I Came Back And They All Chose Her Over Me Chapter 02

I Came Back And They All Chose Her Over Me Chapter 02

Early the next morning, my mother hauled me off to try on gowns.

She said the Beaumonts would arrive early next month, and the welcome reception was set for The Ridge Club. The menu, seating chart, scent profile, and wine service all had to be reviewed from scratch.

At an Ashbourne event, one wrong detail was enough to become dinner-table gossip.

I was so sleepy I could barely keep my eyes open. I sat in front of the vanity and let the stylist work on me while my phone kept buzzing on the table.

Blythe sent more than a dozen messages in a row.

[After your grand exit last night, Elodie cried.]

[Evander took her to the hospital.]

[Dashiell kicked out the ones who couldn’t keep their mouths shut.]

[Cassian said your temper got worse after five years away.]

[Soren didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look thrilled either.]

After reading them, I turned my phone facedown on the table.

The stylist was fastening an earring for me and asked carefully, “Miss Ashbourne, are these diamond drop earrings a little too bold?”

“No.” I looked at myself in the mirror. “I’ve never been subtle.”

My mother heard that from the side and gave a soft laugh. “That part is true.”

She had always known exactly how to cheer me up.

Back when my four childhood friends took turns spoiling me, I had thought it was only natural.

Only after going abroad did I realize that the people who could still make me feel safe at one in the morning had never been those boys.

They were my family.

After the gown fitting, I went with my mother to The Ridge Club.

The entire top floor had been reserved by the Ashbourne family, and it was closed to outside guests during the day.

The manager followed behind us with a tablet, checking off each item one by one.

I handled the flowers and place cards, while my mother reviewed the menu. For once, our opinions were almost perfectly aligned.

But my head clearly wasn’t in it that day.

When the manager read out the tea service arrangement for the main table, I checked the confirmation form without thinking. The next second, my mother took the file from my hand.

“This one is wrong.” She pointed to the line at the bottom. “Lucien’s father is lactose intolerant. You pulled out the old version.”

I froze for a second and looked down. Sure enough, it was the old version from before yesterday’s revisions. I must have slept worse than I thought, because I had somehow mixed up the two lists.

The manager straightened immediately. “I’ll have it changed right away.”

“No need to panic.” My mother handed the file back to me, her voice low enough that only I could hear. “Making a mistake isn’t the problem,” my mother said quietly. “The problem is that your mind isn’t here at all.”

“The main table shouldn’t feel too crowded.” I circled a spot on the floor plan, forcing myself back into the work. “Lucien’s mother doesn’t like excessive socializing.”

The manager nodded. “How would you like to arrange your friends’ table, Miss Ashbourne?”

My pen paused.

My mother looked up at me. “You decide.”

I smiled faintly. “Just reserve normal seats for the Whitmore, Ward, Kane, and Vale families.”

“That’s all?”

“What else?” I clicked the pen shut. “I’m not opening a separate table called Childhood Memories just for them.”

The manager lowered his head, trying not to smile, and even my mother’s lips curved.

But after that faint amusement passed, she suddenly asked, “Did something happen at The Ninth House last night?”

I did not deny it.

“Not unhappy exactly.” I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out at the neat tree-lined drive outside The Ridge Club. “Just disappointed.”

My mother was quiet for two seconds before she said, “If they’re only friends, then there’s no need to punish yourself over their attitude.”

“I know.”

I had known that for a long time.

But knowing something was one thing. Watching that change land on you in real time was another.

On the way back into the city around noon, I received a call from Dashiell.

He was rarely this hesitant. After the call connected, he stayed silent for two seconds before finally speaking.

“Why did you leave so fast last night?”

“If I hadn’t left, was I supposed to wait for you to order Elodie a second Siren?”

Dashiell clicked his tongue on the other end. “You still remember that?”

“Because it used to be my drink.”

My tone was calm. That seemed to quiet him instead.

After a while, he said in a lower voice, “Sera, that’s not what we meantElodie really has been vulnerable lately, and you don’t exactly soften your words. I was afraid the two of you would clash.”

“Dashiell, aren’t you forgetting one basic condition?”

“What?”

“I’d have to care first to clash with her.”

I watched the trees flash past outside the window, my voice light and distant. “But why would I care?”

Silence returned on the other end.

I did not wait for him to come up with an answer. I hung up.

The moment the call ended, my reflection surfaced in the car window.

I stared at my own face for a few seconds, then turned slightly and pressed the heel of my palm hard against the corner of my eye.

The driver kept his gaze straight ahead, acting as if he had heard nothing at all.

That afternoon, I went to the historic district to pick up a rare first edition I had ordered months ago.

It was the meeting gift I had prepared for Lucien’s father, a beautifully preserved copy of one of his favorite books, rebound in dark green leather with his initials stamped in gold. The dealer had spent three full months tracking it down.

Maren Cole went with me. On the way there, she was still going through the event schedule.

“Ms. Ashbourne, your fiancé’s family has confirmed the arrangements. We can scale back the interpreter team by half. Mr. Beaumont’s English has gotten much more fluent.”

I was replying to a message and only gave a casual hum.

Maren lowered her voice, her curiosity poorly hidden. “Did Mr. Beaumont secretly put himself through some kind of English boot camp?”

“In the last video meeting, when he said, ‘Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Ashbourne. I miss Sera very much,’ it sounded so natural that I almost suspected he’d been practicing in private.”

The corner of my mouth lifted before I could stop it. This time, the smile came easily. “Something like that.”

As soon as we got out of the car, the wind chime at the shop entrance rang.

