Page 100 of The Temporary Bride

I turn away, my chest heaving with frustration and anxiety. I don’t want to relive the past, don’t want to drag up all the pain and betrayal. But Tristan’s not letting this go, and I know he’s right. If we’re going to fix this, he needs to understand.

Tristan’s eyes lock onto mine, demanding answers. I try to brush him off, desperate to escape this conversation, but he won’t drop it.

“Chloe, what did he do to you?” His voice is hard, and I know he’s not going to let this go.

I take a deep breath, the memories pushing in on me. It takes a few moments before I’ve pulled myself together enough to speak.

“Spencer assaulted me,” I finally admit, my voice cracking. “When we were at Wharton.”

Tristan’s expression shifts from confusion to shock, and I can see the anger building just under the surface. “What? When?”

“He had asked me out once or twice,” I whisper. “I told him no, that I wasn’t interested. But that only seemed to make him want me more.”

I pause, trying to slow my breathing, but the memory presses down on me. “One day, he came over to my apartment. I thought he wanted to talk about a project or something, so I let him in. And… he forced himself on me. I tried to fight him off, but he was stronger. Afterward, he told me that I had wanted it, that I had led him on. He said if I tried to paint him as the villain, he’d ruin me.”

There’s silence in the living room, broken only by the distant sound of waves crashing on the shore. I shudder at the memory, my arms closing around my torso.

“I believed him,” I whisper. “I knew he had the power and the connections to make good on his threats. His uncle was on the university board, and one of his father’s friends was a professor in the business school.”

Tristan’s face twists with rage, his fists clenching at his sides. “That son of a bitch,” he growls. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

I can feel the tears burning my eyes and blink rapidly, trying to hold them back without much success. “I… I was scared.”

At that, the dam breaks, and my tears spill over. Sobs shake my throat, but I keep trying to speak. It’s the first time I’ve ever gotten to explain, and I’ll be damned if I let it pass me by.

Tristan reaches for me, and this time, I let him close his arms around me like an extra line of emotional defense.

“I—I did just what he wanted,” I confess through tears. “I never told anyone. I couldn’t bear the thought of it being my word against his. I let him into my place that night, and I had been drinking. He could easily twist it into a date, into something consensual. I couldn’t risk it ruining my life, so I just… just held onto it. I… I didn’t want to let him ruin my life.”

I try to hold on to Tristan, to let his presence settle around me. But deep down, I know that a part of me has been broken in a way that can’t be put back together.

“It… it killed a part of me, Tristan. A part I never got back.”

Chapter 36

Tristan

Chloe cries for a long time, and I hold her through all of it, one hand moving slowly through her hair, my other arm wrapped around her. I keep my touch light because she needs that right now, needs someone to hold her without demanding anything, and I can give her that much.

What I can’t stop doing is thinking about Spencer fucking Noble.

My friend.

My ex-friend.

He’s a man I’ve known for years, sat across dinner tables from, shaken hands with, gotten drunk with. A man I recommended to my own wife for a fucking business contract. The whole time he was walking around with the knowledge of what he did to her like it was nothing, like she was nothing, and I had no idea.

My jaw clenches so hard that the muscles in my cheeks ache. My shoulders are stiff, my entire body taut with fury, and I press my palm flat against Chloe’s back as I focus on keeping my breathing slow—because if I don’t, I’m going to end up storming out of here and doing something that will probably get me arrested.

“People… people called me the ice queen,” she whispers finally, hiccupping as another half sob wracks her body. “I figured that was fine. Better to be made of ice, because ice can’t be hurt.”

I close my eyes for a second.

I’ve heard that name. Hell, I used it myself once or twice, back before I really knew her, when I was going along with everyone else’s read on her because I hadn’t bothered to look closer. Back when everything between us was just about the rivalry and the challenge. I always knew there was something underneath the mask she wore, something real and soft that the composure was covering, but I didn’t push.

I should have pushed. I should have gotten there sooner, should have known sooner, should have been someone she could’ve told this to years ago instead of carrying it alone for all this time.

I can’t fix that. But I can fix what comes next.