2
Dominic’s words hit me like a punch to the chest, sharp and bitter.
He’d shared a private photo of his wife for their amusement but drew the line when it came to Celeste Monroe.
He knew exactly what disrespect looked like.
Yet he let his friends say such things about me without a second thought.
My hands shook as anger and humiliation burned through me. I wanted to storm into the bathroom and confront him.
But the stabbing pain in my stomach spread to my chest, and tears started streaming down my face.
From the moment I met Dominic, Celeste Monroe had always been a shadow between us.
She was his childhood sweetheart.
Everyone loved to tell me stories about how happy they’d been together.
The first time I saw her was at my wedding to Dominic.
During our vows, she showed up, her eyes red and glassy.
The usually composed Dominic faltered, staring at her like the ground had shifted beneath him. He barely held himself back from running to
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The officiant had to remind him three times to say, “I do.”
When he finally did, it was impatient and curt. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s move on.”
After the wedding, he disappeared for an entire day without offering a single explanation.
It was Dominic’s grandfather, Mr. Blackwell, who comforted me.
He told me not to worry, that as long as the two of us focused on building a life together, everything would be fine.
I said nothing, and the matter was swept under the rug.
Not just because I loved Dominic.
But because the elderly man who stood before me had funded ten years of my education, pulling me from a childhood of abandonment in Willow Creek Village to graduate from an Ivy League school.
From then on, Dominic seemed to settle down.
It was as though Celeste Monroe had never existed.
For five years, Dominic and I became the perfect couple in the public eye–a paragon of harmony and love.
Until last year, when Mr. Blackwell retired and Dominic took over Blackwell Enterprises.
That’s when I heard her name again.
