He Waited for Fifteen Years Chapter 02

He Waited for Fifteen Years Chapter 02

The box had hard edges. The corner caught me right across the jaw.

Blood welled up immediately.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. No one stepped forward.

I touched the wound. My fingertips came away red. The Lowell in front of me blurred and merged with the man from my last life. The one who had humiliated me in front of the entire board.

Something inside me went utterly cold.

“I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do.”

“Fine. Don’t regret this.”

Lowell pulled Talia closer and walked out.

My parents saw the cut and their faces drained of color. They took me home immediately and had our private physician treat it.

Watching them fuss over me, a realization hit me for the first time. A real one.

They were still alive.

The DeLuca assets were still here.

This time, Lowell DeLuca and Talia Whitfield had nothing to do with me.

A few days later, the Lombardi family sent the engagement gifts.

Custom wooden crates arrived one after another, stacking up in the foyer of our townhouse. The most valuable piece was a diamond bracelet. A Lombardi heirloom. The previous matriarch had worn it for sixty years. They had it shipped from the family vault in Montana, specifically for this.

I looked at that bracelet and felt a sting behind my eyes.

In my last life, Lowell’s branch of the family knew perfectly well that I had loved him for years. They still put out word to the press that they had never approved of me. That I was the one clinging to him. That they were only agreeing under duress.

No engagement party.

No respect of any kind.

The wedding itself was just two families eating dinner at a restaurant. His parents spent the entire meal listing my flaws. Lowell stared at his phone the whole time.

Now, the way the Lombardi family was handling things made me even more certain. I had chosen the right man this time.

I decided to go to that old tailor shop on Fifth Avenue myself. I wanted to design Shepard’s engagement suit.

That shop had been the DeLuca family’s private tailor since my great-great-grandfather’s generation. The old master tailor was walking me through the details of French cuffs and cufflink engraving when the bell above the door chimed.

Lowell walked in, Talia’s hand in his.

“What are you doing here?”

The moment he saw me, disgust settled over his face.

The tailor explained. “Miss DeLuca wants to personally design her fiancé’s engagement suit.”

Lowell glanced at the sketches on the table and lifted his chin.

“I told you. I’m not marrying you. Nothing you do will change that.”

He paused.

“And I hate engraved cufflinks. It’s tacky.”

I glanced down at the “S” on the sketch. It only hit me then. He had misunderstood.

“Those cufflinks are actually for—”

“Lowell. This gown is stunning.”

Talia cut me off.

She stepped over and ran her fingers along the deep red evening gown. The one I had designed for my engagement party.

Lowell’s expression softened instantly.

“If you like it, have the tailor make you one just like it.”

“But I want to wear it tonight. To the Broadway premiere with you.”

She said it almost in a whine. Lowell smiled and turned to the tailor. His voice snapped into command mode.

“Alter it to Miss Whitfield’s measurements. Don’t make us late for tonight.”

I frowned.

“Lowell. That’s my engagement gown.”

He didn’t care.

“I don’t have time for whatever engagement party you’re planning. Besides, red suits Talia better than it ever suited you.”

Talia looked at me from behind his back. The expression on her face was unmistakable. But the words out of her mouth were the same fake-sweet performance as always.

“If Miss DeLuca doesn’t want to give it up, then forget it. A gown this expensive. It’s not like I could ever afford it.”

“Don’t say that. The woman I love deserves the best.”

Lowell turned back to me. His tone went ice-cold.

“Verona DeLuca is just spending her family trust. She’s no better than anyone else.”

He handed the gown directly to the tailor.

The tailor didn’t take it.

He just stood there, waiting for my word.

The DeLuca family had been spending money at this shop a hundred years before anyone Lowell had ever met.

That silent refusal made Lowell’s mood even uglier.

“You—”

“Miss Whitfield likes it. Let her have it.”

I cut him off.

Lowell’s expression eased a fraction.

“If you’re this reasonable all the time, I might be able to tolerate dinner with you once a month after the wedding.”

He said it like he was handing me a reward.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

“Lowell.”

He looked at me.

“What exactly made you think I was marrying you?”