The Substitute Bride Is Reborn and Loves Her Husband No more - Chapter 115

Chapter 115: The Facades

The sun was just a tad too ideal. Golden, warm, with the kind of radiance that made everything look like something that would be featured in a holiday brochure. Grass was thick under the picnic mat Zara had insisted on laying out with a rugged fervor, and the secret lake glimmered a few feet away, its water bumpy like a screensaver.

Rose hated that everything seemed so beautiful.

It was peaceful, fine—but the sort of peaceful that crawled under her skin. Like something wicked was hiding just under all that serenity.

Zara was hosting this party full-out, practically skipping around with a Bluetooth speaker blasting cheerful tunes. Damien had taken off his shoes and was slicing strawberries, holding them in front of Rose’s lips one at a time like he was auditioning for the lead role in Flirty Farm Boy Falls for the Girl in a Wheelchair.

“Want another one?” he asked, holding it up to her mouth.

She smiled, shook her head politely. “You’re going to run out.”

“I’ve got a whole basket,” he said with a wink.

She forced a soft laugh. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the attention—it was just that it felt… wrong. Too public. Too fake. Too easy.

From behind the blanket, Rolan hadn’t uttered a single word. He sat at the periphery of the grouping like he didn’t belong there, arms folded, dark frames on. But even behind the glasses, she felt his eyes. Watching her. Tracking each movement. Seeping holes into Damien.

She would not look back at him.

And just as she was starting to relax, a voice sliced through the air like a knife drenched in perfume.

“Oh wow, what a spot. I almost turned too late.”

Rose’s stomach was twisted in knots.

Zara’s mouth dropped open like she’d just remembered something she absolutely had to tell her earlier. “Surprise!”

Rolan sprang up so fast it was ludicrous.

Lacey had arrived.

Long legs. Tight jeans. Red lips. An eleven’s confidence. Her eyes scanned the group and darted to Rose for exactly half a second before locking onto Rolan.

“Babe,” she drawled, her voice saccharine-sweet and making Rose want to toss a piece of fruit at something.

Rolan didn’t say a word. Didn’t even blink. Just clenched his jaw.

Zara, trying to save the day, smacked her palms together. “I invited her. Thought it would be less weird, y’know?”

Less weird?

the mood had changed.

It was officially weird as hell.

Lacey dropped her designer bag as if staking out territory, then walked in with the kind of walk that announced she knew all eyes were on her—and adored it.

Her gaze flickered over to Rose, then to the chair, then upwards again with a smile so cloying it could rot teeth.

“Rose, you appear. cozy,” she began with that head-tilt of passive-aggressive irritation.

“Thanks,” Rose replied in a dry tone. “You too.”

They stared at each other for half a second too long before Zara jumped in, all nervous energy and forced cheer.

“Lacey, come help me with the drinks. I need an extra hand before someone dies of dehydration.”

Lacey gave Rose one last sugar-coated sneer and followed Zara to the cooler, hips swinging like she was on a runway.

The moment they were out of view, Damien crept closer to Rose. He slouched beside her chair, his voice dropping into something low and soft.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Lying.” He smiled and pushed a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear. “But still lovely when you do.”

Rose didn’t flinch. She didn’t halt him. It was actually a relief to have someone else pretend for her for once.

She didn’t know she was being gazed at until she sensed the heat of Rolan’s eyes before she even looked up.

He was thinking of them like a man after a blackout. Jaw hard. Shoulders huddled in. And when he got up and started to move towards Lacey, it was with a near-swaggering stride that wasn’t careless—it was calculated.

Rose’s heart stumbled. She knew that stride.

He reached Lacey just as she pulled two drinks from the cooler. Without missing a beat, he slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.

“Glad you’re here, babe,” he said loud enough for the whole damn field to hear. “Things were getting boring without you.”

Rose’s breath caught.

Lacey blinked, dazed for a second—but then a smile broke over her face as if she’d just won some prize. She spun into Rolan’s chest with a radiant laugh and allowed him to pull her close.

Rose didn’t blink. Rose didn’t wince. Her lips folded up into a small, unguessable line. She didn’t even realize that she’d wrumpled up the napkin in her fist.

Damien leaned in close, whispering, “Disregard. He’s testing for a response.”

She didn’t flinch.

Because it was working.

Petty.

Toxic.

Deliciously insincere.

The energy was chaotic, and Rose sipped her sparkling juice as if it were wine at a reality show reunion. Her expression? Blank. Unfazed. Actress-level.

She didn’t look at Rolan. Not once.

Let him pretend happy couple with Lacey. Let him say what he wanted, touch what he wanted. She wasn’t going to bat an eyelash. Wasn’t going to give him what he wanted.

He didn’t exist today.

Until the earth betrayed her.

She was wheeling herself a little too fast—because if she didn’t, she’d burst—and she hadn’t seen the root growing out of the ground. The wheel caught. The chair surged forward.

Her body jolted.

Everything listed.

And then—

Strong arms wrapped around her. Quick. Firm. Steady.

Damien.

He picked her up as if she weighed nothing, as if catching her was the easiest thing he’d done all day. His voice in her ear in a flash.

“Got you. You okay?”

Rose’s eyes flew wide, her knuckles gripping his shoulders white. Her face was hot. Not from falling. Because he’d leaned in so close. Because it hadn’t been Rolan who had inched forward.

She swallowed hard, words caught in her throat. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just stupid.”

“You’re not,” Damien said, already gently placing her back in her seat as if she were fragile.

Zara and Lacey sprinted, both wide-eyed and overreacting in completely opposite ways—Zara panicking, Lacey trying to look worried but completely enjoying the melodrama.

But Rolan?

He hadn’t moved.

He remained where he was. Still holding on to Lacey like a broken action figure. Jaw set. Fists clenched. Eyes unreadable.

He didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.

Rose saw it happen.

She saw everything.

And she allowed it to burn into her.

Later, after the sun started to dip and everyone packed up—shaking off the awkward moment like it hadn’t cracked something beneath the surface—Rose reached into her tote for her phone.

Her hand brushed paper.

A folded note. Small. Torn. Written in pen. No signature.

She opened it.

Four words.

You’re not safe.

Her fingers tightened.

She looked around—their little group still laughing, still moving, still pretending everything was fine.

Someone was lying.

And someone was watching her too closely.