Page 75 of Angels Are Falling

My grim expression sobered her excitement.

The humor bled out of her words. “I don’t get it. Why have you been going by Amelie Noble if it isn’t your name? What’s so bad about being Mrs. Cavendish?”

It was bad because I owed an explanation to those who knew Stefan Noble to be my husband. At least Jo had never met Stefan and had mistaken Kai for the nameless husband I had occasionally referred to. What was I supposed to do about those who knew? What must they think of me?

“I just never got around to changing my last name,” I said carefully.

“There’s more at play here if your husband felt the need to pay people to call you by your married name.” She scrutinized me in a way that made me itch beneath my skin. “Did you think we’d ask for money if we found out you married the richest man in town?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I wished you trusted us enough to tell us the truth. We’re not money-hungry, gold diggers, you know?”

But I was. I stood there, shame curdling my stomach. “I-I didn’t want you guys to look at me differently for marrying him.”

“Look at you differently? If anything, I respect you more for working, even though you don’t need the money. Personally, I would have married this man solely based on his body.” Jo held up a magazine—Darster Living. “Your husband’s so hot.”

I stared, dumbstruck, at the glossy, self-congratulatory local magazine that covered Kai’s life with breathless reverence and zero journalistic scrutiny. I had seen it in waiting rooms and thought nothing of it.

I thought something of it now.

The headline read: The Prince of Darster and His Wife: Inside Kai Cavendish’s Private Life.

“Your man is featured in this thing every month. How did you even think you’d hide being married to him? They literally call him the Prince of Darster.” Jo tried but couldn’t tamp down the excitement in her voice. “Your wedding pictures are so beautiful!” she babbled.

I snatched the magazine out of her hands and opened the article. Beneath a photo, the caption read: Kai and Amelie Cavendish on their wedding day.

“W-when did⁠—”

“It was published yesterday. We were all confused, so count your blessings that his assistants stopped by today to set us straight.”

Suddenly, I felt very tired. I didn’t have the energy to explain my complicated life to Jo. I walked away with the magazine in hand, letting her believe that I didn’t tell anyone about Kai because being married to the richest man in town made you a target.

I marched to the hospital parking lot and read the entire article on a shaded bench. My name appeared four times. Kai’s name was smeared across the article twenty-eight times. No mention of Stefan Noble. Four pages of copy that erased my other marriage entirely. How would Stefan feel about his wife being publicly claimed by another man in print? I imagined it would only add to our growing rift.

I sat there for a moment with my phone in my lap and the specific, airless feeling of someone who had just watched a door close from the inside. Would Stefan have come across this article during his business trip?

Suddenly, I was glad he was away. I didn’t know how he’d handle the news. To be honest, I was relieved there was no mention of him in the article. I couldn’t bear the humiliation of being publicly accused of bigamy.

Kai had leaked the news. I was sure of it. He had gone to the press, provided the photographs, approved the copy, and then his assistants handed out money to ease the transition from Amelie Noble to Amelie Cavendish. Had he deliberately timed the publication for after Stefan left the country?

The only way to find out was by asking the source.

Amelie: What the hell were you thinking?

Kai: Whatever do you mean?

Amelie: Don’t play dumb.

Kai: Want to have lunch today?

I wanted to wring his neck.

Amelie: Why would you do this without talking to me?

Kai: How about noon? We can eat outside. It’s a nice day.

Amelie: I don’t want to have lunch with you.