Shattered Reflections

Chapter 1: The Mask of Desire

I sat before the mirror, my reflection a canvas of effortless beauty despite the exhaustion etched into my bones. My best friend Freda always said, 'If anyone asks what you do for a living, tell them you look beautiful.' A smirk curled my lips at the thought, but it faded as my gaze shifted to Lucien, my husband, dressing behind me with a cold detachment that could freeze fire. I struggled with my necklace, my freshly manicured nails betraying me. Rising, I approached him, my voice a soft plea. 'Can you help with my necklace? My nails are useless right now.' I flashed the crimson tips for emphasis.

He shot me a glare, as if I’d asked him to scale a mountain. 'You can literally ask a maid on our way out,' he snapped, his tone icy enough to sting. I nodded, retreating to the vanity, dropping the necklace with a clink. Screw it. I’d wear my hair down, matching my plummeting mood. If not for tonight’s big announcement, I wouldn’t even bother with this charade of a party—not with the chaos of my life unraveling.

Lucien strode over, extending a hand. 'There’s no need,' I muttered, not wanting to sour his mood further. Tonight was his night, after all. But he ignored me, picking up the necklace and stepping behind me. His breath grazed my neck as I lifted my hair, and a shiver raced down my spine. He fastened the clasp but lingered, our eyes locking in the mirror. The air crackled. He pushed my hair aside, his nose tracing the curve of my neck, sending a jolt of heat through me. I gripped the vanity, knuckles whitening, as excitement pulsed in my veins.

His hands found my breasts, squeezing with a deliberate tenderness, fingers teasing my nipples through the fabric. A moan escaped me, loud and unapologetic, as I bit my lip hard. His lips attacked my neck, kissing, sucking, while his hands roamed my body, igniting every nerve. 'Fuck...' he groaned, inhaling the scent of my hair, his grip tightening on my ass. I felt his hard cock press against me through his trousers, and I arched my back, offering more, craving more. Two months without his touch, and now this—I didn’t care if we were late. Let them wait.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, the vibration so strong it echoed through me, straight to my core. He stepped back, pulling it out, and answered with a softness that wasn’t for me. 'Hey, babe.' His eyes met mine in the mirror, and the fire in me died as quickly as it had flared. 'I’ll be on my way now.' He pocketed the phone and turned to me, his voice flat. 'Don’t bother putting your hair up. I must’ve left marks on your neck, and I don’t want drama tonight. Forget this ever happened. It was a mistake.' With that, he walked out, leaving me hollow.

I stared at my reflection, seeing nothing but a fool who thought Lucien could ever choose me over Megan, his childhood sweetheart. Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Grabbing my purse, I headed downstairs to join him, my pride the only thing keeping me upright.

At the party, Megan was already waiting outside, draped in the dress our designer had made for *me*. Lucien had given it to her instead—a silent slap. She sauntered over, kissing his cheek with a saccharine smile. 'Babe, you took too long. The guests are waiting, and Mom’s furious.' Then her gaze flicked to me, venomous. 'Wait, you wasted Lucien’s time for *this* dress and makeup? You look like a damn millipede.'

I held her stare, my silence a shield. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of a response, not with Lucien’s wrath as the consequence. She tugged his arm, leading him inside, while I followed, a shadow in their light. At the table reserved for Lucien and me, Megan slid into my seat without hesitation. 'Be a sweet girl and find a corner to sit,' she cooed, shooing me with a flick of her wrist. 'That’s where girls like you belong.'

I glanced at Lucien, hoping for a shred of defense, but he just scrolled through his phone, indifferent. Fine. I found a chair nearby, settling in, my eyes scanning the room. Whispers and pitying glances met me, but I squared my shoulders. Let them stare. I wasn’t here to play the victim. Tonight, I’d wear my beauty like armor—and if Lucien thought he could break me, he’d soon learn I wasn’t so easily shattered.