Elise's POV
(Elise's POV)
Alexander's hand tightened briefly around her waist before he dropped it, a slow, reluctant movement. She stepped away, the sudden distance between them feeling colder than the night breeze.
Carter was walking up the stone path toward them, the woman beside him laughing at something he said—a laugh that was a little too high, a little too intimate.
Her hair was perfectly styled, makeup flawless despite the long drive. Every inch of her screamed money, beauty, and trouble.
When Carter spotted them, his smile faltered for a split second before he plastered on a grin.
"Hey," he said, too casually. "Sorry, didn't know you'd be out here."
Elise didn't respond. She just stared.
The woman's eyes—sharp, calculating—raked over Elise in one smooth motion before landing back on Carter, full of something Elise didn't like.
Something possessive.
"This is Isabella," Carter said, giving a small laugh like he was introducing an old classmate at a high school reunion. "An old friend from college."
Isabella extended a hand toward Elise, her fingers tipped in blood-red polish. "So lovely to meet you," she purred.
Friend, my ass.
Elise forced a smile and shook her hand, noticing how Isabella's grip was firm, almost territorial.
The real punch came when Elise caught Carter's eyes drifting—not toward her, but toward Alexander. More specifically, toward Alexander's hand, which still hovered a little too familiarly near her waist, as if he had just let go whereas he let go minutes ago but purposely let his hand hover there.
The glance was quick, but Elise saw it.
And Carter saw it too.
His jaw tightened ever so slightly.
Elise stepped back instinctively, putting a safe distance between herself and Alexander, feeling like she'd just been caught stealing something that never belonged to her.
"Come inside," Carter said briskly. "Dinner's almost ready."
***
Dinner was…excruciating.
They sat around the enormous mahogany dining table, with Alexander at the head like a brooding king. Carter and Elise sat side by side, while Isabella positioned herself far too close to Carter, laughing softly at his every word, touching his arm whenever she got the chance.
The food tasted like ash in Elise's mouth.
Conversation flowed stiffly around the table, full of fake politeness and hidden insults.
"So, Elise," Isabella said sweetly, twirling her wine glass between two fingers, "Carter tells me you're…adjusting."
Elise blinked. "Adjusting?"
"To…everything." Isabella smiled wider, her teeth flashing. "The move. The…changes."
Elise tightened her grip around her fork.
"It's been an adjustment for all of us," she said, keeping her voice even.
"Oh, of course," Isabella said, with mock sympathy. "Especially after... you know. Everything that happened in Chicago."
The table went still.
Carter coughed awkwardly, and Alexander set his wine glass down with a sharp clink.
Elise's heart thudded painfully against her ribs. She forced a tight smile. "Funny how quickly news travels."
Isabella shrugged innocently. "It's a small world. And people talk."
The way she said it—so lightly, so pointedly—made Elise's skin crawl.
By the time dessert was served, Elise had barely touched her plate. Her stomach was twisted in knots, and every glance between Carter and Isabella felt like a punch she couldn't block.
Finally, Carter pushed his chair back with a scrape of wood against marble.
"I'm going to drop Isabella off," he said, grabbing his keys. "It's getting late."
Elise stiffened. "She can't call an Uber?"
Isabella laughed lightly, standing and brushing imaginary dust off her perfect jeans. "I didn't want to trouble anyone. Carter insisted."
Elise watched them walk out together, the door swinging shut behind them.
For a long moment, the house was silent except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer.
She sat frozen, a pit growing open in her gut.
Minutes passed.
Five. Ten. Fifteen.
Still, no sound of the car leaving.
Panic began to rise in her chest.
She stood up quietly and walked toward the window, pulling the heavy curtain aside just enough to peek out.
And there they were.
Still parked in the driveway.
Still sitting in the car.
Talking.
Laughing.
And then—
It happened.
Isabella leaned over.
And kissed him.
It was soft, brief, but unmistakable.
Elise staggered back from the window, bile rising in her throat.
No.
No, no, no—
She stumbled toward the front door, flung it open—and by the time she got outside, they were just talking again.
Standing by the car.
Smiling.
Carter's hands stuffed deep into his pockets, Isabella's voice was soft as she spoke to him.
Had she imagined it?
Had her brain twisted her worst fears into something she thought she saw?
Shivering, Elise backed into the house just before Carter looked toward the house. She slipped back inside and closed the door softly behind her.
****
It was almost midnight when Carter came back.
Elise sat waiting in the dim living room, the only light coming from the fireplace.
When he walked in, whistling under his breath like he didn't have a care in the world, something inside her snapped.
"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded, standing up so fast the chair toppled over.
Carter blinked at her, caught off guard. "Dropping Isabella off. Like I said."
"For three hours?"
He shrugged. "We caught up. She's an old friend."
Elise's hands were trembling. "I saw you," she hissed. "In the car."
He frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"You kissed her!" she shouted.
The words echoed off the stone walls.
Carter's expression twisted into disgust. "You're delusional."
"No, I'm not! I—"
"You've been acting crazy since we got here," he snapped, stepping closer. "Seeing things that aren't there. Making up bullshit because you're miserable and you want to blame someone."
Elise felt like he had slapped her.
Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall.
"You're a liar," she whispered. "You've always been a liar."
He laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "God, no wonder I needed a break. Living with you is like suffocating."
The weight of his words hit harder than any physical blow.
Alexander appeared at the doorway then, silent as a shadow, his eyes flashing with something dangerous.
Carter didn't notice.
He turned away, muttering, "Maybe if you spent less time playing the poor abandoned wife and more time being someone people want to come home to—"
"Carter," Alexander's voice cut in, deadly calm.
Both of them turned.
Alexander stood there, hands in his pockets, looking at Carter the way a lion looks at a wounded gazelle.
"Go to bed," Alexander said quietly. "Now."
For a moment, Carter looked like he wanted to argue.
But something in his father's face made him think better of it.
Muttering under his breath, Carter stormed upstairs, his footsteps pounding down the hall.
The house fell into a suffocating silence.
Elise stood there, trembling, feeling like the floor had opened under her.
Alexander crossed the room slowly, stopping a few feet away.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't have to.
Because in that moment, Elise realized something terrifying and thrilling at once:
She wasn't alone anymore.
And maybe—just maybe—the person she had trusted all these years was never the man meant to have her heart at all.