(Emily's POV)
I was still in the study, the letter to "J" trembling in my hands, when the elevator dinged. Adrian was back. I shoved the letter into the drawer, slamming it shut, and grabbed my tablet to look busy. My heart raced, My son will know his father's name. Victoria had a son? With who?
"Emily?" Adrian's voice came from the hall.
"In here!" I called, standing quickly. He walked in, his suit rumpled from the board meeting, his eyes tired but sharp.
"What are you doing?" he asked, glancing at the desk.
"Just checking emails," I lied, holding up my tablet. "PR's pushing the marriage story. It's trending."
He nodded, loosening his tie. "Good. We've got a gala tonight. Charity thing. We need to go."
"Tonight?" I blinked. "It's already 6 PM."
"Starts at 8," he said, heading for the stairs. "Wear something nice. Clara sent dresses."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he was gone. My phone buzzed, Sophia. I ignored it. No time for her warnings. I hurried to the guest room, where a garment bag waited on the bed. Inside was a navy gown, sleek and elegant, with a note from Clara: Knock 'em dead. I sighed, slipping it on. The mirror showed a stranger, poised, but not me.
Downstairs, Adrian was ready, his tux perfect, his hair neat. He glanced at me, his eyes flicking over the gown. "Looks good," he said, like he was checking a box.
"Thanks," I mumbled, grabbing my clutch. My stomach churned. A gala? Now? With that letter burning in my mind?
In the car, Adrian scrolled through his phone, silent. I stared out the window, the city lights blurring. "What's the gala for?" I asked, needing to fill the quiet.
"Cancer research," he said, not looking up. "Big donors, big press. We need to look solid."
"Solid," I repeated. "Got it."
He glanced at me, his brow furrowing. "You okay?"
"Fine," I said, forcing a smile. "Just… a lot today."
He nodded, then went back to his phone. I clutched my clutch, Victoria's letter echoing. My son. I wanted to ask him about it, but the words stuck.
The gala was at the Met, a sea of chandeliers and black-tie glamour. Cameras flashed as we stepped out of the car, Adrian's hand on my back guiding me through the crowd. Reporters shouted questions, "Mrs. Sinclair, how's married life?", and I smiled, waving, playing the part.
Inside, the ballroom buzzed. Waiters glided with champagne, and string music floated over the chatter. Margaret stood near a marble pillar, her silver hair gleaming, her smile tight as she spotted us. "Adrian, Emily," she said, kissing his cheek, then mine. Her grip on my arm was too tight. "You're late."
"Traffic," Adrian said, grabbing a drink from a passing tray. "Where's the board?"
"Circling like sharks," Margaret said, her eyes on me. "Emily, you look… adequate."
"Thanks," I said, my face hot. Adequate. Great.
A woman in a red gown approached, all teeth and perfume. "Mrs. Sinclair!" she gushed, shaking my hand. "I'm Lydia Crane. You're the talk of the town."
"Nice to meet you," I said, forcing a smile. Adrian was already pulled away by a man in a suit, leaving me with Lydia and Margaret.
"Lydia, don't overwhelm her," Margaret said, her voice sweet but her eyes cold. "Emily's still adjusting."
"Oh, she's doing fine," Lydia said, winking at me. "Everyone's saying how poised you are, Emily. Stepping in like that? Brave."
I nodded, my throat tight. Margaret's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Yes, Emily's quite the… surprise," she said. "A natural, really."
"Thanks," I said again, feeling her stare like a blade. Lydia chattered about the auction, but I barely heard her. Margaret's praise was a performance, and I was the prop.
I escaped to the bar, needing a breather. The bartender slid me a soda, and I sipped it, watching the crowd. Adrian was across the room, laughing with a group of men, his charm on full display. He hadn't looked at me once.
"Rough night?" a voice said. I turned to see a woman in a gold dress, her hair piled high. She looked familiar, maybe a socialite from the wedding guest list. "I'm Vanessa Holt," she said, leaning closer. "You're Emily, right? The new Mrs. Sinclair?"
"Yeah," I said, wary. "Hi."
She smirked, swirling her drink. "You're braver than I'd be, marrying him after Victoria."
My stomach twisted. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, honey," she said, her voice low. "Victoria never loved him. She loved his money, and someone else."
I froze, the letter to "J" flashing in my mind. "Someone else?"
Vanessa nodded, glancing around. "Some big shot. Married, powerful. She thought he'd leave his wife for her. Guess she was wrong."
"How do you know this?" I asked, my voice sharp.
"Gossip travels," she said, shrugging. "Victoria wasn't subtle. Ask around. You'll see."
I opened my mouth, but she was already walking away, her gold dress glinting. My hands shook as I set down my glass. Victoria, in love with someone else? Was "J" the man? And the son, her son, was he Adrian's? Or this other guy's?
I needed air. I slipped through a side door to a quiet balcony, the city skyline sparkling below. My phone buzzed, Nathaniel. I answered, keeping my voice low.
"Em, you at that gala?" he asked, sounding annoyed. "I saw your Instagram."
"Yeah," I said, rubbing my temple. "It's a lot."
"You shouldn't be there," he said. "I checked Victoria's hotel. Staff said she left in a hurry, no bags, no nothing. Something's off."
"Off how?" I asked, Vanessa's words echoing.
"Dunno yet," he said. "But I'm digging. You okay?"
"Not really," I admitted. "Nate, I found something. A letter from Victoria. It mentioned a son."
A pause. "A son? Hers?"
"I think so," I said. "It was to someone named J. Not Adrian."
"Damn," he said. "Send me a pic of it. I'll look into it."
"I can't. It's in Adrian's study. Locked up."
"Then get it," he said. "Em, this is bad. You're in too deep."
"I know," I whispered, my eyes stinging. "I'll call you tomorrow."
I hung up, my chest tight. Victoria's letter, Vanessa's gossip, Margaret's fake praise, it was too much. I blinked back tears, staring at the city lights.
"Emily?" Daniel's voice came from the doorway. I turned, wiping my eyes quickly.
"Hey," I said, forcing a smile. "Just needed a break."
He stepped closer, his face serious. "You're not okay. What happened?"
"Nothing," I lied. "Just… tired."
"Bull," he said, crossing his arms. "I saw you with Vanessa. What'd she say?"
I hesitated, then sighed. "She said Victoria didn't love Adrian. She was with someone else."
Daniel's jaw tightened. "Sounds like her. Emily, you gotta stop this. You're killing yourself for him."
"Stop what?" I snapped. "I'm doing my job."
"Your job?" He laughed, sharp. "You're his wife now. And he's letting you twist in the wind."
I looked away, my throat burning. "It's temporary."
"Is it?" he asked, softer. "Be careful, Em. You deserve better."
He left, and I leaned against the railing, fighting tears. Across the ballroom, through the glass doors, I saw Adrian. He was watching me, his face soft for a moment, like he cared. My heart lifted, then sank as his expression hardened, his eyes cold again. He turned away, and a tear slipped down my cheek, unseen.