While My Husband Cheated I Married His Powerful Brother novel Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Chapter 13 Stand Beside Me

The car stopped. A valet opened her door. She stepped out onto a gravel driveway and looked up at the massive building and felt very, very small.

Dorian came around the car. He offered her his arm. She took it. His arm was solid under her hand and was warm.

"Smile," he said. "And don’t let them see you sweat."

They walked through the front door together.

The foyer was crowded. People everywhere. Men in suits. Women in expensive dresses. Servants carrying trays of champagne. Veyra had never seen so many wealthy people in one place.

Dorian did not stop. He walked through the crowd like a ship cutting through water. People moved out of his way. They nodded at him. They said Mr. Thorne and Dorian and so good to see you. He did not acknowledge any of them.

He led her into a large living room. The ceiling was two stories high. A fireplace big enough to stand in dominated one wall. Paintings hung everywhere. Old paintings. Ancestors. Dead people with stern faces and expensive clothes.

A group of people stood by the fireplace. They turned when Dorian entered.

Veyra recognized them from the tablet.

The stepmother first. Her name was Celeste. She was tall and thin and beautiful in a frozen way, like a doll that had been preserved in plastic. Her hair was blond. Her dress was white. Her smile did not reach her eyes.

"Ah," Celeste said. "The new wife."

Dorian’s arm tightened around Veyra’s hand. "Celeste."

"I heard you got married." Celeste’s eyes moved over Veyra like she was examining a stain on the carpet. "To a woman who dropped out of high school."

Veyra felt her face heat. She had dropped out. It was true. Her mother had gotten sick, and she had needed to work, and college had seemed like a luxury she could not afford.

"She’s my wife," Dorian said. "That’s all that matters."

The uncle spoke next. His name was Marcus. He was short and round and red-faced, like he had been drinking since breakfast.

"Your wife?" Marcus laughed. "Dorian, you can’t be serious. This woman is beneath you. Everyone knows it. Look at her." He pointed at Veyra. "She can barely stand in the same room as us."

Veyra wanted to disappear. She wanted to run. She wanted to go back to the villa and hide in her room and never come out.

But she did not move.

Dorian did not move either. He stood beside her, his arm still firm under her hand, his face completely calm.

"Marcus," he said. "You’re drunk."

"I’m honest." Marcus stepped closer. He smelled like whiskey and old cigars. "This woman is nobody. She has no money. No education. No family. She’s a nobody. And you—"

"Enough."

The voice came from the doorway. A woman’s voice. Old but strong.

Everyone turned.

An elderly woman stood in the doorway. She was small and frail, with white hair and deep wrinkles and eyes that were sharp and bright and full of fire. She leaned on a cane, but she held herself like a queen.

Dorian’s grandmother.

She walked into the room. Slowly and carefully. But she walked. No one helped her and no one offered.

She stopped in front of Veyra. She looked up at her. Her eyes moved over Veyra’s face, her dress, her hands.

"So," the old woman said. "You’re the one who stole my grandson’s heart."

Veyra did not know what to say. She opened her mouth and nothing came out.

The old woman smiled. It was a small smile, wrinkled but it was a real smile.

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