Heather watches us closely, her gaze flicking from one to the other, calculating.
— Hmm. Interesting. I suppose some marital arrangements can be… surprising.
The word “arrangements” lands between us like a ticking bomb. Does she know? Has she figured out the truth about our marriage?
— What do you mean? Callum asks, his voice turning cold.
Heather lifts a shoulder in an elegant shrug.
— Simply that modern marriages take many forms. Some people marry for love… others for different considerations.
— And what considerations do you imagine for us, Heather? I press, suddenly deciding to confront the serpent in stilettos head-on.
She meets my gaze without flinching, her smile now unmistakably predatory.
— Oh, I don’t know… An actress whose career is faltering after a scandal, an heir who needs a wife to satisfy certain conditions in a will… There are so many possibilities, aren’t there?
Ice floods my veins. She knows—or at least, she suspects the truth.
— You’re going too far, Heather, Callum warns.
— Am I? she replies with feigned innocence. I’m only pointing out the facts. You and Jane married so quickly, against your family’s wishes…
Panic curls tight in my chest. If Heather exposes our arrangement in front of Isobel—or anyone else—everything we’ve built will come crashing down.
— Our marriage is not up for speculation, Callum says, his authority catching me off guard. Jane is my wife. There’s nothing more to add.
CHAPTER 25
CALLUM
Heather’s gaze flicks from me to Jane, calculating and cold despite the polished smile on her lips. I can see her strategy unfolding as clearly as if she were projecting it on a screen—plant doubt, create a crack, then wedge herself straight into it.
— Of course, Callum darling. I didn’t mean to offend you, she says with feigned contrition. I’m simply concerned about you. You’ve always been so rational. This sudden marriage—it’s not like you.
— People change, Heather, I reply, instinctively stepping closer to Jane. Sometimes for the better. And speaking of change, I think it would be appropriate if you stopped calling me “darling.” We share a past, yes, but I find it particularly impolite of you to bring it up in front of my wife.
Heather is left momentarily speechless, but it’s Jane’s surprised expression that holds my attention. I realize that, since the beginning of this nightmare of a day, this is the first time I’ve actually defended her against Heather. The thought fills me with an unexpected sense of shame. What kind of man—what kind of husband—doesn’t immediately stand up for his wife when faced with the petty insinuations of an ex?
— I appreciate your concern, Heather, I add with icy politeness, but it’s entirely unnecessary. Jane and I are very happy.
— Clearly, she replies with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Good for both of you.
She glances at her watch, a calculated move to remind us she’s in control.
— We should rejoin the others.
— We’ll be there in a moment, I say.
Heather hesitates, visibly annoyed that I’m not following her lead.
— Very well, she finally says with a slight inclination of her head.
When the door closes behind her, I let out a long breath of frustration. Turning back to Jane, I find her avoiding my gaze.
— I’m sorry about that. Heather has always excelled at passive-aggressive conversation, but today she’s truly outdoing herself.
— She knows about our arrangement—or at least she suspects it, Jane says, her expression mirroring the concern tightening in my chest.
