Chapter 6

ELORA

I willed my body to relax and got to my feet, slowly releasing Luna. She didn't notice the man whose sudden presence had made her mother freeze. The innocent thing flashed me another bright smile.

A very specific kind of nausea rolled through my stomach.

Of all the schools in this city I could have enrolled Luna in, it just had to be this one. Jamie had to attend the same school. Cedric just had to be here on the same day I would show up with Luna.

Sometimes I swear the universe never gets enough of taunting us humans. Must be such a fun sport.

Up ahead, Jamie gave a little nod after Cedric had ruffled his hair, and then he scurried off with some other kids.

Then Cedric started coming over.

He was actually coming over here.

Chloe quickly pulled Luna to herself and waved at a staff member passing by.

"Hi!" Chloe made sure her voice was loud enough for Cedric to hear.

"I'm Miss Locke, and this is my daughter Luna. Where do we find the orientation hall?"

As the woman started escorting Chloe and Luna away, I also started retreating in the general direction of Tristan's car.

I'd spent all these years keeping my daughter from that family, especially Cedric. Seeing that distance almost vanish today made me feel sick. I wasn't going to cross my fingers and hope for the best next time.

I'd just cleared the rear of a red Porsche when I noticed that black suit and arrogant stride in the side mirror again.

Cedric was following me.

A flash of irritation went up my spine. Other than asking me about Luna (which I was sure he wouldn't after Chloe's perfect act), why would he be following me?

He had already told me that he had no intention of signing the divorce papers because of some secret six-year inheritance trust between him and Arthur.

He was going to have his extra year. So what else could he possibly want from me?

I accelerated. I just needed to reach Tristan's car and get out of this place before my morning would be completely ruined.

But Cedric had longer legs, and ten feet in the mirror became six.

I picked up my pace but told myself it was just the wind, nothing more.

Six became four.

My pulse was now somewhere near my molars.

Four became his hand closing around my arm.

I immediately twisted my arm out of his hold.

"Why're you following me? What do you want?"

Cedric looked unfazed by my hostility. But as words were about to slip out of his mouth, another body stepped in between us.

Tristan must have abandoned the car the second he saw me speed-walking through the lot.

He crossed his arms, shooting Cedric a displeased look.

"Is there a problem here?" Tristan asked.

Cedric shot a sour glare at Tristan, as if he suddenly saw him as an annoying fly.

"Mind your own business," Cedric instructed flatly.

God knows what would have happened next if I hadn't physically cut off the invisible beam of testosterone shooting between the two men.

"Tristan, it's fine."

"You sure? Because I just saw him grab you."

"I'm sure," I insisted as I shot Cedric a withering glare before looking back at Tristan. "I know him."

Tristan gave Cedric one last look before giving us some breathing room. But he didn't go far.

"You haven't been answering my calls," Cedric stated.

I scoffed. "You have my phone number?"

"Of course I have your number, Elora."

"Fascinating," I crossed my arms tighter over my chest. Genuinely, I was entertained by the revelation.

"I thought you only talked to me through the housekeepers or your assistant. Since when do you call me yourself? Did you finally learn how to use a phone?"

He despised being mocked. He hated it even more when an audience was present to witness it.

His jaw did that thing that used to mean something to me, back when I still cared whether I'd annoyed him.

"Come back to the mansion."

"Are you joking? You're really standing there asking me to come back? Come back to do what exactly? Have you lost the divorce papers?"

"The papers are irrelevant right now," he countered. "I already explained the inheritance trust. You're still my wife for another year."

"So come back when the year runs out, Cedric," I snapped back. Pretty sure my nostrils were flaring.

He took half a step closer. The air pressure grew heavy.

"Do you even know how the real world operates?"

What's he on about? Have I been living in a fake world?

"Enlighten me. Since I don't know," I said.

"You're on your own, with no supervision, living in some random apartment with no money."

Ah. There it was. The ultimate weapon in the Cedric Vandermere arsenal. Financial dominance.

"You are a liability to me outside the house," Cedric continued. Then he spared a quick glance at Tristan before lowering his voice. "You know that the press is always looking for a weak link to use against me. If they find out that I have a wife living in a low-grade district, it could smear the family image. I will not have you dragging the Vandermere name through the mud because you chose to leave while still being tied to us."

His harsh assessment made my jaw tighten until my ears rang with the pressure. I kept myself rigid until the trembling in my arms subsided.

I silently wondered how much worse I'd feel if I didn't have any money of my own stashed somewhere. Imagine having nothing and hearing these words said to your face by your so-called husband.

I uncrossed my arms. They were heavy as I let them fall to my sides.

"If you're so worried about your image, the best thing you can do is ignore me with the same effort you did for the last four years."

His posture stiffened.

"You were very good at it," I reminded him. "Surely my absence from the house can't stop you now. Or ever. I mean, you run a billion-dollar business and I'm just a small fry. If your PR team is that scared of a scandal, hire a publicist instead of worrying about me. Have a fantastic morning."

I turned my back on him for the second time today.

The car dipped as Tristan dropped into the driver's seat a few seconds later. From the side mirror, he kept watching the suited man who was now walking away.

"Are you alright?" Tristan asked.

I fixed my eyes on the latch of the glove compartment.

"I'm fine."

That was a ridiculous piece of fiction to offer after what had just happened back there. But it was the default script. I could even tell that lie in my sleep.

I'm. Fine.

"If you don't mind my asking—"

"I don't mind. He's my husband."