Chapter 9

Vincent's brow furrowed. He looked at Hannah,clearly displeased. "Do you have to talk like that?"

Hannah adjusted the jacket draped over her shoulders and raised an eyebrow. "Did I say something wrong?" A smirk curled her lips.ne woman after another-aren't you worried you'll wear yourself out? Would hate for fatigue to be your undoing,Mr.Jones."

The comment sat poorly with Vincent. At what point had Hannah become this sharp-tongued? His eyes lingered on the jacket draped on her shoulder-obviously a man's, and definitely not his own. A wave of suspicion crashed over him. Was she here to see off some man at the airport? Clearing his throat, he asked, "What are you doing at the airport?"

With barely a glance back, Hannah let out a huff and strode away, making it clear she was done with the conversation.

But the next second, Vincent strode forward and grabbed her wrist, "Where do you think you're going?"

"None of your business," Hannah snapped, her words clipped as she tried to twist out of his grasp.But he refused to let go.

"Still making a fuss?" Vincent asked, frustration clear in every word.

A hollow, humorless laugh escaped Hannah. Making a fuss? She hadn't made a scene or harmed anyone -just kept all her pain to herself. Yet, somehow, he viewed her as immature, making a fuss. All at once,the fight in her faded. A heavy silence settled over her.

"I didn't make a fuss," Hannah finally said, her voice level and steady.

Vincent picked up on the change, his own tone softening. "Let's head home. We need to talk this out."

A bitter laugh escaped from Hannah. "Home? That word doesn't mean anything to us. To everyone else,I was never your wife-just a secret lover, right?"

In fact, she wasn't even a lover. She was just a stand-in for Brinley. And for five years, she'd been kept in the dark.

Their eyes met, her gaze heavy with pain,disappointment, and a thousand other feelings that words couldn't touch.

Every bit of her heartbreak was written on her face,and Vincent saw it. The sight nearly closed up his throat.

She turned to leave again, but Vincent gripped her wrist even more tightly. He tugged her back, urging her toward his car.

His strength overpowered her resistance. Rage bubbled up inside her. Her arm flew out,accidentally connecting with his cheek in a sharp, stinging slap.

For a split second, the sound echoed around them.Hannah stood perfectly still, shocked by what she'd just done.

His head slapped to the side, Vincent set his jaw and pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. His eyes narrowed, shadows flickering in their depths."Can we talk now?"

Without waiting for an answer, he yanked her to the car and shoved her inside before slamming the door shut and speeding away before she could protest.

Behind them, Daphne Whitaker, Miles' younger sister,watched from the curb, her mouth falling open as the car disappeared. "Who was that woman? Did she really slap Mr. Jones?"

Bobby scoffed. "Just some lover. Not worth mentioning."

Meanwhile, silence hung thick inside the Bentley.Hannah turned her head, watching the outline of Vincent's cheek where her hand had landed. Her heart churned with regret. After all the years they'd spent together, she'd never once struck him-this was the first time.

Only then did Vincent finally release her wrist,his gaze catching on the faint red line his grip had left behind.

Delicate skin had always betrayed Hannah's bruises.Every time they'd been intimate, her body would be dotted with love marks, some lasting for days.

His throat bobbed at the memory. Slowly, he reached over, brushing his thumb over the mark as if he could erase it.

The touch jolted Hannah back to reality. She snatched her hand away. "What exactly do you want to talk to me about?"

Regaining his composure, Vincent answered,"Grandma's seventieth birthday is coming up soon.You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"Of course I remember," she replied. Three weeks-that was all the time left. Once his grandmother's birthday celebration wrapped up, she would vanish from his world entirely and announce their divorce publicly.

Turning away, Hannah fixed her attention on the scenery outside. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the pale impression left by a wedding band that was no longer there.

Again and again, Vincent glanced over at her profile.Each time, a feeling of powerlessness crept in, like she was slipping out of his orboit and there was nothing he could do.

"You've always taken charge of Grandma's birthday plans," he said, his tone softening. "Seventieth birthday is a big milestone. Do you have any ideas for the celebration?"

Hannah said nothing.

Vincent's eyes dimmed slightly, though he tried to mask it. "Maybe we could skip the big party this time.Something simple-a family dinner. I think that would mean a lot to her."

A tired breath slipped from Hannah, her words scraping the air. "You don't have to ask me, Vincent.There's probably someone out there who could do it better."

Vincent's face clouded over in an instant. His eyes locked on hers as he demanded, "And what's that supposed to mean? Are you telling me to divorce you and go marry another woman who handles the celebration?"