Olivia's face, a canvas of humiliation and wrath, burned a bright crimson as she seethed at Marley's departing figure. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms—a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil.
"Mrs. Adams, please take it easy," cooed the model, her voice a soothing balm that only fueled Olivia's fire. The title hung in the air, heavy with implication and consequence. Olivia's mind raced with panic. Mrs. Adams? The words clawed at her insides, sparking a wild cascade of fear and speculation.
She couldn't stand still, couldn't breathe amidst the suffocating blend of silk and satin. With jerky movements, Olivia turned on her heel, her high heels clicking a staccato rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. She fled through the mall, dodging shoppers and sales racks, desperate to reach the children's play area.
—
"Oscar!" she gasped out, her voice barely above a whisper as she found him, his attention divided between Tricia and a brightly colored puzzle. "I saw Marley—and someone called her Mrs. Adams. What does this mean?"
Oscar's hands stilled, his daughter's laughter fading into the background as he processed Olivia's words. In an instant, his sunny disposition darkened like a storm cloud eclipsing the sun. Tricia's small hand slipped from his grasp as he placed her gently on the ground, his fatherly duties momentarily forgotten.
"Stay here, Pumpkin," he muttered, his tone distant and distracted.
With long, determined strides, Oscar made for the exit, his jaw set in a hard line. He dug into his pocket for a cigarette, the paper tube trembling slightly between his fingers. The flame from his lighter danced in the drafty corridor, the first drag deep and sharp—each puff an attempt to expel the bitter taste of betrayal.
"Marley and Dane," he growled through a haze of smoke, the words leaving a sour residue on his tongue. "They're planning their marriage."
His thoughts churned with the news, the implications churning a sea of anger and disbelief. Dane, his cousin, the ever-elusive bachelor, had finally chosen a bride—and it was Marley, of all people. Oscar's ex-wife, now entangled with his own bloodline.
Oscar's grip on the cigarette tightened, his knuckles whitening as he processed the implications of Marley's new title—Mrs. Adams. The smoke curled around him like a serpent, an emblem of the venomous thoughts that now flooded his mind.
"Marley married into the Adams family?" Olivia's voice pierced through his reverie, sharp with disbelief. Her eyes were saucers of shock, reflecting a truth both had to grapple with.
"Seems so," Oscar muttered sourly, smoke billowing from his lips. The weight of calling her 'cousin-in-law' pressed down on him, a heavy, unwanted mantle that stifled his breath.
Meanwhile, Marley, unaware of the storm she'd inadvertently stirred at the mall, drifted through the bustling crowd like a ghost. Her heart was a drumbeat of unease, quickened by the morning's events. The sterile scent of antiseptic still clung to her skin, a reminder of the hospital visit and the life growing inside her—a secret bound by flesh and blood to Dane Adams.
She brushed past store windows, their mannequins dressed in silent judgment, watching her every move. A pang of frustration twisted in her belly as memories of Olivia's sneering face intruded upon her solitude. The mall had been her sanctuary, a place to forget, if only for a moment, the tangled web of her personal life.
"Can't believe I ran into her here," Marley murmured to herself, her voice barely audible above the din of shoppers. She clutched the shopping bag tighter, the purchase within—men's underwear—a petty trophy from a battle she wished she'd never fought.
As she exited the store, the fluorescent lights of the mall bore down on her, each one casting a spotlight on her troubled thoughts. Betrayal seemed to be her constant shadow—the betrayal of Oscar, now the twisted fate that linked her to Dane.
"Should've stayed home," she chastised herself, her walk brisk as she sought escape. The voices of the crowd swirled around her, indistinct chatter that somehow amplified her isolation.
Marley's day had begun with a routine check-up, the heartbeat of her unborn child a steady promise of change. Yet, the serenity of that moment had been shattered by an unexpected confrontation, leaving her spirit frayed at the edges.
The whispers of the grand Adams' residence were nothing compared to the cacophony of the mall, but as Marley Brooks stepped through its imposing doors, she felt a different kind of noise clawing at her mind. The servant, with hushed urgency, approached her, his voice barely above the din of her own racing thoughts.
"Miss Brooks, Master Sebastian requests your presence immediately," he said, eyes darting as if carrying clandestine secrets of their own.
Marley nodded, her heart finding an uneven rhythm. She had been cautious in this gilded cage, each day with the Adams family stretching into an eternity of veiled glances and whispered judgments. Breakfasts with the elder Adams were appointments of necessity, not comfort, and Dane's absence had been a balm to her frayed nerves.
"I'll go to him," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.
Heels clicking against the marble floor, Marley made her way to the hall of the main house, her movements as measured as her breaths. The walls, lined with portraits of stoic ancestors, seemed to scrutinize her every step, the weight of expectation pressing down like a physical force.
Then, the baritone boom of Sebastian Adams' voice sliced through the silence, a knife of discontent that pierced the air. "That bad boy, agreed to get married then just leave his fiancé here!"
Marley paused, her pulse quickening. The old man's temper was as legendary as his fortune, and she braced herself for the storm to come.
"Master Dane is on a business trip in Europe," Thomas, the ever-diplomatic butler, attempted to soothe with a practiced calmness that bordered on artful.
"Leisure! That's all that ugly brat wants after registering his marriage. Running away like a coward," Sebastian's voice thundered, riddled with equal parts fury and disappointment.
"Please, sir, let us not raise our voices. It isn't good for your health," Thomas interjected again, his tone gently chiding.
Marley lingered in the shadows, a silent witness to the tempest behind the doors. Her heart sympathized with the old man's frustrations, yet selfishly rejoiced in Dane's absence. His presence brought complexities and memories she dared not entertain, least of all now, with his child growing inside her.
Sebastian's sigh carried the weight of a thousand unfulfilled wishes, echoing through the oak-paneled corridor like a ghostly lament. "I've tried, God knows I've tried," he murmured, his voice a stark contrast to the earlier bellowing. "Every eligible maiden introduced, yet none could hold a candle to Coline. Dane's heart remains with her, even as she rests beneath the earth."
Marley's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the cold brass doorknob, the metal biting into her palm. A shiver darted down her spine, not from the chill of the grand house, but from the raw pain in Sebastian's tone. She could feel the old man's grief tangling with frustration, a knotted skein of emotions unraveling thread by thread.
"Coline Lewis," Sebastian continued wistfully, his words softening with remembrance. "That girl had a sparkle, much like Marley. If only... if only things were different between her and my grandson."
If only. The words hung in the air, pregnant with possibilities and regrets. The very fabric of Marley's life seemed woven with those same threads—if onlys that fashioned her past, present, and future into a tapestry of 'what might have been.'