His Lover's Dawn, My Cold Floor

a Yor

's social media post was a perfectly crafted dagger, confirming my suspicions and twisting the knife of humiliation deep

uld channel every ounce of my energy into what truly mattered: my career. My new architecture firm, st

sion, long dormant under the weight of my suffocating marriage, reignited with an incandescent flame. I secured a major contract for

walking through the lobby of a high-end hotel, a spring in my step. I had just cl

ragile as ever. And next to her, deep in conversation, was Dayton. His head was inclined towards her, a rare, gentle smile

whispered in my head, a painful echo

re morphing into a carefully constructed mask of surprise and a hint of innocent

by a cool, unreadable gaze. He stood up, his pos

t. "Dayton was just telling me about his new project. It sounds absolutely fascinating. He' s so bri

film auditions," Dayton interjected, his voice flat, cutting of

ways so supportive. He really is my rock." She turned back to me, her smile sickly sweet. "Would you

me when Dayton would share every detail of his projects with me, his eyes alight with excitement. Those conversations had been t

t. "I just finished a very successful negotiation myself. I'm actually quite famished, and I have

"Negotiations, Alyssa? Impressive. Perhaps you should tell us about it.

my professional triumphs with him, under Kristin's watchful eye, felt like laying

lyssa. You really must try it. Dayton always orders the truffle pasta. It

moon, a place that served the most exquisite truffle pasta. It had become our secret, our dish. He had told me then tha

ized beside us, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. "Alyssa! Dayton! What a coinci

yton said, his voice clipped. "

tin countered sweetly, her hand reaching for Day

of his jaw. "Alyssa has other engagements, Kristin. She's

ent wife, the obstacle. "Indeed," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I have a lot on my plate." I felt a sudd

onversations, feeling like an invisible ghost. I found a quiet corner near the exit, my

esitate. I dashed out of the hotel, hailed a cab, and sped towa

Breanna in a private room, looking pale but defiant, her bandaged

exclaimed, a faint smile on her lips. "I to

es as serious, Breanna," I retorted, trying to keep

Thorne case. A little car 'malfunction' on the highway. Nothing I c

lly?" I asked, my han

"Though it seems my recovery will take a little longer. Whic

my mind. "It's... complicated. He's agreed to the separation, but with conditions. I have to maintain the façade, publicl

Alyssa. The longer you stay, the harder it will be to leave. Trust me, I've seen

ng me. "But I have to protect my family's

e," Breanna muttered, clearly unconvi

her unwavering friendship. When I finally returned to my temporary apartment, it

bed, opting for the solitude and peace of the living room. Dayton wasn't home, a fact that brought a

s of my public life. I was free here, if only for a few hour

ther, Jerald Cole. "Alyssa, I trust you're preparing for the family meeting tomorrow morning. It's

ulled myself out of bed, heading for the shower. As I was getting ready, Dayton walked in, his

ple, elegant dress. "You're going with that?" h

ched. "Is the

ed. More traditional. You're representing the York family, after all, and you're still

propriate, understated, and professional. "Wha

Grandfather appreciates tradition." He turned to leave, then paused at the door. He looked at me again, his expression unreadable. "It's just... I don't want Grand

inst reclaiming my identity too soon? The thought that he might secretly care about my appearance, about what his grandfather thought