Chapter 17
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The Invitation
Christopher’s POV
It’s been weeks since Noelle vanished.
Every time I walk into the room we used to share, it feels emptier.
She’d wiped out every trace of herself–every perfume bottle, every photo, every stupid thing I ever gave her. Gone. Like she never existed here.
The closet was hollow. The drawers? Empty. Even the floor felt colder.
But it was the bed that got to me the most. The side she always curled into. The pillow she hugged in her sleep. All of it, gone.
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She had cleared out not just her things–but me too.
And to make it worse, I’d signed divorce papers without even realizing it. Sloppy. Stupid. I don’t even know when she made me do it.
I hired a PI to find her. I paid a ridiculous amount. No results. Noelle had vanished off
the face of the earth.
“Again?”
Jocelyn’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
I turned to see her standing at the door, arms crossed, her eyes darting around Noelle’s old
room.
“What are you always doing here,
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Christopher?” she asked.
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Thinking.”
Jocelyn stepped inside slowly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were in love with her.”
I didn’t respond.
Jocelyn’s heels clicked softly against the floor as she walked closer. “Is it that damn third box again?”
I looked at her. “You know what was in it.”
Her face was unreadable.
tell jan
“The letter from the hospital,” I continued, “stated you didn’t need the heart transplant that James died waiting for. You knew you
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didn’t need it.”
“And you still gave it to me,” she replied quietly. “So don’t pretend you didn’t play your part.”
“I was saving your life.”
Jocelyn scoffed. “That’s what we tell ourselves to sleep at night.”
“I didn’t know James would die.”
She raised a brow. “Didn’t you?”
I stepped back. Her words stung.
“You’re regretting it now?” she asked sharply.
“I’m haunted by it,” I said honestly.
Jocelyn rolled her eyes. “We planned to get
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rid of her, remember? The stalker?”
“I know.” I sank into the edge of the bed.
“She humiliated me, Christopher,” Jocelyn snapped. “She made me look like a fraud in front of the entire fashion world. I’ve lost deals. I’ve lost credibility.”
I rubbed my temples. “That was before I knew she was pregnant.”
Jocelyn paused. “And now?”
I looked at her. “Now I’m the reason she lost the baby.”
She blinked at me. Then, with a soft voice, she said, “I’m pregnant too.”
My stomach twisted. “I… I don’t know what to do, Jocelyn.”
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“Of course you don’t,” she muttered. “You’ve been too busy moping over Noelle.”
“I’m sorry, I said.
“For what exactly?” she asked. “For getting me pregnant or for missing your ex–wife?”
I stared at her. “I’m just worried. Noelle disappeared, Jocelyn. No calls. No messages. And after everything… I just-”
“She’ll be fine,” Jocelyn said, cutting me off. “Girls like Noelle always land on their feet.”
“Do they?”
“She embarrassed us, Christopher. She sent those boxes to humiliate us, not for closure. And I’m the one who had to deal with the fallout while you sulked around.”
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Just then, there was a soft knock at the door.
A maid entered and handed me an envelope. “This came for you, sir.”
I opened it, confused.
It was a sleek black and gold invitation, the kind you only get for top–tier events.
I read it aloud: “You are cordially invited to the Elite Winter Fashion Gala, hosted in Washington D.C. Guest list is exclusive. Dress accordingly.”
There was no return address, but the seal on the card screamed prestige.
Jocelyn peered over my shoulder. “Is this real?”
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“Looks like it.” I handed it to her.
She studied it closely, her eyes lighting up. “Maybe not every brand thinks I’m a fraud after all.”
I tried not to frown. “Still… why would they invite us? Especially after the scandal?”
“I don’t know, but this could be my chance to clean my name.”
“Or it could be a setup.”
Jocelyn glared at me. “You’re paranoid.”
“And you’re too eager,” I snapped.
She exhaled and softened her tone. “Christopher… please. We need this. One event. One shot to remind people who we are.”
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I stared at the invitation again.
Whoever sent it knew exactly how to stir curiosity. No branding. No obvious host. Just an address, a date, and the expectation that we’d show up.
Something about it didn’t sit right with me.
But maybe that was just guilt.
“Fine,” I said at last. “We’ll go.”
Jocelyn grinned.
I folded the invitation and slid it back into its envelope. “Let’s just hope this party doesn’t end like the last one.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Jocelyn said with a half–laugh. “We can’t afford another disaster.”
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But something deep inside me whispered that disaster was exactly what waited for us.
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