Page 12 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

“Secret lover,” Stephen replies. “Showing up on Hugo’s arm caused a stir.”

I shake my head in disbelief.

They’re nowhere close to the truth.

Mara arrives about an hour later.

“He’s fine. He went back to his apartment.”

The pressure in my chest eases slightly, though it doesn’t disappear completely.

I hadn’t realized how tense I was until that moment.

Mara removes the brooch pinned to her collar, extracts the SD card hidden inside, and slides it into the laptop. Seconds later, footage from the gala fills the television screen.

First the wide shots. Crystal. Champagne. Power and vanity beneath glittering chandeliers.

Then the entrance.

Dante and Bianca appear together.

Bianca is radiant, draped around him with perfectly rehearsed possessiveness.

Dante moves with effortless confidence.

They greet a few guests.

Then heads begin turning, whispers spreading through the room.

Hugo and I have just entered the ballroom.

Dante is the first to turn.

I study him with clinical detachment.

The shock. Real. Absolute. Impossible to fake. The champagne flute slipping from his fingers without him even noticing. A brief unraveling. Then rage, the instant he realizes it’s truly me.

A second later, his face closes off again.

But fury still radiates from every line of his body.

“Rewind.”

Mara backs up the footage and plays it again.

“This time,” I say, “watch Bianca.”

Shock crosses her face too.

But unlike Dante, she isn’t looking at me.

She’s looking at him.

Fear flashes across her expression—raw, instinctive, immediate.

Mara freezes the frame.

“There. That kind of fear can’t be faked. She’s afraid of his reaction.”