Elodie''s brows knit ever so slightly as she nced at Jarrod, the movement so subtle it barely registered.
She was surprised, of course, but more than that, a creeping sense of strangeness settled over her-something she just couldn''t rationalize.
It had been ages since Jarrodst wore his wedding ring. So long, in fact, that she couldn''t even remember when he''d stopped. For years, she''d been the only one still wearing that symbol of their marriage, clinging to the illusion of happiness, keeping up appearances for a life that only existed on the surface.
She used to tell herself it was because they both worked at The Silverstein Group. Perhaps if they both wore those rings-designed by some celebrated French jeweler-it would be too conspicuous, too easy for prying eyes to connect the dots.
So she never asked.
But the more she thought about it, the more she realized it wasn''t about keeping things discreet at all. He simply didn''t want to wear it.
His grandmother had asked about the ring countless times, reminding him to put it on, even if only at home. Yet Jarrod never agreed. He always brushed it off.
It was never about pretense. It was his own unwillingness.
After a while, Elodie just assumed he''d lost the ring altogether. She''d believed that for so long-until now.
Seeing it again left no room for doubt.
Jarrod was using this, in and simple, to silence the rumors and spection that had been swirling around them.
The ring gleamed on his slender finger. He made no effort to hide it, and soon enough, people around them started to notice. Their reactions were telling, their expressions a mix of surprise and calction.
Everyone here knew who Mr. Silverstein was. With his status, if the gossip had any truth to it, why would he bother with a performance?
Patricia understood that perfectly, and the smile at the corner of her lips faded just a touch.
Someone couldn''t help but ask, "Mr. Silverstein, you''re not usually one to attend these events. What brings you by tonight?"
Jarrod seemed oblivious to the shifting nces. He stood calmly at Elodie''s side. "There were some baseless rumors floating around today," he said, voice even. “I was worried it might upset my wife, so I cleared my schedule to be here with her. I didn''t want her hearing anything unpleasant and feeling ufortable."
A perfectly reasonable answer.
But depending on who was listening, it struck differently.
Those watching from the sidelines remained impassive, but the ones who''d been gossiping looked distinctly ufortable.
Was there any need to wonder anymore? The man himself had shown up to set the record straight.
Elodie pressed her lips together and felt a strange mix of emotions. Jarrod''s actions, intentional or not, had tied them together once again.
Even if his statement was nothing more than a public denial, even if he used the uproar as an excuse to prepare his grandmother for a future divorce, she''d likely just me it all on a mistaken beginning and let things go.
Elodie knew better than most how quickly the inte forgets. So long as she kept
a low profile from here on out, the story would fade. Years in PR had taught her that much.
Which meant that if Jarrod, as the "injured party," just issued a simple rification,
it would be enough to calm the storm.
But no-he''d chosen to address it personally, to make his point clear.
"Well, aren''t you two just lovely," someone piped up, smiling brightly. "Mr. Silverstein, with everything on your te, you still made time to
Others quickly caught on and chimed in, "People these days just can''t stand seeing others happy. They''ll make up anything just to stir the pot As if anyone can just throw dirt at Mr. Silverstein without a thought."
The realization dawned on more than a few faces.
That''s right. Who was Mr. Silverstein, if not someone above all this?
As if he could be forced into anything so easily.
If anyone tried to y dirty, Jarrod would only strike back harder.
This charity event was going to be publicized. His presence tonight wasn''t just a gesture of support. There was nothing simple about it.
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