Page 68 of My Ruthless Husband

“But,” he adds with a subtle shift in tone, “as we come together for this noble cause, we must also recognize that beauty often conceals hidden depths, just as the grandest of galas can hide the struggles of those who attend.” The room grows still as his voice deepens, carrying a weight of sincerity that contrasts with his initial charm.

“You see,” he continues, “I, too, have experienced the shadows that can cloud the mind and heart. Mental health challenges do not discriminate. They touch the lives of many, even those who may seem to have it all.”

As he reveals his own vulnerability, the audience falls under a spell as he continues to talk. His words are a powerful reminder that no one is immune to the challenges of mental health, and that seeking help and support is a sign of strength, not weakness.

The handsome stranger keeps catching my eye. Each time our gazes inadvertently meet, it makes me feel out of depth.

When the uniformed server moves gracefully through the crowd, balancing a tray laden with glistening champagne flutestoward me, I grab one. The cool glass against my palm offers a welcome distraction.

Maybe I am reading too much into something that isn’t there. It can be a co-incidence. Maybe he didn’t mean to look at my way every so often. It might be one of those awkward situations where you lock eyes with a complete stranger over and over again without wanting to because they are merely in your line of sight.

Only one way to find out. I begin walking and don’t stop until I’m far out of his vision. If he is purposefully staring, he’ll have to turn his head to do so.

Taking a deep breath, I lift my head again to test him and find him staring straight at me. But this time, his lips are curved up in an amused smile.

I frown, my fingers tightening around the flute. It makes me so confused that I don’t notice the subtle shift in the air until a sudden, unexpected touch startles me. I gasp in surprise as a possessive and muscled arm snakes around my waist.

Startled, I turn to see Damian. His eyes hold a dark and unnerving intensity, a sense of danger that makes my heart race. His grip around my waist is unyielding, sending an unsettling chill down my spine.

Did he witness the stranger staring at me? My heart stops in my chest. If he sees something he doesn’t like, he could strip away the little bit of freedom I’ve managed to get from him. And I can’t afford that.

“You all right?” He asks and my brows crease with confusion. Then I remember that he is referring to our very public kiss from earlier. He knows I was flustered and was avoiding the group.

“Oh. Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

“Sir,” Hal interjects. “I believe it’s time to take your seats at the table.”

Damian, though still studying me, seems to relent slightly. Without a word, he releases his hold on my waist, but his dark gaze remains fixed on me.

As Hal guides us toward our table, I can’t help but feel relieved. Damian and Hal are sharp. Nothing escapes them. They must’ve completely missed that guy’s blatant staring; otherwise, there’s no way they’d stay this calm after seeing it.

The night continues to unfold, the speeches progressing with heartfelt sincerity, each one highlighting the importance of mental health awareness and the value of volunteer work. While Damian chats with other couples who join our table, I find my attention wandering, drawn to a speaker who shares her experiences as a volunteer for the mental health charity.

An idea strikes me. I can do volunteer work. Her words resonate deeply with me, and I can’t help but admire her dedication. And this could also serve as a purpose for me to venture out of the house.

I needed a reason to go out of the house. He’d agreed to let me leave the house, but he’d never let me work. The thought of me being gone for hours would never sit right with him. Asking for that would be pointless. But this... this could be my chance.

Volunteering would help me. Damian had given my phone back, but I’m sure he’s tracking it alongside having all the activity monitored. So I can’t seek help through the phone but going out and volunteering would give me the opportunity to meet new people.

The thought of working and helping others fills me with spirit, I can only hope it would help me get out of my husband’s steel-like hold.

I glance at him and find him still engrossed in a conversation about his ongoing project.

This isn’t the time or place to tell him about my interest in volunteer work. He wouldn’t understand. He’s very intuitive andsharp. He knows how much I want to leave. I’ll have to carefully plan what I have to say before discussing it with him. Because one small mistake, and I can kiss my freedom goodbye.

And I need this. I need something to break the endless cycle of loneliness and misery. I won’t be seeing Summer anytime soon. In a way, this could be my own therapy—something to help me manage the stress, the anxiety. It’s the only way I’ll feel like I’m doing something with my life again.

After the speeches, dinner is served, and the atmosphere takes on a more relaxed tone. I excuse myself to use the restroom.

After washing my hands, I stand before the bathroom mirror and gaze at my reflection, taking in the elegant attire and the mask of composure I’ve worn throughout the evening.

It’s been a long night, a rollercoaster of emotions but being here, witnessing people share their journeys was worth it.

Tucking my hair, I give my reflection a once over before venturing out of the restroom.

The room seems more packed than before. It takes a moment to spot Damian across the sea of people. I find him standing at the farthest corner of the room. But he’s not alone.

A beautiful woman with fair skin and golden hair cascading down her shoulder, dressed in a shimmering crimson red is with him.

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