She Was Never Just the Wife novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4 Tension at Breakfast

Celia felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Keeping a straight face, she slipped it out and glanced down.

A WhatsApp message from Haley popped up. The divorce papers were ready, and the file was still downloading.

After firing off a quick reply, she slipped her phone away and looked up, only to find Beckham watching her.

He’d clearly noticed and was waiting for an explanation.

Celia gave him nothing. Instead, she turned to the maid by the kitchen door. “Macy, could you send some breakfast up to my room? Toast, eggs, and milk. Thanks.” Her voice was calm, polite, and distant.

Macy froze for a second, then instinctively looked at Beckham. In this house, Celia had never asked for anything unless Beckham spoke first.

Beckham’s expression darkened. “Breakfast is served in the dining room.”

“I’m tired. I’d rather eat in my room,” Celia said evenly, not even glancing at him. “You all go ahead.”

She picked up the cold coffee and headed for the stairs.

“Celia.” Beckham’s voice came from behind her, laced with open displeasure. “There are rules in this house.”

She stopped, then slowly turned around. Her eyes moved over the three people in the dining room.

Beckham had gone back to the head of the table, his brows drawn tight.

Laylah sat to his right, head lowered, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. Ricardo sat in his high chair with a spoon in hand, watching the adults with curiosity.

They looked exactly like a family of three. In that moment, Celia seemed like the only one who didn’t belong.

“Rules?” Celia repeated lightly, a faint, unreadable smile touching her lips. “I’ve spent three years learning the Lucero family’s rules. You made sure I learned them well. I remember every single one.”

Her eyes settled on Beckham. The swelling around them was still there, but her gaze had gone frighteningly clear. “Like keeping quiet at the table.

“Like waiting until the elders start before anyone else eats.”

“And like…” Her voice dropped, and the irony in it was impossible to miss. “When the husband doesn’t come home, the wife is supposed to sit up alone and wait for him.”

Beckham’s face tightened at her last sentence.

The whole dining room went still. Even Ricardo seemed to sense the shift in the air and carefully set his spoon down.

Laylah looked up, her eyes reddening again. Her voice wavered as she said, “Ms. Ross, please don’t blame Beckham. This is all on me. I’ll find somewhere else to stay and move out as soon as I can. I mean it.”

“Laylah,” Beckham cut in, his voice turning sharp with irritation. “You’re not moving.”

Then he turned back to Celia, his gaze icy. “Breakfast is eaten in the dining room. If you’re Mrs. Lucero, then act like it.”

“Mrs. Lucero?” Celia let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Beckham, when have you ever treated me like your wife?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She turned and headed upstairs, moving so quickly it was obvious she only wanted to get away.

Behind her, Laylah’s muffled sobs started again, followed by Beckham’s low voice trying to soothe her. “Don’t cry. This isn’t on you.”

Celia quickened her pace and went upstairs without looking back, heading straight for the bedroom.

She shut the door and leaned back against it, breathing hard as though she’d only just come up for air. Her chest was so tight she could barely draw a full breath.

Her eyes began to sting again, but she blinked the tears back with force. She wasn’t going to cry, not now.

At the vanity, she opened her laptop and brought up the file Haley had sent over. The divorce agreement ran to thirty-seven pages, clear, thorough, and tightly drafted.

No wonder Haley was the top divorce lawyer in Silvergate. She had thought of everything.

But Celia wanted the simplest arrangement possible. She wanted nothing from Beckham, only her freedom.

Her phone buzzed again. Seeing it was from downstairs, she let it ring out. When it came through again, she finally answered without a word.

“Mrs. Lucero,” Cory said carefully. “Breakfast is ready. Would you like us to bring it upstairs, or…”

“Please send it up,” Celia said, her voice slightly hoarse. “Thank you, Cory.”

“Of course.” He hesitated, then added, “Mrs. Lucero, please don’t take it too hard. Mr. Lucero just…”

“I’m fine,” Celia cut in. “Thank you, Cory.”

After hanging up, she went to the window and looked down at the garden. The gardener was pruning the last wilted roses. With each snip, another spent bloom dropped to the ground.

It felt a little too much like the past three years of her life. She had given everything, only to be drained dry and pushed aside when someone new came along.

*****

The dining room was still heavy with tension.

Laylah had stopped crying, but her eyes were still red. She wiped Ricardo’s mouth and asked softly, “All done, sweetheart?”

Ricardo nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“Then Mommy will take you outside for a bit, okay?”

“Okay.”

Beckham took a slow breath and forced down the anger rising in him. “I already have plans tonight.”

“What could possibly be more important than coming to see your mother?” Emily snapped. “If I still mean anything to you, you’ll bring them here tonight.”

Before Beckham could say another word, the line went dead.

He stared at the dark screen in his hand, jaw tight, with anger surging through his chest. Then he shoved his chair back and got to his feet so abruptly it screeched across the floor.

Upstairs, Celia had finished breakfast and gone back to the vanity, her laptop open to the divorce agreement.

A new message popped up from Haley. [Read through it yet? Anything you want changed?]

Celia replied: [No. It looks good.]

Haley: [Then when are you giving it to him?]

Celia looked at the screen for a few seconds before replying: [Tomorrow.]

Then she typed another message: [Hails, I need you to draft a backup agreement too.]

Haley: [What kind of backup agreement?]

Celia: [Start with a fallback plan for separation. I want something in place in case he refuses to sign or keeps dragging this out. And I want it to preserve any divorce filing and any related claims I may need later.]

Then Haley finally replied with a single line. [Cece, you’ve changed.]

Celia stared at the message. Her hands went still over the keyboard, then a faint tremor crept into her fingertips.

Haley was right. The Celia who used to stay quiet, swallow the hurt, and keep waiting for Beckham was gone. Last night’s livestream had already snapped something in her, and the quiet humiliation at breakfast was the last straw.

That old version of her was over. She could still be hurt, still bleed, but she would never stand there and take it again. This time, she would fight back.

Celia: [People change. Especially after they realize how blind they’ve been.]

Haley: [Got it. I’ll draft it now. Whatever happens, I’m here.]

Celia thanked Haley, then closed the chat and opened another encrypted folder.

Inside were years of research findings, published papers, and awards, along with the true identity she had kept hidden for three years. Beckham had never known that she was the chief scientist behind Project Serene, known only as Dr. G.

Her phone rang again. This time, it was the lab’s emergency line.