While My Husband Cheated I Married His Powerful Brother novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22: Chapter 22 Same Room

The car was quiet.

Kaelen waited. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, then away. He knew better than to push. He had worked for Dorian long enough to understand that some questions did not get answers.

Dorian watched the city pass by. The lights blurred together. Red and gold and white.

"That’s not a question I’m going to answer," he said finally. "Not tonight."

Kaelen nodded. "Understood, sir."

"Some things need to stay secret. For now." Dorian’s voice was low. "The timing isn’t right."

He did not say anything else. Kaelen did not ask again.

The car drove on through the night.

*

Midnight came slow.

Veyra had fallen asleep on the bed in the second-floor bedroom. She had not meant to. She had only lain down to rest her eyes for a moment. But the day had been long. The fire had been warm. And her body had given up.

She dreamed of her mother.

In the dream, her mother was young. Healthy. Her hair was dark and thick. Her hands were soft. She was baking something in a kitchen that smelled like cinnamon and sugar.

You’re going to be okay, her mother said. You’re stronger than you think.

Veyra wanted to answer. But the dream was fading. Something was pulling her back.

A knock on the door.

She sat up. Her heart was pounding. The fire had died down to embers. The room was dark.

Another knock.

"Veyra."

Dorian’s voice was low.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold floor. She walked to the door and pressed her ear against the wood.

"What?"

"The door is locked."

She blinked. Locked? She had not locked it. Had she?

She turned the lock. The bolt slid back with a click. She opened the door.

Dorian stood in the hallway. His tie was loose and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. He looked tired. His gray eyes moved past her, into the room.

"This is my bedroom," he said.

Veyra’s stomach dropped.

"What?"

"My bedroom." He stepped past her into the room. "Solene must have put you in here by mistake. The other guest rooms are being cleaned."

Veyra turned to look at him. He was standing by the fireplace now, his back to her, his hands in his pockets.

"I didn’t know," she said. "No one told me."

"I know." He turned to face her. "It’s fine. You can stay."

She looked around the room. The bed she had been sleeping in. The dresser against the wall. The suitcase by the door. Her suitcase. His room.

"We’re married," she said slowly. "In the eyes of everyone else, we’re supposed to share a room."

"Yes."

"So if I leave—"

"People will talk." He finished her sentence. "Servants talk. Family talks. News gets back to my grandmother."

She understood. The old woman was fragile. The old woman had almost died today. If she found out that her grandson’s new wife was sleeping in a separate room, it would cause questions. Stress. Maybe another episode.

"Fine," Veyra said. "I’ll stay."

She walked back to the bed and sat on the edge. The mattress dipped under her weight.

Dorian did not move.

"You can have the bed," he said. "I’ll take the sofa."

The sofa was on the other side of the room. It was small. Too small for a man his size. But she did not argue. She was too tired to argue.

"Okay," she said.

He walked to the closet. Pulled open the door. Reached up to a high shelf. His shirt pulled tight across his shoulders. She looked away.

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