Chapter 4: The Red Dress Betrayal

While I was crying in the hallway, Marco handed me a fancy paper bag.

"Mrs. Solis, these are the chocolates Caspian drove out to buy for you before the ambush."

Seeing the familiar logo, my eyes stung. It was his peace offering.

"He does not even remember me. What is the point?" I smiled bitterly, refusing to take it.

"Mrs. Solis, listen to me," Marco stepped closer, lowering his voice. "The whole city knows Caspian is obsessed with you. He would never cheat. It is the concussion messing with his head!"

"The doctor said once the swelling goes down, he will be back to normal. Right now, his subconscious is probably projecting you onto Ivy!"

Projecting me onto Ivy?

"Think about it. For twenty years, he has been the one chasing you, spoiling you," Marco sighed. "Now that he is hurt, maybe his subconscious just wants you to lower your pride and coax him a little. Why do you not try to trigger his memory?"

I hesitated. Marco's words hit a soft spot.

For twenty years, he had treated me like a queen. Was I really going to give up on him over a misunderstanding when he was at his most vulnerable?

I was convinced.

Swallowing my pride, I went home and changed into the red silk slip dress Caspian loved most. He always said I looked like a siren in it.

I took a deep breath in front of the mirror. Go get your husband back.

I returned to the hospital. The door was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open, about to call his name, but the word died in my throat.

The bed was empty.

I glanced toward the balcony.

Caspian had Ivy pinned against the glass railing. They were kissing. Hard, desperate, and hungry.

What suffocated me even more was that Ivy was wearing the exact same red dress as me.

Except her neckline was torn open, exposing her pale skin. Caspian's hands were roaming freely over her body. His eyes were dark with raw, unfiltered lust—a look he used to reserve only for me.

"Caspian... not here..." Ivy panted, her lips swollen.

"Why not?" Caspian's voice was gravelly as he bit down on her collarbone. "You are mine."

My brain exploded. Nausea clawed at my throat, making it hard to breathe.

Was this Marco's memory confusion? Was this him projecting me onto her?

No.

He knew exactly who was in his arms. He was just enjoying a younger body.

I felt like a complete clown, wearing my little battle armor just to watch my husband betray me live.

I did not scream. I did not storm in. I just turned and ran.

As I rounded the corner of the hallway, I crashed hard into a solid chest.

"Sorry..." I stumbled back, glancing up.

Two men stood in front of me. One was Marco.

The other was a man in a bespoke black suit. He was tall, broad, and radiated a cold, lethal authority that made people afraid to look him in the eye.

It was Zane.

The uncrowned king of New York's underworld, Caspian's biggest rival, and his ally.

I must have looked pathetic. Red eyes, pale face, wearing a flashy red dress, running away like a loser.

I did not have the energy to speak. I covered my mouth and ran past them toward the elevator.

Tears hit the floor as I turned away. I did not look back, but I could feel a heavy gaze burning into my back the entire time.