Chapter 8 Masks And Manipulations

The car rolled to a stop in the long, grand driveway. Suzanne stared out the window, her fingers tightening around the seatbelt as she took in the sight before her. A line of maids stood at attention, their faces glowing with excitement. The moment they spotted her, they erupted into cheerful shouts. “Welcome back, ma’am!” Her gaze darted to the house, now decorated with bright balloons and flowing ribbons—festive, almost surreal. The air smelled faintly of fresh roses, a scent she hadn’t associated with this place in years. She swallowed. Why does this feel so… off? “Is this real?” she murmured, half to herself. Beside her, Charles opened his mouth to answer, but another voice beat him to it. "Of course, it’s real, dear." Beatrice. Suzanne turned to find her mother-in-law stepping forward, her expression the perfect blend of warmth and authority. She reached out, taking Suzanne’s hands in hers, her grip firm. “You deserve nothing less than the best.” Her voice was gentle—too gentle. The kind of tone laced with something just beneath the surface. Suzanne forced a smile, though suspicion curled in her stomach. Beatrice had never been cruel to her, but she had never been this kind either. What are they trying to prove? The maids rushed forward, eagerly gathering her bags before she could even protest. Charles placed a protective hand on the small of her back, guiding her inside. --- The Bedroom Charles eased her down onto the bed, adjusting the pillows behind her with careful precision. The way he looked at her—soft, focused—made something tighten in her chest. Where was the cold, distant man she had been married to? “I know the doctor said you need rest,” he said, his voice steady but gentle. “But I want to take you out for dinner. Celebrate this moment. Just the two of us.” She hesitated. It had been so long since he had wanted to celebrate anything with her. Still, she nodded. Maybe he really is trying. “I like this new you,” she admitted, tilting her head, watching him. “It feels like we’re starting over.” Something flickered in his eyes—regret, maybe? Guilt? Or is it just another performance? He exhaled, reaching for her hand, giving it a small squeeze. “I’ll do my best to be the man you deserve,” he murmured. “I want to make it right.” For a fleeting second, she almost believed him. Then, his phone beeped. The moment shattered. His jaw clenched as he pulled it out, eyes scanning the screen. “I have to go to the office,” he sighed, sounding genuinely reluctant. “I’ll send a dress over for you. I want tonight to be perfect.” He leaned down, brushing a kiss against her forehead before straightening. And then, just like that, he was gone. Suzanne stared at the door long after he had left. She wanted to believe this change was real. But something inside her warned her to be careful. --- Charles’s Office – The Other Side of the chapter. The door was ajar when Charles arrived. Inside, Sarah sat stiffly in the chair, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. Her expression sharpened when she saw him, a mixture of frustration and something darker. Jealousy. He shut the door behind him, already in damage control mode. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately, voice low. “I had to make it look real, Sarah. It’s not what you think.” Her eyes narrowed. “Oh? So you weren’t just playing the doting husband? Holding her hand? Looking at her like she’s your whole world?” Charles exhaled. This is going to be harder than I thought. “It’s a game,” he insisted, stepping toward her. “I need her to trust me. She won’t sign over anything if she suspects a damn thing.” Sarah studied him, her lips pursing. Then, just like that, her features softened, and a slow smirk crept onto her face. She stood, closing the distance between them. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered, “I can’t lose you, Charles.” His hands settled on her waist instinctively. “I know,” he murmured. Her nails grazed the back of his neck. “So make her believe you. Make her love you again. Then take what we need from her and divorce her.” She pulled back slightly, her gaze dark. “I want to be your wife. Not your mistress.” Charles tensed. Her words weren’t a request. They were a demand. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, finally, he nodded. “I’ll handle it.” Sarah’s smirk returned. “Good.” She reached for him, but he beat her to it—lifting her effortlessly onto the desk, crashing his lips against hers. Their movements were hurried, heated, but before it could go any further— A knock. They froze. Charles stepped back, adjusting his tie as Sarah smoothed her dress. “Come in,” he called, voice even. The door creaked open, and his assistant stepped inside. Her eyes flicked between them, lingering on Sarah before she quickly bowed her head. “I have the files you requested, sir.” Charles extended a hand. “Give them to me.” The assistant obeyed, then turned to leave. As soon as the door shut, Sarah reached for him again. But this time, Charles stepped back. “We need to be careful,” he warned. “The staff is starting to notice.” Sarah scowled. “Then fix it.” She grabbed her purse and stormed out. Charles let out a slow breath, rubbing his temples. This was getting messier than he had planned. --- Back at the House – Suzanne’s Doubts Sitting on the edge of the bed, Suzanne reached into her bag, searching for her phone. Her fingers brushed against something unfamiliar. She frowned, pulling out a small, crisp card. Liam Carter. Her breath hitched. How did this get here? She stared at the name, her mind flickering back to the hospital. To his words. "You don’t have to stay in this, Suzanne. You have choices." Her fingers tightened around the card. Could she really do it? Could she really raise this child on her own? Before she could dwell on the thought any longer, a sudden ring jolted her back to reality. Her phone. She dug under the pillow and pulled it out. Charles. Her stomach twisted. She hesitated, then answered. “Hey,” she said softly. “I’m waiting downstairs,” came his reply. His voice was warm. Almost too warm. There was something in it—expectation. Suzanne exhaled, pushing to her feet. She smoothed her dress, glanced at herself in the mirror. Her hand went to her stomach, rubbing it gently. Then, without another thought, she turned and walked toward the door.