I looked up and saw Cassian Ward.

He had probably just come from the firm, dressed in a sharp suit. Elodie was beside him.

She held a plain paper bag in her hand, as if she had just come out of the bookstore next door. When she saw me, she was visibly startled.

Cassian clearly had not expected to run into me here either. His gaze paused for a moment.

“Why? Do you own this street now?”

His question almost made me smile.

“Why?” I asked. “Did you buy this street?”

His gaze fell on the gift box behind me, then moved to the reception checklist in Maren’s hand. His brows drew together.

“Are you planning an event?”

“What does that have to do with you?”

Elodie hurried to speak in a small voice. “Cassian, Miss Ashbourne is probably just working…”

“Exactly.” I looked at her. “I wouldn’t have come all this way just to steal your seat.”

Her face turned pale, as if I had frightened her again.

Cassian’s expression darkened. “Seraphina Ashbourne.”

I was truly tired of hearing him use that tone.

In the past, when he called my full name, I could hear protectiveness in it, indulgence, and sometimes even a trace of amused helplessness.

Now every time he said it, he sounded like a judge preparing to deliver a sentence.

“Cassian Ward.”

I lifted my eyes to meet his. “If you’re really that free, maybe go back to your firm and take on a few more cases. Don’t start playing judge every time you see me.”

His jaw tightened. His gaze shifted from the gift box in my hand to my fingers.

I was wearing a delicate diamond ring that day, an anniversary gift Lucien had given me the year before.

Cassian stared at it for two seconds, then gave a cold laugh. “What are you trying to do now?”

“What do you mean, what am I trying to do?”

“Planning an event, carrying gifts, wearing a ring.” His voice wasn’t loud, but each word came out heavy and deliberate. “Sera, if you’re trying to prove that you’re doing well, you don’t need to do it this way.”

It took me a full two seconds to understand what he was implying.

I was so angry I almost laughed.

“Cassian, are you out of your mind?”

His eyes held that familiar, stubborn irritation, the kind that made him look certain before he had even bothered to understand.

“I’m just reminding you that Elodie isn’t like you. She can’t handle this kind of game.”

I stood there and looked at him for several seconds.

He really believed all of this, the event, the gift, even the ring on my hand, was some kind of performance meant to compete with Elodie.

It was so absurd I almost couldn’t even feel offended.

“Don’t worry,” I said coolly. “When I get married, you won’t be getting an invitation.”

After saying that, I turned and left.

Maren followed with the gift box in her arms. She held back for a long time before asking carefully, “Ms. Ashbourne… did he misunderstand something?”

“It wasn’t a misunderstanding.”

I opened the car door and sat inside. I reached for the seat belt, but it took me three tries to buckle it.

“They had decided who I was from the start.”

Maren quietly set the gift box down for me and said nothing more.

By the time I got home, the sky was almost dark.

I showered, changed into loose pajamas, and had just dried my hair halfway when a video call popped up.

It was Lucien.

I had given him another name in English, one that carried my surname: Lucien Ashbourne. His formal French name was Lucien Beaumont, but this one felt private, as if it belonged only to the two of us.

On his side, it was still daytime. Behind him was a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, and the light fell across his blond hair, the bridge of his nose, and the clean lines of his brow and cheekbones.

His features looked as if they had been carved with almost impossible precision.

He wore a gray shirt that day, the collar slightly open. When I answered, he looked at me and said in English, “Good evening, Sera.”

The final syllable still sounded a little careful, but it sounded beautiful.

The irritation that had been sitting in my chest all day softened almost instantly.

“Good evening, babe.”

“Are you tired?”

“Not too bad.” I leaned back into the sofa. “Is your meeting over?”

“It just ended,” he said. “I had someone review the menu you sent. My mother said she liked it very much.”

I nodded. “Then I’ll keep the flowers understated.”

Lucien looked at me for a moment and suddenly said, “You are unhappy today.”

I went quiet for two seconds.

He was always like this. Even through a screen, he could tell with one look whether I was pretending to be fine.

“Did someone upset you?” he asked again.

I lowered my head and played with the edge of a throw pillow. “A few friends I grew up with suddenly all seem to think I’m the kind of person who would bully someone weaker.”

Lucien did not answer right away.

After a moment, he asked in slow English, “Then did they ever really know you?”

I stilled.

He continued, choosing his words carefully. “If they really knew you, that wouldn’t be the first thing they thought of you.”

His English was still a little stiff, and his grammar did not have the effortless ease of a native speaker, but I understood exactly what he meant.

The sting behind my nose came so suddenly that I had to lower my eyes.

Lucien watched me, his voice turning quieter. “Sera, do you want me to come earlier?”

“Didn’t we agree on next month?”

“I can change my schedule.”

I looked at the man on the screen, so cool and distant to everyone else, yet always impossibly gentle with me. Despite myself, I smiled.

“Mr. Beaumont, if you keep acting like this, I’m going to think you can’t live without me.”

He paused, then answered with complete seriousness.

“I am not trying to make you think that.”

“It is simply true.”

This time, my laugh came out warm and unguarded, and the tightness in my chest finally eased.

Before the call ended, Lucien suddenly said, “One more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“I prepared a gift for you.” He looked at me, and there was a rare softness in his eyes, almost a quiet kind of pride. “I’ll give it to you when we meet.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So secretive.”

“And,” he added in a lower voice, “good night, my fiancée.”

After the video ended, I stared at the dark screen for a while.

Then I opened my calendar and counted three days backward from the date he was originally supposed to arrive in New York.

For some reason, I had a feeling he really would come early.