What She Overheard in Her Own Marriage novel Chapter 330

That specific afternoon used to loop in her mind endlessly.

When she first heard this duet all those years ago, it felt like destiny. The music had woven itself into her soul, every note permanently attached to Finnian's face.

Now, hearing it again, a sharp, suffocating ache flared in her chest. Falling in love with the wrong man required a devastating amount of courage—and surviving it required even more.

It was nearly ten-thirty when the sleek Maybach pulled up to the grand entrance of the hotel. Simon hopped out, circled the vehicle, and opened Kaia's door.

"Let me carry her," he offered softly.

Carrying a sleeping thirty-pound child was exhausting, and Kaia was grateful for the help. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

She carefully transferred Brynlee into his arms. Simon looked completely natural holding a child. He adjusted Brynlee so her cheek rested securely against his shoulder, ensuring she stayed fast asleep.

Kaia then helped a groggy Celine out of the front seat. Celine rubbed her eyes. "Are we here already? I was having a great nap."

The group walked through the extravagant hotel lobby, heading toward the elevators.

At that exact moment, in a dimly lit lounge just off the lobby, Finnian and Dexter were seated at a table, glasses of scotch in hand.

Finnian absentmindedly glanced toward the lobby, and his heart violently seized in his chest.

Through the glass partition, he saw Kaia supporting Celine, while Simon carried a sleeping Brynlee against his chest. The four of them walked past the lounge, looking like a perfect, happy family returning from a late dinner.

"Boss... is that your wife?" Dexter gasped, unable to stop himself.

Finnian's grip on his glass tightened incrementally until his knuckles turned bone-white. The glass groaned under the pressure.

Dexter was about to say something else, but seeing the murderous, unblinking stare on his boss's face, he instantly snapped his mouth shut.

Kaia's group reached the elevators and disappeared upstairs.

Inside the lounge, the grand piano continued to play, and a jazz singer crooned a melancholic tune. Finnian sat frozen in his chair, resembling a statue carved out of pure rage.

A heavy minute passed before Dexter dared to whisper, "They just went up. Do you want to go say hello?"

"Get me another one," Finnian ordered, his voice devoid of all emotion.

Dexter practically sprinted to the bar and returned with a double shot of whiskey.

Finnian threw it back in one violent swallow. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek.

"Let's go."

He stood up and stalked out of the lounge. Dexter scrambled to keep up.

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