Chapter 4

After I returned from the café, Sophie's question stayed in my mind.

I still couldn't remember the answer.

Alex came home at eleven that night.

The next morning, he left at seven.

Over the following few days, the amount of time we were actually awake together probably added up to less than two hours.

On Thursday night, he unexpectedly came home before ten.

I was trying on dresses in the closet.

"How about this one?"

Alex leaned against the doorway and glanced at me.

"It looks great."

"You didn't even look."

He smiled and walked over, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"I did."

It was the first time in days that we had been this close.

I looked at him through the mirror.

"What time are we leaving tomorrow night?"

The smile on his face faded slightly.

"About tomorrow night..."

My hand stopped near my earring.

"What happened?"

"You don't need to go."

I turned around.

"Why?"

"After the charity dinner, there's a meeting with investors. It might run late."

"That's okay. I can come home myself."

"Evie."

He rubbed my arm gently.

"Isn't your foundation busy too? There's no need for you to spend the whole evening there waiting around with me."

I looked at the dress I was wearing.

Whitmore Holdings had sponsored this charity gala for three years.

For the first two years, I had stood beside Alex.

"You don't want me to go?"

"Of course not."

"Then I can go."

Alex was silent for a few seconds.

"I just don't think it's necessary."

That sentence suddenly made me lose the desire to argue.

"Okay."

I turned back to the mirror.

"Then I won't go."

The next afternoon, I returned the dress to the boutique.

A little after seven that night, Alex texted me.

Already at the venue.

I replied:

Okay.

Then I stopped checking my phone.

I didn't hear anything else until the next morning.

My mother called.

"You didn't go to the charity gala last night?"

"No."

"Were you feeling sick?"

"Alex had work afterward, so I decided not to go."

My mother was quiet for a moment.

"I just saw the photos online."

I opened my tablet.

I didn't even need to search.

The Whitmore Holdings charity gala was already everywhere.

Financial news.

Social media.

The first photo showed Alex standing beside the event organizer.

Claire was on his other side.

She wore a simple dark evening dress.

No expensive jewelry.

No attempt to stand out.

She looked completely appropriate.

Like a senior assistant accompanying a CEO to a formal event.

If there had only been that one photo, maybe I wouldn't have thought much of it.

But there were more.

Alex speaking with guests.

Claire standing beside him.

Alex giving an interview.

Claire holding his phone.

The group photos.

She was always there.

Always next to him.

One entertainment website even used the headline:

Whitmore Appears at Charity Gala with Mystery Woman

I stared at those two words.

Mystery woman.

The comments below were already asking:

Where is Mrs. Whitmore?

I closed the page.

At ten that morning, Alex came home.

"You didn't go to the foundation today?"

"This afternoon."

He removed his coat.

"Good. Then maybe we can have lunch together?"

I looked at him.

"I have a question."

He stopped.

"Why was Claire at the gala last night?"

Alex's expression changed slightly.

"She was responsible for the meeting afterward."

"What does that have to do with the gala?"

"She was already there."

"But the media described her as your date."

Alex frowned.

"That's the media's mistake."

"But she stood beside you the entire night."

I looked at him.

"Was that necessary?"

"Because we walked in together. I didn't notice."

"Alex."

He looked at me.

I rarely said his name like that.

"Everyone saw it."

"Saw what?"

For a moment, I couldn't answer.

Did he truly not understand?

Or did he simply not want to?

"My wife wasn't there."

I spoke slowly.

"And your secretary was standing beside you, making everyone think she was your date."

"It was just a few photos."

"But to me, it wasn't just photos."

Alex's expression darkened.

"What's gotten into you lately?"

I looked at him.

"What's gotten into me?"

"Claire brings documents, and you're upset. She attends a work event with me, and you're upset. Now you're angry because the media wrote one wrong sentence?"

"I'm not angry."

"Then what do you want me to do?"

I didn't answer.

Because suddenly, I realized something.

I didn't know what to ask for anymore.

Alex picked up his phone.

"I'll have PR correct the article."

I stared at him.

"You really don't understand that the article isn't the problem?"

But he was already typing.

I watched him for a few seconds.

Then picked up my bag.

"I'm going to the foundation."

Alex didn't stop me.

That afternoon, the article was corrected.

The mysterious woman became:

Claire Bennett, Senior Executive Assistant.

The PR team handled it quickly.

Almost too quickly.

As if the only problem had been a wrong line of text.

That night, Alex was in the study on a video call.

When I walked past the door, I heard Claire's voice.

"Alex, about the photos from last night... I'm sorry if I caused trouble."

I stopped.

Alex answered almost immediately.

"You didn't."