Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 95

Chapter 95

SERAPHINE

The ceiling tiles of St. Catherine’s Private Wing had exactly forty-three hairline cracks. I counted them twelve times between the moment I woke up and the moment I finally accepted that Dominic was not coming.

Fifteen hours. That’s how long I lay in that hospital bed, waiting for him. Fifteen hours of nurses checking my vitals, of doctors telling me how lucky I was, of reporters camped outside the entrance hoping to catch a glimpse of the wife of the richest man in the city.

I remembered everything. The press conference. The questions. The flash of movement in my peripheral vision. The crack of the gunshot that arrived a full second after the bullet had already torn through me.

And I remembered him.

The hands that grabbed me. The body that covered mine. The voice that shouted for help.

Dominic

He pulled me down. He saved my life. I knew it the way I knew my own heartbeat. No one else would have moved that fast. No one else would have cared enough.

But if he cared, why wasn’t he here?

The nurse came in at six AM. She had a clipboard and a practiced smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Good morning, Mrs. Ford. How are you feeling today?”

“Like someone shot me.”

She laughed like I’d made a joke. I hadn’t.

“Your vitals look excellent. The bullet passed clean through. No major damage. You’re cleared for discharge whenever you’re ready.”

“And my husband?”

Her smile flickered. “I’m sorry?”

“Has my husband called? Left a message? Sent someone?”

She looked at her clipboard like it might save her. “I don’t have any record of…”

“Forget it.”

I turned my face to the window. The sky was gray. The city looked like it always looked. Indifferent.

I signed myself out at nine AM. No car. No driver. No one to pick me up because I hadn’t told anyone I was being discharged.

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I called an Uber like a peasant.

The ride home was twenty minutes of silence. I watched the city scroll past the window and tried not to think about the fact that my husband had not called. Had not texted. Had not sent so much as a single flower to my room.

When I walked through the front door of our house, the silence hit me like a wall.

No Dominic. No note. No sign that anyone had been here at all. 1

I stood in the living room and I let myself feel it. The emptiness. The rejection. The cold, hard truth that the man I married was avoiding me.

And then I got angry.

Julian showed up an hour later.

I still hadn’t eaten. Still hadn’t showered. I looked like hell and I didn’t care.

“What do you want?” I asked the moment I opened the door.

He looked rough too. Dark circles. Tension in his jaw. Whatever was eating him, it was big.

“We need to talk.”

“So talk.”

“Inside.”

I stepped aside. He walked past me into the living room and I closed the door behind him.

“Pour me a drink,” he said, dropping onto the couch.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m exhausted. Pour me a drink.”

I glared at him. He didn’t flinch. In the end, I walked to the cabinet, grabbed a glass and a bottle of whiskey, and dropped both on the table in front of him with more force than necessary.

He poured. He drank. He poured again.

“It’s about your husband,” he said.

My heart stopped. “What about him?”

I explained everything to her.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because my sister recognized the man. She says it was Dominic.”

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I laughed. It came out sharp and bitter. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Dominic would never…”

“He was seen, Sera. In my house. In my guest room. With your best friend.”

“Celeste is not my best friend.”

“Whatever she is to you, she was locked in a room with a man who looked exactly like your husband.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t accept it. Not Dominic. Not the man who cooked for me, who cleaned for me, who worshipped the ground I walked on for years.

“If a man like Dominic wanted to have an affair, he wouldn’t go to a married woman’s house and sneak into a guest room. It doesn’t sound like something he would do.”

“People change.”

“He hasn’t changed.” I said it firmly, like saying it hard enough would make it true. “All the years of our marriage, the only complaint I ever had about Dominic was that he didn’t have money. He wasn’t lacking in any other way.”

“Money changes people.”

“You don’t know him like I do.”

“Maybe not. But I know what my sister saw.”

I stood up. My legs were shaking. My heart was pounding. But I held myself together because falling apart in front of Julian was not an option.

“Your sister and your mother hate Celeste. You said it yourself. There’s bad blood between them. What if they made it up? What if they picked my husband’s face and pretended he was the one who was there just to turn you against Celeste?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

“You never even saw him,” I pressed. “You don’t have cameras in your home. You were the one who decided not to have cameras because of our affair. Remember?”

He sat back. The anger in his face flickered into something else. Doubt.

“That actually makes me feel a whole lot better,” he admitted.

“Good.”

Julian got to his feet. “I know her. She’s not the type to cheat and be so nonchalant about it. This is all an act. But I still feel uneasy.”

He walked to the door. Paused.

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“Thank you for your time. And if you get really lonely… don’t forget to give me a call.”

I didn’t respond.

When the door clicked shut behind him, I stood there for a long moment, staring at the wood grain, trying

to breathe.

Dominic. Cheating. With Celeste.

No. I refused to believe it.

I didn’t check social media until after Julian left. I should have checked earlier. I should have known.

The interview was everywhere.

Dominic, standing with the Veil Holdings logo behind him. A reporter asking him about me. About the shooting. About why he hadn’t visited his wife in the hospital.

And his response.

“So if a random person appears and claims to be my wife, that automatically makes me a married man?”

I watched it three times. Each time, the words hit harder.

A random person.

He called me a random person.

I felt the room spin. My stomach lurched. I made it to the bathroom just in time to throw up.

When I came back, my phone was exploding. Notifications pouring in. Comments. Messages. Tags.

Fraud.

Gold digger.

Social climber.

She staged the shooting for attention.

Of course he didn’t visit her. She’s probably not even his wife.

I stared at the screen until my vision blurred.

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