But this couldn't be.
Instinct beat thought. I jerked back into the corner by the elevator, ducking behind the vending machine, peeking toward my husband.
It really was him.
Richard Winston stood in that hallway like he was lowering the air pressure around him.
Six-foot-three, black overcoat hanging open, a charcoal three-piece suit underneath stretched across those broad shoulders, the fabric pulling tight across his chest, the line from shoulder to waist cutting sharp and clean. His hair was slicked back, a few strands loose, emphasizing that square jaw and hard profile. His hands in his pockets, knuckles large, a million-dollar mechanical watch on his wrist.
Even standing there cold and severe, he was devastating to look at.
But why was he here? My Richard should be in a Zurich conference room right now, facing billion-dollar acquisition terms, not standing in a Los Angeles hospital hallway.
Had he never gone to Zurich at all? Did he lie? Why?
Next to Richard stood Nick Harris. I knew him—Richard's college friend, a top surgeon at this hospital, one of the few people Richard called friend.
"Can't believe you'd fly back for a little discomfort. That's over twenty hours in the air, round trip." Nick teased. "Not like you, Richard."
Fly back for discomfort? Was Richard sick?
If he'd rushed back from Switzerland because he was ill and forgot to tell me, I could accept that. But didn't Zurichhave hospitals? What kind of terrible condition required only Ethelred Hospital in Los Angeles?
Richard spoke like it was obvious. "Olivia got sick and collapsed in the conference room. She only has me here, so I flew back."
Olivia Carter.
The worry I'd felt about Richard being sick crashed down. It wasn't Richard who was unwell. It was Olivia.
I knew exactly who she was.
Carter family heiress, Cambridge graduate, Richard's key business partner. Supposedly, before Richard and I married, high society had been buzzing that they were close to making it official.
I'd met her a few times—sleek black hair always perfectly styled, sharp elegant features, eyes that could dissect a balance sheet. She looked like the smartest person in any boardroom.
I respected her position and competence, but in my marriage, I'd never worried about her.
My hair was honey-blonde, soft and glossy, warm and approachable. And my body—I had curves Olivia didn't. Those tailored suits she wore would look completely different on me.
Richard was a man. Men's eyes didn't lie. When Olivia and I were in the same room, I knew exactly where his gaze landed.
Before the wedding, there'd been rumors about Olivia and Richard. I'd asked him. He'd denied it. He had no reason to lie. And I'd chosen to believe him.
"Oh, Olivia. That explains it." Nick drew out the words. "Didn't you once admit she was the most suitable match for you? Power couple and all. I always thought you'd marry her. Still do, honestly."
I crushed the test results in my fist. Richard and I were already married. What was Nick even saying?
Richard went quiet for a few seconds. Then I heard him use that market-analysis tone. "If my wife were Olivia, that would be the optimal rational choice. But the Winston family doesn't need a woman to make money, so a wife who's obedient and manageable matters more than any other qualification."
Obedient? Manageable?
My eyes went wide.
Those labels hit like two cold slaps across my face.
God. So Richard only chose me because I was easier to control than Olivia? Really? Was that his honest answer?
Nick chuckled. "Natalie's a bit dull, but at least she never causes trouble. That kind of woman's hard to find."
