His Lover's Dawn, My Cold Floor

hile I upheld our billion-dollar family merger. His latest hotel scandal splashed across the

choose myself. Yet, Dayton cornered me, using my family's ambitions as leverage. He demande

hisper that I was a beautiful woman he couldn't let go of. His jealousy flared when

on the floor of our shared room at his family's estate, d

old floor, I felt his arms wrap around me, his l

cial media showed a new post from his sweetheart, tha

The game was over. He could have his f

pte

a Yor

ee years. It was Jerald Cole, Dayton' s grandfather, and his voice, usually calm and c

with Aspiring Actress." The words burned, not with jealousy, but with a familiar, dull ache of public humiliation. We had been separated for three years, living in different cities, but the world still saw me as Mrs. Cole. His

flat, a practiced calm I' d perfected over y

d," "Dayton always had a soft spot for Kristin." Each word a public carving of my private grief. I saw Kristin' s face in the blurry night-shot, her delic

the words feeling heavy on

s a pause, a moment to brace myself. My heart was a drum against my ribs, a frantic rhythm against my will. I re

n stood by the window, his back to me, the city lights a blur behind him. Kristin was huddled on a plush sofa, a delicate white shawl d

in the ghost of our marriage. Kristin, the victim. Dayton, th

hat made him seem older. But when his gaze landed on me, it was cold, dismissive. "

of the raw pain that clawed at my throat. "He's conce

Dayton was just helping me after... after I had a bad episode. The paparazzi, they just came out of nowher

naged." I looked at Dayton, meeting his unreadable eyes. "The best course of action is to issue a joint statement. A show of solidarity. We' ll say that the

ur marriage?" she whispered, h

rests," I answered, my voice firm, ignoring the faint tremor in my hands. It was a

audible. She rose slowly, her movements delicate, as if any sudden motion might shatter her. "I should go then.

ks on you tomorrow." His voice was soft, laced with a concern he never offered me, even when I was at my

like ash in my mouth. It was always like this. Dayton' s immediate, almost instinctive care for Kristin, a reflex that se

d engagement. He was brilliant, intense, sometimes even kind. I remember his hand, warm and firm, on my back during our engagement photoshoot, a fleeting touch t

his emotional withdrawal had left me stranded in a silence that echoed with the death of our shared future. After that, he

e the chasm that had opened between us. It was a lonely truth, one I carried with the quiet dignity of a woman who had learned to survive heartbreak in silence. I wa

gh my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. He gestured vaguely a

whisper of my fading hopes. I pulled out a soft cream dress, one I hadn't worn in years, a relic from a time when I still believe

He turned, his eyes scanning me with an almost clinical detachment. "Better," he

gesture for the unseen cameras. His touch was cold, a stark contrast to the warmth I remembered. It was a performance, a

eras. We smiled, we nodded, we played our parts. I leaned into him, feigning intimacy, my head resting lightly aga

bling up inside me. A carefully orchestrated public relations

lips brushing my ear, a mockery of affection. "

expects us at the annual charity gala next week. He wan

engagement." His voice was low, edged with steel

voice unwavering. "He expl

humorless sound. "

ion for everything. My heart clenched, a sharp, painful spasm. How much longer could I pretend? How

the only person who understood the suffocating gilded cage I lived in. She was recovering from a suspicious "accident

arm, a mischievous glint in her eyes despite the pain. "Too

, sinking onto the armchair opposite her,

is a fool." She reached for a stack of papers on her coffee table, her good hand carefully pushing th

riage" stark and final. My breath hitched. This was it. The end. The freedom I c

s his 'childhood sweetheart' around, humiliates you publicly, and you're still consideri

wasn't parading her, Breanna. He was helping her. She was having a

g this 'fragile flower' act for years. Do you remember what happened three years ago? The day of your anniversary, when he stood you up for dinner because

waiting, the phone call. His hushed, concerned voice, telling me he had

He chose her then, Alyssa. He chooses her now. It's ti

. But looking at the blank line where my signature should go, a wave of sadness washed over me. It was more than just a signature. It was the final nail in the coffin of a love I had secretly nursed t