Chapter 3 .

ANABEL’S POV

~ Four Days Later ~

The atmosphere inside the church felt heavy the moment I stepped in.

Soft instrumental music drifted through the speakers while low whispers spread across the room, as though people were afraid to speak too loudly around death.

Everyone was dressed in black, their faces solemn and exhausted, and the thick smell of flowers hanging in the air was so strong, it almost made my stomach turn.

I froze briefly near the entrance, clutching my purse tightly while my gaze moved around the church. Then I saw the family seated in the front row.

A heavy ache settled in my chest instantly. Mr. Arthur seemed older overnight. Smaller too.

Ever since I married into the Wilson family, Arthur had always treated me kindly. He never made me feel like an outsider the way some wealthy families often did. Even when Miles and I started having problems, Arthur still checked on me constantly, asking if I was eating properly or if Miles was stressing me too much.

Seeing him sitting there quietly crying over his grandson broke something inside me.

I made my way toward him, the sound of my heels echoing sharply against the church floor. 

Arthur lifted his gaze when I got closer, and his expression softened faintly when he saw me. "Anabel,” he said softly.

I sat beside him and reached for his hand gently. His fingers tightened around his walking stick while he gave a faint shake of his head, like he still couldn’t process any of this.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

Arthur exhaled unevenly. “I still don’t understand how this happened.” His voice sounded worn down by grief.

I swallowed hard and rubbed his hand gently while he continued staring at the coffin ahead.

“He called me before the accident,” Arthur said after a moment.

My brows pulled together. “He did?”

Arthur nodded tiredly. “About thirty minutes before it happened.” He paused briefly before sighing deeply. “He sounded angry. Upset about something.”

Unease settled deep in my stomach. "What did he say?” I asked softly.

“He said he needed to tell me something important.” Arthur's expression tightened like he had replayed the conversation endlessly in his head already. “I told him not to drive himself if he was emotional, especially since it was late. I even offered to send one of the drivers to pick him up.”

I focused on him more carefully now. "But he drove anyway?” I asked.

Arthur’s grip tightened around his walking stick. "That’s the part I don’t understand.” His voice lowered. “He agreed to let the driver come.”

The uneasy feeling in my stomach grew stronger. Agreed? Then why was he driving alone later that night?

Before I could think further about it, movement across the church caught my attention. I looked up automatically, and my eyes landed on Miles. He was seated beside Cierra. Close beside her.

Too close.

Cierra’s face was buried in her hands while she cried softly, her shoulders trembling beneath her black dress. Miles leaned toward her, whispering something that probably was meant to calm her while rubbing her back gently.

The sight sent anger rushing through me so quickly it almost shocked me.

Before all this, I would have thought nothing of it. I would have seen a grieving widow being comforted by family.

But now?

Now all I could see was my husband touching another woman like she belonged to him. Like he forgot I was sitting in the same church watching him.

My jaw tightened.

For days, Miles had barely spoken to me. After the funeral announcement, he never came home again. The only person who showed up at the house was his assistant, who came to collect clothes and a few personal things for him.

Miles only texted me once.

'Staying at Grandfather’s place until after the funeral arrangements.'

That was it.

And embarrassingly enough, part of me still spent those days hoping he would finally come home and tell me none of what I saw was real. That there was some explanation for everything I found on his laptop.

But watching him with Cierra now destroyed whatever hope I still had left.

The funeral service began shortly afterward. I barely listened to most of it.

The priest spoke about family, love, loss, and grief while my thoughts drifted somewhere darker. Every time I looked up, I caught Miles leaning toward Cierra. Sometimes whispering softly to her. Sometimes squeezing her hand.

At one point, she rested her head briefly against his shoulder while crying, and that hurt more than I expected. Because they looked comfortable together.

Natural.

Like they had stopped hiding what they were to each other.

I turned my face away before the anger on it became obvious.

By the time the service ended, my head was pounding badly. People gradually began moving around the church offering condolences to the family. I stayed beside Arthur a little longer before eventually standing.

“You should eat something later,” I told him softly.

Arthur gave a tired nod. “Thank you for coming, Anabel.”

The words caught me off guard. I was family. There was never a reason for me not to come. Then again, grief made people say things they normally wouldn’t.

I managed a small smile. “Of course. We're family."

After a moment, I turned toward Cierra. The closer I got to her, the more uneasy I became.

Cierra seemed exhausted. Her makeup was ruined from crying and her eyes were badly swollen. For a brief moment, guilt tugged at me because regardless of everything else, her husband had just died.

But then I remembered the pictures. The messages. The hotel room. And the sympathy I felt disappeared immediately.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said when I finally reached her.

Cierra looked up at me, her eyes still wet with tears. “Thank you, Anabel.” Her voice cracked painfully.

Miles stood beside her the entire time, one hand resting lightly against her back while she tried calming herself down.

“If Miles wasn’t here with me these past few days, I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done,” Cierra whispered while wiping her face.

My heart skipped a beat. "These past few days?” I repeated carefully.

Cierra nodded weakly. “He stayed with me the whole time. I couldn’t even sleep after it happened.”

I felt a sudden heaviness in my chest. 

I turned toward Miles. He met my eyes briefly before avoiding them again. Not Arthur’s house. Her house. He had been staying with her for four days.

My stomach dropped sharply, but somehow I still kept my expression calm.

“That was kind of him,” I said evenly.

The rest of the funeral passed in a blur after that. By the time I finally got into my car, all I wanted was to go home and get away from both of them.

The drive home passed in silence. Arthur’s words kept replaying in my head. He agreed to let the driver come. So why was he driving that night? And why did he sound angry before the accident?

Something about it unsettled me deeply, though I couldn’t fully explain why.

By the time I got home, exhaustion weighed heavily on me. 

I walked into the house and kicked my heels off near the entrance. The silence around me settled quietly over my skin after hours of pretending I was okay.

For the first time all day, I thought maybe I could finally breathe properly.

Then I heard a car pulling into the driveway outside. A few seconds later, the front door opened. Miles walked in first. And then Cierra walked in behind him.

I froze.

A driver entered after them carrying two large suitcases while one of the maids hurried forward to help. For a moment, I genuinely thought I was misunderstanding what I was seeing.

My gaze shifted from the luggage to Miles. "What is this?” I asked quietly.

Miles loosened his tie tiredly before answering. "Cierra will be staying with us for a while.”

I stared at him in disbelief. "With us?”

“She shouldn’t be alone right now,” he said calmly. “Grandfather thinks it’s best.”

I knew immediately he was lying.

Arthur barely tolerated Cierra even before all this happened. He was always polite to her, but distant. There was no way he suddenly decided she should move into our house.

Cierra shifted awkwardly beside him. “Anabel, if it’ll be a problem, I can always stay at a hotel…”

“You’re not staying in a hotel,” Miles cut her off without hesitation.

He didn’t even wait to hear what I thought before shutting the idea down completely.

I watched silently as the maid dragged Cierra’s luggage upstairs. Then I looked back at Miles. He was standing close beside her again, his hand resting lightly against her back protectively.

The realization hit me so hard my breath caught painfully in my throat.

This was no longer just an affair.

And judging from the way Miles looked at her now, I wasn’t sure it had been “just” an affair for a very long time.