His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 20

His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 20

At the opening of Boston’s Institute of Contemporary Art, the air-conditioning was a little too strong. Julian was carefully drawing a cashmere shawl tighter around Amelia’s shoulders. Just as his warm fingertips brushed her neck, a familiar voice sounded from behind her, cold enough to chill her to the bone.

“Amelia?”

That voice, mixed with the Creed Aventus cologne she knew so well, was like a key, instantly unlocking every sealed wound. The abandoned nights, the lonely mornings, the cold, empty seats at the table. All the suppressed pain erupted at once, a violent phantom ache.

Amelia turned stiffly.

Griffin stood there, with Daphne clinging to his arm. On their wrists were identical Patek Philippe watches, their platinum bracelets flashing with a cold, matching gleam under the gallery lights.

Her mind went blank. In three years of marriage, she had never owned a single matching accessory with Griffin. He always said such things were too vulgar, that they didn’t suit the Whitaker family’s taste.

So, he didn’t dislike them.

He just hadn’t wanted to own them with her.

An urge to flee seized her, but she rooted herself to the spot, using all her strength to maintain a calm expression.

Julian sensed the instant stiffness in her body, the nearly imperceptible tremor. He said nothing. He only placed his hand gently on her arm, conveying silent comfort with a steady warmth.

That single action was like a needle stabbing Griffin right in the eye. His pupils contracted sharply. His handsome face twisted with a mixture of anger, offense, and betrayal.

“You move fast,” Griffin said, his gaze scraping over Julian like a knife, his tone dripping with contempt. “I’m barely gone, and you’re already desperate enough to find some kept man trying to climb the social ladder?”

The smile on Daphne’s face froze for a moment, then morphed into an expression of someone eager to watch a show.

The air seemed to be sucked from the room.

“Kept man?” Julian didn’t get angry. Instead, he gave a soft, low laugh. His voice was calm, but it was like a block of ice dropped into boiling oil, making the entire scene erupt.

His slender fingers slid naturally down to brush against the antique bracelet on Amelia’s wrist, the one he had recently won for her at an auction in Geneva. The fine diamond chain had been fastened by his own hands. The gesture was filled with an undeniable intimacy and possession.

Julian met Griffin’s gaze. His eyes, usually so gentle, were now sharp as ice. He enunciated each word clearly.

“I don’t think that term is quite appropriate, Mr. Whitaker.”

He paused, giving Griffin just enough time to taste the coming humiliation.

“After all, under Massachusetts law, the uncontested divorce filing has already passed the ninety-day mandatory waiting period. The court’s judgment has taken effect, has it not?”