Lies, Love, And Letting Go

For a brief moment, Vincent's movements faltered, his breath coming rough and uneven. A flicker of clarity crossed his face as his head lifted, shadows deepening in his eyes. "Did you mistake me for someone else?" Caroline pressed, a razor-thin edge of mockery threading through her voice. His brow furrowed, the alcohol's fog peeling back just enough to expose a sliver of sobriety. He didn't bother replying. Instead, he straightened stiffly, his expression shuttering into icy detachment, and crossed the room to drop onto the sofa as if nothing had happened. Caroline's chest tightened at his aloofness, humiliation flooding her so sharply that it burned behind her eyes. She'd foolishly believed that his sudden tenderness had been real—an unguarded moment of affection brought on by the liquor. But reality struck hard. The raw desire in his gaze hadn't been meant for her at all. Forcing the tremor out of her voice, Caroline swallowed down the sting and asked steadily, "Did you pull strings with the Keystone Group's ad contract on purpose?" Vincent didn't bother lifting his eyes, letting out a low scoff. "What's this? Hoping I'll keep the deal alive for you?" Her face stayed composed, betraying nothing. "I'm asking about business, not favors." "Then you should understand it's a strategic shift," he said coolly, his tone flat and dismissive. "Decisions like that don't hinge on me alone. Banking on personal ties to reel the contract back in is a pretty naive fantasy." He rose without another glance and walked toward the guest room, the quiet click of his shoes echoing down the hallway. Caroline leaned into the wall, her breath shallow, the lingering heat of his touch burning against her fingertips. She shut her eyes, a bitter sting creeping up to the bridge of her nose, but sheer willpower kept her tears from spilling. When the first gray light of dawn crept through the curtains, a firm knock on the door jolted Caroline out of her uneasy half-sleep. Before she could utter a word, the latch turned, and the door swung inward. Caroline jerked upright, her pulse skipping. The sight at the threshold made her expression harden. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, brows knitting as her gaze locked on the woman. Hazel stood framed in the doorway, clearly dressed to impress—soft pink velvet clinging to her figure, a dusting of makeup brightening her delicate features, that practiced, demure smile making her look as harmless as a lamb. "Carrie, you're awake," she said lightly, stepping inside like she belonged there. A sleek suitcase rolled behind her. "Vince is leaving on a business trip, so I came to pack a few things for him." Caroline gave a short, icy laugh and pushed herself higher against the headboard, her voice stripped of any warmth. "Don't you think this is a little inappropriate?" Hazel's practiced smile wavered. She ducked her gaze, feigning meekness as she murmured, "I didn't mean anything by it. Vince asked me to come. I'm just doing what I was told. If this upsets you, I'll leave right now." She angled her body toward the door, every move deliberately demure. With a faint, cutting edge to her tone, Caroline let the words drip with mockery. "You've got quite the talent for putting on an act." Hazel lifted her head, her lashes catching the light, wet and trembling above eyes clouded with red. "I truly didn't mean to offend you. I don't even know what I did wrong. Why are you treating me like this?" Caroline's reply came cool and clipped. "Funny how you make it sound like I'm the one being unreasonable." Her gaze slid toward Hazel's hands, lingering on the soft nude-pink polish. The mockery in her tone deepened. "Besides, this isn't exactly your first visit to this room, is it?" The air between them tightened like a drawn wire. Hazel's complexion blanched, a flicker of panic betraying her calm façade. Had Caroline found out she'd left the lace underwear there? In that instant, Vincent appeared in the doorway, his black shirt half-buttoned, carrying the careless ease of someone fresh from sleep—though the chill in his eyes told another story. "What's going on?" His sharp gaze swept over the two women, and his brows tightened in a hard line. Caroline slowly turned her head toward him. "We aren't even divorced yet, and you're already parading your mistress into the house? She's your step-aunt, Vincent. If this leaks, how do you think your family's going to explain that?" "So what?" Vincent shot back, his voice flat and cold. "Are you suddenly worried about protecting the dignity of the 'lawful wife' now?" The pointed look he gave Caroline made the tension in the room tighten. He strode past Hazel without sparing her a glance and pulled open the wardrobe doors. Caroline's pulse jumped. Her medical records were still tucked away inside the wardrobe! "Wait!" The word burst out before she could stop it. Vincent's hand stilled, but it was too late. A crisp folder slipped from the top shelf and fluttered to the floor at his feet. The air froze for several tense seconds. His brow lifted slightly as he stared down at the scattered papers. "What is this?" he queried, his voice low and unreadable.