Chapter 6

Charles gave Cecilia an unreadable look and spoke at his own unhurried pace.

"The Windsor family doesn't care about reputation... but about this marriage — are you sure you've thought it through? Ms. Davis, you should know I'm almost 30. I don't like going through the motions with things that matter. Have you really thought it through?"

There was something beneath his words.

A quiet reminder that their marriage was never meant to be a business arrangement.

And it wasn't meant to stop at just going through the motions, either.

Cecilia looked at Charles — the kind of man who carried the ease of old money in the way he held himself, his good looks refined and unhurried, even when talking about something like this.

"Mr. Windsor, you're only a few years older than me. They say men your age are steady and mature. From what I can tell, that seems about right."

Cecilia continued, "I do have one question I'd like you to answer."

Charles had already started preparing a ring and planning for life after the wedding. There were things she needed to get straight.

Charles raised an eyebrow, his expression still cool and unreadable. "Go ahead."

"Mr. Windsor, would you cheat?"

The words were out before she had second thoughts.

The air in the lounge shifted at the word "cheat." Charles's expression didn't change — still that same composed, unhurried calm.

He poured a cup of hot tea and slid it toward her. The steam curled up slowly, drifting across her face, soft and warm. The smell of brown sugar and ginger reached her.

Cecilia wrapped her hands around the cup, a little stiffly, and took a sip. The warmth spread through her, all the way to her fingertips.

"I'm sorry," she said, eyes down, as if she shouldn't have brought it up.

In their world, how many people stayed truly faithful? Edward loved Julia so deeply, and even he chose Jessica as a substitute.

"Why are you apologizing?"

Charles didn't think the question crossed any line.

"It feels a bit heavy. A bit presumptuous." Cecilia tightened her grip on the cup.

The lounge was lit in warm amber. It settled over her like a soft glow. At this distance, at this angle, he could see the faint tremble in her eyes — something unsettled beneath all that quiet composure.

"I don't think it's presumptuous at all."

She had almost finished her tea. He refilled the cup before he spoke.

"Staying faithful to your marriage and your partner is just what it means to be a husband. Anyone in the Windsor family who does otherwise gets cut off. So you don't need to worry."

His way of putting her at ease.

"Any other questions?" Charles tilted his head slightly, almost like he was hoping she'd ask more.

Or was she reading too much into it.

At least he wasn't upset.

Charles was, in a way, her backup plan — one she had quietly secured for herself.

"The Windsor family has always kept a clean name. I believe that even without love between us, Mr. Windsor and I can still treat each other with respect."

She wasn't sure why, but the moment those words left her mouth, something in Charles's manner cooled — just slightly, but noticeably.

"As long as you've made up your mind, Ms. Davis."

After they reached an agreement, Charles drove her home. Neither of them said a word the entire way.

When she got out, Charles rolled down the window.

Through it, she could make out his profile in the moonlight — sharp and composed — and those dark, deep eyes that carried a faint edge of indifference.

Maybe she was imagining it.

Even now, with marriage on the table, there was still a distance between them she couldn't quite name.

"Ms. Davis."

His voice was unhurried, his eyes unreadable. "I'll wait to hear from you."

The window went back up.

The car pulled away.

"It shouldn't be long."

Charles was already gone. The words drifted out — half an answer to him, half to herself.

Cecilia had barely stepped through the door when her phone rang. Edward.

"Come to the hospital. Now." He bit the words out, fury barely contained, and hung up before she could say anything.

Calling her to the hospital at this hour — it could only be about Jessica.

Fine. She didn't mind making the trip.

There were things that needed to be said.

And besides, Charles was still waiting to hear from her.

Edward had always been protective of Jessica. Even after she'd fallen into the water, he'd brought her to the finest private hospital in Emerald City.

The door to the room wasn't fully closed. Edward's assistant Leo was waiting outside. He looked Cecilia over briefly, said nothing, and stepped aside.

She was about to push the door open when she heard Jessica's voice, soft and wounded.

"Edward, don't blame Cecilia. She didn't mean it. She probably just couldn't handle seeing you bring me to the dinner. This is all my fault — I'm the one who made things hard for you."

"I should never have insisted on going tonight."

She kept breaking into light coughs between words. Edward rubbed slow circles on her back, his voice full of tenderness.

"Jessica, you're just too kind."

Too kind?

Kind enough to humiliate Cecilia in front of everyone. Kind enough to scheme her way into becoming the other woman.

Cecilia had heard enough.

"She's not kind. She's cruel."

Cecilia pushed the door open and leaned against the frame, relaxed in a way that only came from having no expectations left.

Edward turned — and came face to face with her.

He went still.

She'd changed out of the soaked dress. She was wearing a soft, pale knit dress now, her makeup washed clean. Her face was a little pale, but her lips were still red, and something about the whole picture gave her a cool, distant quality that was hard to look away from.

Edward had been married to her for years. He knew what she looked like. But something about seeing her right now stopped him — took him back, just for a second, to the first time he'd ever seen her.

Jessica lowered her lashes and dug her nails into her palm. Her face was streaked with tears. She coughed again, softly.

She tugged at Edward's sleeve. "Edward... I think I have a fever. I feel terrible..."

Edward came back to himself. One look at Jessica's face, and whatever had stirred in him was gone.

He took her hand. "It's okay. You'll feel better after the medicine and some sleep."

He kept his voice gentle. Jessica pressed a hand to her mouth and coughed again, looking small and fragile.

The sight of it brought Edward's anger back, this time aimed squarely at Cecilia.

"Cecilia, you're the cruel one here. How can you even think about putting this on Jessica?"

Cecilia looked at him — this face she used to know — and found nothing left of the person who had once been gentle with her. Strip away the surface and there was only something ugly and cold underneath.

"I'm not here to waste time on this. I didn't come to watch Jessica perform, and I'm not interested in arguing with you."

She felt nothing. Whatever she'd once had for this marriage was gone.

She looked down for a moment, then walked toward him.

Up close, the faint clean scent she wore became more distinct.

Edward looked up. Something tightened in his chest without his permission. He met her eyes — flat, cool, unreadable — then his gaze dropped. He saw the divorce papers, and his expression hardened.

His voice came out cold. "Cecilia. Do you know what you're doing?"

She knew exactly what she was doing. She was more worried that Edward didn't know what he was doing.

She held the papers out to him.

"Edward, we've been tangled up in this for five years."

"Whatever was left between us — whatever small thing it was — it's been gone for a long time now."

"Five years is enough." She held his gaze, each word deliberate. "So let's get divorced."