Chapter 229: Fan The Flames Between Them
Ophelia settled into the plush velvet chair, a contented sigh escaping her lips. The party was everything she had hoped for, a dazzling display of wealth and influence. She had managed to attend without Edward, a small victory that filled her with a sense of quiet triumph. She had proven to herself, and to him, that she could navigate these social circles on her own, that she didn’t need his condescending presence to validate her existence.
Sometimes she kept herself up, wondering why she was still with him. Twenty five years of marriage and what had he brought to her life besides his disdain and constant gambling debts? He had not aged well, his hair was falling out, the only thing he had going for him with his family name and that without any money was just impoverished gentility.
For the umpteenth time she thought about divorcing him. But she knew that would go nowhere, she and Edward were tied together, not only by the fact that they had married without a prenup but also thanks to the secrets that bound them together, the only thing that would rid them of each other was death.
Her dress, a masterpiece of shimmering silk and intricate beading, hugged her curves in all the right places, accentuating her figure and commanding attention. The stunning, expensive jewelry adorning her neck and wrists, glittering under the soft glow of the chandeliers, added a touch of regal elegance to her ensemble. She felt radiant, confident, and utterly herself. She had aged pretty well, and there was no Maeve for comparisons to be made.
She could not imagine still being told that she was pretty, "but not as beautiful as her younger sister." Just thinking about it made bile rise to her throat. She shrugged off those depressing thoughts, she was at a party where she was to be celebrated, why was she still thinking about Maeve?
The paparazzi had flocked to her as she entered, their cameras flashing, their voices shouting her name. She had posed gracefully, her smile genuine, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She relished the attention, the feeling of being seen, of being admired. It was a stark contrast to the dismissive glances and condescending remarks she often received from Edward.
She took a sip of her champagne, the bubbles tickling her nose, the crisp, sweet liquid a delightful contrast to the lingering bitterness of her marital frustrations. She watched the other guests, their faces illuminated by the soft light, their conversations a low hum of background noise. She felt a sense of belonging, a sense of being part of something special.
She had proven herself. She had shown Edward and everyone else that she was a force to be reckoned with. A woman of substance and style.
Suddenly, her gaze fell upon a figure seated at a table across the ballroom and for a moment, she thought that she might have had too many drinks of bubbly. But as she narrowed her eyes and stared intently, she realized she was not seeing things, it was Kenneth, Kenneth Stuart.