Chapter 8
With one last look back at the hospital, I whispered, “This is the last time you‘ 11 see me like this, Gale. Next time, I’ll be the one walking away.”
Then I left, returning to my studio to finish my work for my upcoming studies in Italy. My applications were complete, but I still needed a visa.
That was when I remembered my passport was still with Gale‘ s mother.
I recalled that second year of marriage, when I had desperately wanted to leave.
My professor had offered me a spot in a student exchange program in London, and I was ready to escape, believing I could never make Gale love me.
I had done everything to win him over, followed his every whim, adapted myself to his tastes, and endured his coldness.
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But to him, I was just another servant, albeit one he indulged with monthly gifts
whenever I had a tantrum over his
treatment.
At first, those gifts had softened me, making me think they were tokens of affection, that perhaps he cared for me in
his own way.
But the illusion shattered every time he stumbled into my room, drunk and cruel, whispering Lilian’s name in the darkness. My heart had broken too many times to
count.
When I decided to join the student exchange, I kept it quiet. I applied for a passport and a visa on my own, but Gale’s mother found out.
“Why a visa to London?” she’d asked. “Gale doesn’t have any work there.”
I wanted to tell her the truth, that I was ready to end the marriage, that no matter how hard I tried, Gale would only ever see
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me as a shadow of Lilian.
But before I could respond, Gale suddenly came and intervened with his usual icy charm.
“Actually, we’re going to London for our honeymoon,” he announced smoothly.
“We never had the chance to go after the wedding.
His mother believed him without question, but Gale knew my intentions.
After that, he tightened his grip on me even further, treating me with a brutal possessiveness whenever he drank, and in London, he barely allowed me to leave the bed.
By the time we returned to the U.S., I was drained.
Upon our return, he handed my passport to his mother, saying that I had entrusted it to her as a symbol of faith and trust in our marriage.
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In reality, it was just another way of keeping me trapped.
As I sat there, putting the final touches on my application documents, I knew I would need to come up with a convincing reason to retrieve my passport from Gale‘ s
mother.
But before I could think of a plan, my phone buzzed, startling me. It was Gale.
Somehow, he had unblocked himself, forcing his way back into my life through the device in my hand.
With a sigh, I picked up, saying nothing, just listening.
“Where are you?” Gale‘ s voice was impatient, bordering on annoyed. “I told you I’d be back after my meeting.”
“The meeting at the hospital with Lilian?” I replied, my tone laced with
sarcasm.
“Oh, here we go again. When will your
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tantrum end, Rachel? It’s been days.” He sighed, as if he were the one suffering. “Anyway, stop playing games. Come
home. We have to get ready for the Douglas Group‘ s 50th anniversary gala tonight at
the manor.
“I’m not coming,” I answered flatly, already exhausted by the conversation.
“Yes, you are. I’ve arranged everything. You have ten minutes to get back here. before I have to do something you won’t like.” His voice was a mixture of threat and control, something I had become all too familiar with.
But then I realized that it could be my opportunity to speak with Gale’s mother about retrieving my passport without arousing suspicion. “Fine. I’ll be home in fifteen minutes, I said reluctantly.
“Ten,” he snapped, then hung up.
Once home, I was whisked away by stylists who dressed me like a doll in a gown that
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oozed glamor yet felt painfully restrictive.
The dress was a dark, satiny material with a plunging neckline and a high slit up the side, exposing more than I would have
chosen.
The slit rose high on my left thigh, and the neckline plunged daringly low, the whole look engineered to demand attention.
When we finally arrived at the banquet, I noticed that Lilian was there too, dressed
even more provocatively.
She wore a tight, short dress with a corset- style bodice that emphasized her curves, her lips painted a deep red, catching the eye of everyone in the room.
The guests around us murmured, their voices carrying whispers of Gale and Lilian’s history.
“Is she back in town to win Mr. Douglas. back?” one woman speculated.
“They were inseparable back then.
