Mr Raylen Vale, ever the consummate gentleman, reaches out his hand and grabs the poor girl's face. His eyes are wide with disbelief, horror, or hope—Livia cannot tell. In fact, his expression is one she has never seen before, and it almost twists his features into those of a stranger.
"D-d-laney, what are you doing here?"
"Mr Vale, you seem to have mixed up my colleague with someone else. I can assure you she is not the person you're looking for. Please let her go. Please, she is called Janus. Sir, please. She is not Danielle."
Only at the words of the older reporter does Raylen return partly to his senses. He loosens his grip, straightens his jacket, and offers an eloquent apology.
But no amount of sincerity can change the fact that Raylen Vale—once deemed the most eligible bachelor of the city of Sicaster for five years in a row—has roughly grabbed the face of a timid reporter before a whole array of cameras, journalists, athletes, and fans.
And, of course, his own wife and children.
Miraculous as the Skyline Defenders' victory is, no one's mind is on them anymore.
Oh no, everyone is fixated on Mr Vale's uncharacteristic behaviour.
With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Livia just knows that the media is going to have a field day with this.
The drive home is a solemn one. Cornelius and Cornelia do not know what exactly happened, but they can perceive the frostiness between their parents.
The older reporter may not have caught the name correctly, but Livia certainly did. How could she not? This is the name her husband uses as the password for some of his safes, the name he mumbles in his sleep, and the name he calls her when he is drunk.
Delaney. Sometimes he calls her Laney. Other times he calls her Nini.
Regardless of her name, she is the third party who has always been present in all four years of Livia's relationship with Raylen.
Today Livia finally learns what Delaney looks like. If she is anything like the newbie reporter—who quickly disappeared (and who can blame her)–then she looks washed out. Pale skin, pale hair, pale eyes with a strangeness to them.
She has actually never met Delaney, and she resents her all the more for it. Raylen feels her absence more keenly than he feels Livia's presence. This spectre has more power over her husband's moods than she does, even though she is not just lawfully wedded to him but the mother of his two children.
Livia has always been aware that there is someone else in the relationship. When Raylen proposed, she thought he had ended his relationship with Delaney for good, only to have her peace as the mistress of the household snatched out from under her.
When she is not home, does Delaney visit? Does Delaney brush her fingers against her clothes, touch her bags, sleep on her bed, embrace her husband, befriend her children? Does she order the house staff around? Has every maid—even sweet Alisha or cheerful Elaine or matronly Gertrude—been ordered to collectively deceive Livia in the sanctuary of her own home?
In hindsight, it is obvious that Raylen only proposed because she was pregnant. But she was so in love, so naïve, and so young.
She cannot live like an ostrich with its head shoved into sand and grass any longer. She feels pathetic enough.
"So, who is she?"
The study room seems to chill a bit before Raylen answers her in a tone of affected absentmindedness. "Darling, who are you asking about?"
"Don't call me darling."
The sharpness in her voice finally catches his attention. "Let's not talk about this," he replies, taking her anger seriously for once. "Cornelius and Cornelia may hear us."
"The children," she explains almost victoriously, "are sound asleep. We can have a civil discussion. One that I think is long overdue."
Raylen sighs and does not speak for a few moments. He closes his eyes and rubs his temples with his thumb and middle finger. His long fingers have always bewitched Livia, but now she wants nothing but to tear his hand off his face.
He opens his eyes slowly and looks at her straight. She cannot see a tinge of guilt or shame or defensiveness, and that only adds to her anger. "Livia, what do you want to know?"
"Who the hell is Delaney exactly?"
"You don't need to know who she is."
"Why not?" She sneers. "Am I not allowed to even know who your mistress is?"
"You wrong me. I do not have a mistress. I have never been unfaithful to you."
"You call her name when you're inebriated. Sometimes in your sleep you call out for her too. Delaney. Laney. Nini. They're all the same person, aren't they?"
"Yes, they are."
"Is that all you're going to say?" She is beginning to feel the sting of tears but she refuses to cry. A man so remorseless cannot be moved by tears. "You call me by another woman's name and this is all you have to say to explain yourself? Am I supposed to be grateful that they're one person and not three?"
"No. I ask my question again. What do you want to know?"
"What is her real name?" With that, she can find out on her own who this lingering presence is.
"Delaney Sackville-West," he answers simply. "Or rather, Delaney Isabelle Lynn Sackville-West."
She isn't expecting him to be so truthful. At her surprise, he continues, "But, like I said, none of this matters."
"Why not?"
"Because you're envious of a woman long dead."