Page 48 of If He Hadn't Cheated
Cain International Annual Gala.
For a long time, I just stare at it.
It’s printed on heavy ivory cardstock, the same kind he uses for his company correspondence. The note inside is short.
You once told me mirrors only show what we want to see.
Come see the truth instead.
— K
My pulse quickens. I close my eyes, holding the invitation against my chest.
I could throw it away. I could stay here and pretend this life I’ve built is enough. But a small voice inside me whispers that maybe it’s time to face him again.
Not as the woman who fell apart.
But as the one who finally learned how to stand on her own.
That night, I look in the mirror for a long time. The reflection looking back isn’t perfect, but she’s stronger. Clearer. Real. I press my fingers to the glass and whisper, “You’re ready.”
23
The night of the gala arrives with the kind of calm that feels like standing at the edge of something familiar and dangerous.
The city glows beneath a cold spring sky. The lights shimmer off the mirrored towers, and for the first time, I don’t feel small looking up at them.
I wear a black gown that hugs my body, simple but sharp. My hair is pulled back, my lips a muted red. I look steady.
I look like someone who finally knows who she is.
The Cain International logo flashes above the hotel entrance. Cameras click as guests arrive, their laughter blending with music from inside.
I take a breath and walk through the glass doors. Hoping this wasn’t a mistake.
The ballroom is everything I remembered about his world. Polished floors. Crystal chandeliers. People dressed like they were born for the spotlight.
I move through the crowd, ignoring the whispers that trail behind me. They remember the headlines. I f course they do. Mypicture was plastered across every social media site. But tonight, I’m not here to hide from them.
Then I see him. Knox stands near the stage, tall and still, his black suit crisp against the gold light. He looks the same, but somehow more at peace. The tension that used to live in his shoulders is gone. He turns as if he feels me watching. Our eyes meet across the room.
For a heartbeat, everything stops.
He moves first. Each step deliberate. Each one bringing the storm back to life inside my chest.
When he reaches me, he doesn’t speak right away. His gaze sweeps over me, not possessive, just certain. Like he’s making sure I’m really here.
“Lana,” he says softly.
“Knox.”
The sound of his name feels different now. Lighter.
“You came.”
“I wasn’t sure I would.”
He nods, eyes searching mine. “You look…” He exhales. “Like you found your peace.”
