite. Got it at the hospital.” He even had the audacity to chuckle. “Didn’t realize it was that bad.”
I let out a slow exhale, my fingers trembling slightly. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”
Raphael sighed, gripping the wheel. “Nadine, you’re overthinking again.”
"Overthinking?" My voice was sharper now, laced with frustration and hurt. "You always say that. Every time. But can you explain your closeness with Colette at the event earlier?"
Raphael exhaled, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Nadine, that was just acting to show to our parents."
I scoffed, my fingers tightening into fists on my lap. "Acting? But you promised to introduce our relationship more deeply to the public, didn't you?
“Instead, you made it seem like you and Colette were closer than ever. Your friends teased me because of that—don’t you know?" My voice wavered despite my efforts to stay strong.
"I'm sorry, I didn’t think that far," he admitted, his expression unreadable. "But I told Colette to just act as is. Her kiss… that wasn’t part of the plan."
A bitter chuckle escaped me.
"Oh, yeah. And I suppose the hickeys and lipstick marks weren’t part of the plan either?" I sneered, my tone was sharp.