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Honestly, she fits him better,” another added, glancing my way.
Each remark felt like a needle prick, reminding me of the invisible lines that separated me from him, that marked the place where Lilian lingered in his heart, no matter what I did.
The extended family of the Doughlas clan had always favored Lilian.
She came from a wealthy, well–connected family with a spotless lineage, unlike me, an orphan with no roots to boast of.
At events like that, their preference for her was glaringly obvious.
Gale’s aunties flocked to her, chatting and laughing as if she were already their
beloved niece. Meanwhile, I stood alone in the corner, ignored as though I were invisible.
The banquet hall was alive with chatter and laughter, the clinking of glasses
punctuating the room’s buzz.
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I kept to myself, observing from the shadows. It was easier that way. Better to blend in than face the stinging rejection of trying to belong.
But my quiet solitude did not last long.
Gale’s mother approached me, her face. warm but tinged with disappointment. Beside her, Gale stood with a sour expression, clearly dragged along against. his will.
“Rachel,” Gale’s mother said brightly, as though trying to inject some cheer into the moment. “How about cutting the cake tonight with Gale? It’s a lovely way to show the family your unity.”
My heart sank at the suggestion. Although my burn had mostly healed, the scar was still there, a visible reminder of Lilian‘ s recklessness and Gale‘ s indifference.
I could not bear to step into the spotlight, to expose myself to the judgmental stares of the Doughlas family and the inevitable.
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whispers.
With a forced smile, I shook my head.
“I’m sorry, Mother. My hand is still
sprained, and I don’t think I can manage it tonight.”
Her face fell slightly, disappointment flashing in her eyes, but she nodded understandingly. “I see,” she said softly.
“Well, I’ll have to ask someone else,
then.”
“No worries, Mom,” Gale interjected smoothly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and strode toward Lilian, who was surrounded by admirers.
I watched as he leaned in to whisper something to her, and she nodded, her smile as dazzling as ever.
Without hesitation, they walked together to the center of the room, where the large ceremonial cake awaited.
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“Ladies and gentlemen,” Gale announced, his voice commanding the attention of the crowd, “it’s an honor to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Douglas Group tonight. And to mark this special occasion, I’ll be cutting the cake with someone very dear to all of us.”
He gestured toward Lilian, and she joined him with an elegance that seemed to dazzle everyone in the room.
They stood side by side, their hands clasped together on the knife as they cut into the cake, smiling as camera flashes
went off.
Around me, the whispers began, sharp and cutting, each one like a dagger to my heart.
“Could it be they‘ re back together?” one woman murmured.
“Will there be news of a divorce soon?” another speculated, her voice just loud enough for me to hear.
The whispers grew louder, swirling around
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me like a storm.
“Maybe Lilian returned to the U.S. to marry Mr. Doughlas,” a man said with a chuckle.
Hearing that, the room seemed to shift. The people who had once tolerated me because of Gale‘ s protection felt emboldened to show their true colors at that moment.
These were the same socialites who had previously smiled politely at me, unwilling to confront the Cinderella–like story of a commoner becoming part of the Doughlas family.
But then, seeing Gale and Lilian together, they sensed that I was no longer under his shield of influence.
For the first time, they cornered me. The well–mannered celebrities with perfect smiles for the cameras revealed their uglier
sides.
“So, Cinderella has returned to the
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bottom, I see,” one woman said. mockingly, her voice dripping with disdain.
“Yeah,” another added with a smirk.
“The caste difference was bound to cause problems. You can‘ t expect someone like her to fit in.”
The comments were relentless.
Some nudged me intentionally as they passed, forcing me to step back. Others shoved me with mock apologies, their laughter cruel and cutting.
I retreated further and further until I felt my back press against something solid.
Turning around, I realized too late that I had bumped into a table holding a towering champagne tower.
It wobbled precariously before the entire thing came crashing down, glass shattering everywhere. The sharp sound silenced the room, and all eyes turned to me.
