Chapter 5

Eliza lay on the king-sized bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Normally, at this hour, Xavier would wrap his arms around her from behind, whispering cheesy sweet nothings until she laughed and pushed him away.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated, the screen lighting up.

The message came from Xavier's phone, but it was obvious he hadn't written it himself.

[Ms. Carrington, sorry to bother you so late. Mr. Delacroix had too much to drink. I'm on my way back with him now.]

Below the message was a photo.

Xavier, eyes shut, was slumped against Dahlia's shoulder, cheeks flushed, tie hanging loose.

Eliza stared at the photo, her fingers shaking so badly she could barely hold the phone.

Xavier's face was nestled against Dahlia's neck, her arm draped around his waist as if it belonged there.

The phone slipped from her fingers, hitting the carpet with a dull thud.

She stayed frozen for what felt like ages, until she heard the door open downstairs, followed by Dahlia's fake gentle voice. "Mr. Delacroix, watch your step..."

Eliza took a deep breath and forced herself to move.

She stopped at the corner of the stairs.

In the entryway, Dahlia was half-holding, half-embracing Xavier.

Xavier's shirt was hanging open, exposing a suspicious red mark just above his collarbone.

But what really burned was the fresh hickeys on Dahlia's fair neck, standing out under the light with an unmistakably intimate implication.

"Mrs. Delacroix..." Dahlia looked up and saw her, self-consciously adjusting her collar.

"Mr. Delacroix had too much to drink at a business dinner. I only realized it was your anniversary when I saw his phone. He's been swamped and just forgot. Please don't blame him..." she said.

Eliza stared at those marks and let out a cold, bitter laugh.

The fake sweetness in the air was so thick it was almost suffocating.

"Second floor, turn right for the master bedroom." She pointed upstairs, her voice completely flat. "Please take him up. I can't stand the smell of a drunk."

Dahlia froze, her carefully rehearsed lines stuck in her throat.

She'd pictured Eliza going off the rails, screaming, demanding answers, maybe even throwing hands. But she never expected this icy, almost indifferent response.

"O... Okay..." Dahlia barely kept up her worried look, half-supporting Xavier as they made their way upstairs.

Eliza trailed behind at an unhurried pace, watching as Dahlia's petite frame was almost draped over Xavier, his arm unconsciously wrapped around her shoulders.

The master bedroom door was open, and Dahlia had to put in some effort to get Xavier over to the bed.

As she leaned over to settle him on the bed, Xavier suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Don't go..." Xavier mumbled, his voice rough and eyes still shut. "Just stay with me a bit longer, just for a moment..."

Dahlia let out a startled gasp, stumbling and landing on the edge of the bed, half resisting, half giving in.

She shot a quick look back at Eliza standing in the doorway, her eyes glinting with a hint of victory, though her words were all innocence.

"Mr. Delacroix, you're mistaken. It's me, Dahlia..."

Eliza stood in the doorway. It was like time froze for her.

She watched as Xavier's hand slid from Dahlia's wrist to her waist, and he buried his face in her hair, breathing her in deeply, just like he used to with Eliza.

God, how familiar this was.

But this time, she was just a spectator.

"Mrs. Delacroix, it's not what you think..." Dahlia protested, her voice all innocence, but she was clinging to Xavier like her life depended on it.

Eliza couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed the glass of ice water from the nightstand.

The glass smashed against the nightstand with a sharp crack, but the cold water had already been flung straight into Xavier's face.

Droplets ran down his lashes and nose, soaking the front of his shirt in a dark, wet patch.

Dahlia shrieked, a few strands of her meticulously styled hair getting splashed in the process.

"Xavier, have you sobered up yet?" Eliza's voice was icier than the water itself.

Xavier squinted, still dazed, water dripping from his lashes and blurring everything in front of him.

But when his gaze finally landed on Eliza at the foot of the bed, his eyes snapped into focus. "Eliza?"

In the next instant, he realized someone was still in his arms. Glancing down at Dahlia's panicked face, he jerked away from her as if he'd touched a live wire.

Dahlia, totally unprepared, almost fell off the edge of the bed.

Dahlia stumbled off the bed, hair in disarray, her shirt collar crooked and one bare shoulder exposed.

She bowed her head, fussing with her collar. "It's late. I'll head home now. Mr. Delacroix, get some rest."

The sound of her heels faded into the distance, and the bedroom door closed softly behind her.

Eliza stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed.

She suddenly noticed her nails digging into her palm, but she was numb to the pain.

Eliza took a deep breath, her voice barely betraying a tremor.

"Xavier, do you even love me anymore?" Eliza asked, her voice trembling.

"Eliza, please, don't do this." Xavier scrubbed the water off his face, sounding utterly drained. "Seriously, I didn't do anything."

He tried to reach for her, but Eliza smacked his hand away.