All eyes in the room settled on Niamh.
But Niamh saw only Elmer–her gaze fixed on him, even though tears blurred everything else.
Elmer approached her with calm, unhurried steps, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears.
“Why are you crying…?”
His voice was soft and soothing, like a gentle breeze or a stream of clear water.
The sound overlapped perfectly with the voice in Niamh’s memory.
Her heart thudded in her chest, beating so loudly she thought it might leap right out of her throat.
“Is it really… is it really you? Am I… am I dreaming?”
Even with the undeniable reality in front of her, she couldn’t believe it.
“It’s me.”
Elmer’s tone was as warm and refined as ever, but his answer left no room for doubt.
“Yes, Niamh. It’s me–Elmer.”
Before his words had even faded, Niamh threw her arms around him, holding him tight, as if she might never let go.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Marina and Susy stared, stunned.
Jonathan was thunderstruck.
If there was ever a moment that felt like being struck by lightning, this was it for Jonathan.
Niamh, right in front of him, had just embraced another man–willingly.
His hand, clenched in the of this tailored trousers, dug so hard his nails left
crescents in his palm. He was
mb from the pain.
For a split second, Jonathan wondered if he was the one dreaming.
1/3
10:17 T
He’d imagined how Niamh might act after their divorce–maybe she’d struggle too proud to ask for help, eventually coming to him with her head bowed. Or perhaps she’d pretend she didn’t care, showing off her independence.
But he had never, ever imagined her in another man’s arms–especially not in front of him.
He stepped forward.
But he didn’t interfere.
Or rather, before he could do anything, Niamh had already let Elmer go.
So he held back.
Only Marina noticed him take that step.
She watched Jonathan.
Jonathan watched Niamh.
Niamh watched Elmer.
And Elmer watched Niamh.
Niamh wiped her face haphazardly with the back of her hand, only smearing the tears and mascara even more.
Elmer couldn’t help but smile. He pulled a crisp, white handkerchief from his suit pocket and handed it to her.
Finally, Niamh managed to clean her face.
“And blow your nose, too,” Elmer murmured gently.
Niamh didn’t hesitate–she took the handkerchief and did just that.
Despite the years apart, the ease between them was unmistakable, a quiet understanding that left no room for anyone else.
“Well, well, Niamh,” Marina’s voice cut through the air, sharp as a needle. “Barely divorced from Jonathan and you’ve already found yourself a new boyfriend?”
A murmur rippled through the guests:
“That’s her, isn’t it? Mr. Thomas’s ex–wife…”
“Didn’t they say she only goes after rich heirs?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Like, for a hookup?”
10.17
Chapter 03
A cluster of society women gossiped, their curiosity burning–until they glanced up and met Elmer’s gaze, standing close by.
Elmer was strikingly handsome, but in a way entirely different from Jonathan’s sharp, chiseled features. Where Jonathan looked like a leading man carved from marble, all intensity and bravado, Elmer had the refined, almost ethereal beauty of an artist’s muse–something classical, almost otherworldly.
If he were dressed in period costume, he’d be the kind of man poets wrote sonnets
about.
Even in a modern white suit, that timeless grace lingered. He was the kind of man you could lose your heart to at first sight.
A flush crept up the women’s cheeks.
“Ladies,” Elmer said with calm authority, “spreading rumors without evidence is slander. You may not care about your own reputations, but I’m sure your husbands
do.”
The women blanched, caught off guard.
Still, not everyone was so easily intimidated.
“And who are you, anyway? Just a pretty face. My husband’s the principal of Westfield High-”
Before she could finish, the mayor and the superintendent of schools approached
Elmer.
“Dr. White is a leading Al expert recruited by our Aldonia government,” the mayor announced with a proud smile. “He’s here as my personal guest, and tonight’s gala is held in his honor.”
