Chapter 8: Has She Forgotten She's Already Married?

Helen's POV

"His moment in the spotlight?"

I tugged at the corner of my mouth. "His moments to shine have never needed me in them."

Kael had never once acknowledged my identity in public. Not even at the company's annual gala — I, his wife, hadn't been entitled to attend. I'd stood among the crowd and watched him from a distance, just a glimpse from afar.

And now, with divorce on the horizon, there was even less reason to bother.

I turned to look at Cavell. "You knew all along that this investor was him, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, I did know…" Cavell stumbled over his words, then quickly tried to recover. "But does it really matter who he is? You're here for the charity clinic, right?"

He asked that last question with careful delicacy, as though afraid I might snap at him.

I ignored him and walked toward the clinic center.

I ran into Kael on the way.

I hadn't planned on speaking to him — I intended to walk past as though he were a stranger. But he reached out and seized my wrist, his voice laced with impatience. "Helen Davis, what is your problem?"

I knew exactly what he meant by that.

He thought I had followed him here.

And honestly, I had done exactly that before — shadowed his schedule, pieced together his whereabouts from secondhand sources, then manufactured a chance encounter just to steal a few extra minutes near him. He had despised it, and had issued a standing order to Silas: under no circumstances was anyone to breathe a word of his movements to me.

I looked back at him. "Whether or not I have a problem is beside the point. What matters is this — let go of my wrist, or everyone in Angel's Children's Home is going to know we're acquainted."

He scowled deeply, but the grip on my wrist loosened.

I seized the moment and pulled free, not staying a single second longer than necessary before walking away.

After that, I didn't give him another thought.

Including Cavell and me, there were six physicians volunteering at the clinic that day. The children at the home had formed six separate lines, and the whole process went smoothly — it was over in just over two hours.

It happened to wrap up right at dinnertime, and the director of Angel's Children's Home had arranged a dinner in everyone's honor. The occasion was primarily a gesture of gratitude toward Kael, though the six volunteer physicians had also been included in the invitation.

I hadn't intended to stay. But after the dinner, the volunteer doctors were expected to compile the preliminary diagnostic records for the more serious cases — the foundation needed them on file to coordinate follow-up treatment. To avoid making another trip later, I decided to remain.

Fortunately, the gathering was large enough. Besides Kael and Silas, there were several administrators from the home and all six physicians — more than a dozen people in total. As long as I kept quiet, no one would pay me any mind.

By the time I entered the private dining room, nearly everyone had already arrived.

Kael occupied the seat at the head of the table. To his left, Director Coltham was leaning attentively toward him, pouring tea with both hands. The seat to his right was empty.

I didn't go anywhere near it. I found the chair farthest from him and had just begun to sit down when Cavell suddenly called out across the room: "Dr. Davis, why are you sitting all the way over there? Come over here — I saved you a seat."

He patted the back of the chair to his right as he said it.

The man startled me half to death.

Was he doing this on purpose?

Before his outburst, the room had been filled with quiet, scattered conversation. Now it had gone completely still, and every pair of eyes — including Kael's — had swung in my direction. Kael's expression held a flicker of genuine surprise, as though the words "Dr. Davis" had caught him entirely off guard.

I had no choice but to cross the room and take the seat beside Cavell, shooting him a sharp look as I sat down. "What are you shouting for? Nobody would've mistaken you for mute if you'd kept your mouth shut."

He propped his elbow on the table, rested his chin in his hand, and smiled at me with insufferable ease. "What's wrong — social anxiety? That doesn't seem like you at all. Aren't you someone's secretary? Aren't secretaries supposed to be charming, polished, and good with people?"

"Shut up."

It wasn't social anxiety. It was simply that now, with divorce in the picture, I had no desire to draw attention to myself anywhere Kael happened to be present.

And yet here was this man, carrying on at full volume, draping everything in theatrical suggestion, pulling the entire room's gaze squarely onto me.

Director Coltham looked my way as well, his expression brightening with undisguised admiration. "So you're Dr. Davis? Cavell mentioned he'd invited a prodigy from the medical school — I never imagined you'd be so young. Dr. Davis, you really are remarkably understated."

I offered a mild smile. "You're far too kind, Director. 'Prodigy' is a stretch — I've only done what little I could."

Before the words had fully settled, a warm, unhurried voice came from my right. "Dr. Davis is indeed remarkably young. Forgive me for asking — are you married?"

The question landed like a stone dropped into still water. Every face in the room turned toward me again, and I could feel — even without looking — the sharp, cutting gaze coming from Kael's direction.

What was he worried about? That I might say his name out loud?

I let out a quiet, humorless laugh inside and turned to face the speaker.

His name was Rhian. I didn't know him well — only that he was a close friend of Cavell's and one of the volunteer physicians that day. Whether he was asking because he was genuinely interested in me, or simply playing along with whatever Cavell had set in motion, I couldn't tell.

But he had asked directly, so I answered in kind. "Yes. And I have a daughter."

Something dimmed briefly in his eyes.

Director Coltham chimed in again. "Dr. Davis looks so young — surely no older than twenty-five? I wouldn't have guessed you were already married with a child. Your husband must be quite a remarkable man."

I gave a faint smile. "He's all right, I suppose. We're in the process of divorcing."

The last word was swallowed almost immediately by the sudden sound of a ringing phone, cutting cleanly across the quiet of the room.

---

Kael's POV

What did she just say?

I reached for my phone while stealing a glance in Rhian's direction — the light that had gone out in his eyes seemed to be flickering back to life. He had resumed talking to Helen. And Cavell wasn't behaving himself either, watching her the entire time with a grin spread across his face like some preening bird of paradise, reaching over to pile food onto her plate without pause.

What was that about? Did she not have hands of her own?

A prodigy from the medical school.

I hadn't known she was capable of that.

Perfectly at ease with everyone around her, laughing openly with men she'd barely met.

Had she forgotten she was still married?

I couldn't explain it — there was simply a sourness sitting in my chest that I had no name for. And yet, watching her smile, I found I couldn't quite look away.

I was still caught somewhere between those two things when Roxi's voice came through the phone, soft and sweet: "Daddy, when are you coming home?"

I focused on my daughter's small, bright face in the video call, and my voice softened without my meaning it to. "Daddy will be a little late tonight. You're with Aunt Ivy right now, aren't you? Sleep over together tonight — and don't give her too much trouble, understood?"

When I said Ivy's name, I glanced toward Helen without thinking. She didn't appear to have caught any of it — she was absorbed in conversation with the two men beside her, a quiet, even smile resting on her face throughout.

Roxi answered in her most earnest voice: "I know, Daddy. Don't worry — I won't let Aunt Ivy get tired."

I made a sound of acknowledgment, then looked at Helen again.

What came next, I didn't think through at all. The words were simply out before I'd decided to say them. "Roxi — your mom is here too. Do you want to talk to her?"

The moment I said it, every face in the room turned toward me, wide with surprise.

Helen and I had never held a wedding. I had never publicly acknowledged her as my wife. No one in that room had known she was the mother of my daughter.

I had acted on impulse — I knew that. But I didn't regret it. She was my wife. If I acknowledged her, then I acknowledged her. It was as simple as that.

What I hadn't anticipated was Roxi's response.

She let out a loud, indignant huff. "No! She hasn't apologized to me, and she hasn't apologized to Aunt Ivy. Until she does, I will never forgive her, and I am not talking to her!"

Her voice rang out, clear and sharp and entirely too loud, echoing through the sudden silence of the private room.

I had no time to intervene. All I could do was look, instinctively, toward Helen.