Chapter 12
“No.”
“Because of me?”
There it was.
I studied her.
“You think Gabriel funded your scholarship because you’re engaged to Julian?”
Her expression tightened.
“I don’t know what I think.”
“It began before you were engaged.”
She looked at Gabriel.
He nodded.
“Several years before.”
Dalia looked embarrassed.
I surprised myself by feeling sorry for her.
She had entered the evening believing she was Julian’s triumphant new life.
Now she had discovered one of the most powerful men in the room had been connected to her career before Julian had ever put a ring on her finger.
The world was suddenly larger than the story Julian had told her.
“Congratulations,” she said finally.
Her eyes lowered toward my stomach.
The word sounded sincere.
“Thank you.”
She hesitated.
Then, almost too quietly to hear, she said, “Julian told me you couldn’t have children.”
My entire body went cold.
Gabriel’s chair moved slightly.
I put my hand on the table.
“What?”
Dalia immediately looked as if she wished she could take the words back.
“He said—”
“What exactly did he say?”
She swallowed.
“That the marriage had been over emotionally for years. That you wanted children and… couldn’t have them.”
“That it destroyed you. That you stopped wanting a life with him.”
I stared at her.
There are lies that surprise you.
Then there are lies that simply finish a picture you have been refusing to look at.
All those articles.
All those anonymous sources.
All the phrases that sounded too polished to be accidental.
Fertility struggles strained the marriage.
Khloe became withdrawn.
Julian stood by her.
Maybe Julian had never said those things publicly.
Maybe he had never needed to.
He had simply said enough privately for the version of events he wanted to spread.
“Dalia,” Gabriel said, his voice careful, “I think this conversation should happen somewhere without an audience.”
She looked around.
Only then did she seem to realize people were watching.
I stood.
“I need some air.”
Gabriel rose immediately.
“I’ll come.”
“No.”
He stopped.
I touched his arm.
“I’m okay.”
He searched my face.
“Are you?”
“No.”
I appreciated that he didn’t make me lie twice.
“I need five minutes.”
“All right.”
I walked toward the corridor outside the ballroom.
My heels sounded too loud against the marble.
I passed a row of enormous floral arrangements.
A staff member smiled at me.
I kept walking.
I made it to a quiet alcove near the coatrooms before the anger hit.