“How romantic. And you came to Castoria, exactly where we used to spend our summers. What a… coincidence.”
“I think you’re the one who came here just to provoke,” I shot back. “It won’t work.”
Her eyes narrowed, the mask of civility slipping for a fraction of a second.
Before she could answer, an elderly man hurried over, speaking in rapid-fire Valentian. I caught only a few words-barrels, problem, ceremony.
Christian frowned, replying fluently before turning to me.
“There’s a problem with the wine barrels for the main ceremony,” he explained. “I need to help.”
“Go,” I encouraged, squeezing his hand. “I know how much this festival means to the community.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he promised, hesitating as his eyes flicked to Francesca.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” I reassured him with a smile.
Christian nodded and followed the man, disappearing into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Francesca dropped all pretense of politeness.
“Funny how he’s always rushing off to save everyone, isn’t it?” she said, eyes still tracking him. “Always trying to please, to be the savior. Some things never change.”
“It’s called responsibility,” I replied evenly. “And consideration for others.”
“Oh, darling.” She laughed softly. “You really do believe in this little play, don’t you? The whirlwind wedding, the romantic honeymoon… how adorable.”
I kept my face neutral, even as my pulse quickened. She knew something.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answered calmly.
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve known Christian since we were children. I can tell when he’s just… fulfilling obligations.”
Her words echoed in my mind. Since children. But Christian had told me he’d only met Francesca at a wine fair four years ago. He’d described the encounter in detail-how they started seeing each other, how he fell for her…
My stomach twisted. Lucy had also mentioned not approving of Francesca “even when they were children.” I’d assumed it was just a turn of phrase. But now it was clear: Christian had lied about how long he’d known his ex.
Why would he lie about something like that? What else was he hiding about their relationship? The thought that Christian hadn’t been completely honest with me-even in the rare moments when he seemed to bare his heart -left a bitter taste. More layers of secrets in a relationship already built on lies.
“You don’t know anything about our relationship,” I shot back, trying to mask the insecurity bubbling inside me.
“I know more than you think.” Francesca stepped closer, invading my space. “I know our parents always dreamed of uniting the families. I know the Kensingtons are desperate for new life in their business- something the Montgomerys could provide. And I know Joseph has always been a sentimental romantic. But the old man won’t last much longer.”
Her eyes glittered with calculated malice.
“How many months?” she asked suddenly.
“What?”
“Your marriage contract. How many months until the friendly divorce?”
I felt my face drain of color, but forced my composure.
“Our marriage has no expiration date, Francesca.”
She threw her head back and laughed.
“Darling, don’t insult my intelligence. I’ve known the Kensingtons long enough to understand how they operate. “She smoothed a perfect strand of hair. “Let me guess… six months? A year at most?”
My silence was all the confirmation she needed.
“You know what fascinates me most?” she went on, circling me like a predator. “That you actually seem to believe something real is happening. I saw the way you looked at him. Almost made me pity you.”
“I don’t need your pity,” I replied, my tone sharper than I intended.
“Of course not.” She smiled, but her eyes remained cold. “And do you know why? Because he always comes back to me in the end. Always.”
Something in her certainty made my stomach sink, but I refused to show it.
“Things have changed.”
“Changed?” Her perfectly arched brow lifted. “I cheated on Christian. I stole from him. I humiliated him publicly. And yet, every time we cross paths, I see it in his eyes-the feeling is still there.” She leaned in, whispering as though confiding a secret. “He’ll never forget me. Because we were each other’s first. This place, these summers-that’s us. You’re just… a pause. A temporary obligation.”
Her words pierced like darts, finding insecurities I hadn’t even known I carried.
“When the old man dies and your little contract ends, you’ll go back to your mediocre life selling wedding dresses. And Christian will go back where he belongs.” She shrugged elegantly. “At my side. That’s how it always ends.”
The Castorian sun was setting behind the hills, painting the vineyards in golden and scarlet tones. I sat on the old stone wall that circled one of the villa’s terraces, idly turning the wine glass in my hand. Below, the valley stretched out like a perfect mosaic of vines, olive trees, and cypresses-a beauty that seemed to mock the chaos boiling inside me after my encounter with Francesca.
“I’ve known Christian since we were kids.”
Her words kept echoing in my mind. Another lie, another layer of secrets. I was tired of finding out that nothing was ever what it seemed when it came to Christian Kensington.
I heard footsteps approaching over the terrace stones and recognized his stride without needing to look. Christian stopped beside me, a sigh slipping from his lips before he sat on the wall, keeping a cautious distance between us.
“Sorry I left you alone with her,” he began, his voice low. “It wasn’t by choice.”
I took a sip of wine, letting the silence stretch between us. I wasn’t about to make things easier for him. Not this time.
“So,” I finally said, still not looking at him, “you and Francesca have known each other since childhood. Not for four years from some wine fair.”
It wasn’t a question. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his shoulders slump slightly.
“Zoey, I…”
“I’m tired of lies, Christian,” I cut him off, finally turning to face him. “Every day I discover something new about you that contradicts what you told me before. I’m starting to wonder if anything you’ve said since we met is true.”
He ran a hand through his hair-that gesture I already knew meant discomfort.
“Yes, we’ve known each other since we were kids,” he admitted at last. “Our families’ estates are next to each other. We grew up side by side.”
My grip on the glass tightened.
“Then tell me,” I challenged, locking my eyes on his, “what’s the big secret behind something so simple? Why pretend she was a stranger to you until recently?”
Christian turned his gaze toward the horizon, his face drowned in golden shadows.
“Because the truth… is ugly. And it hurts,” he said quietly. “It’s a story I tried to forget for so long that sometimes I almost manage to believe it never happened.”
“What story?” I asked, my throat tight.
He drew in a deep breath, as if gathering strength.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.