In that moment, Seth felt like a stranger.


    Yet they had once shared the most intimate moments imaginable.


    …


    Sophia poured a cup of hot water for Noreen, her eyes full of concern. “Noreen, are you alright?”


    “I’m fine. I can manage,” Noreen replied, taking a sip and feeling the warmth settle her stomach. “How are things outside?”


    “Everything’s under control,” Sophia sighed, a note of resignation in her voice. “You should really worry about yourself for once–there’s not a trace of color in your face.”


    “Go on, I’ll just rest a bit,” Noreen said softly, knowing Sophia was needed elsewhere. “If there’s anything, I’ll call.”


    “Alright. Don’t hesitate if you need me.”


    As soon as Sophia left, Noreen leaned against the wall, hoping for a brief moment of quiet, but her phone buzzed before she could close her eyes.


    Seth.


    She answered, her voice heavy with fatigue. “Mr. Harcourt.”


    “Where are you?” His tone was icy, even through the phone.


    “In the restroom.”


    “Hurry up ande here.”


    Noreen wanted to ask why, but he hung up before she could utter another word.


    Apparently, saying anything more to her was a waste of his precious time. Forcing herself to rally, Noreen stepped back into the reception hall.


    11-20


    Seth stood amid the guests, all easy charm andughter.


    How could he not be in good spirits, with both his business and romantic life thriving?


    When he saw her approach, his smile faltered and a faint frown creased


    his brow.


    He was probably annoyed she hadn’t put on a proper dress.


    But with the guests watching, he said nothing–just lifted his chin slightly, signaling her to serve drinks.


    Clearly, that call had been nothing more than a summons: he wanted her to run interference for him, just like before–ready at his beck and call.


    Noreen hesitated for a heartbeat. “Mr. Harcourt, my stomach isn’t feeling


    well.”


    Seth’s frown deepened, as if he hadn’t expected any resistance.


    His voice dropped, cool and insistent. “This is Mr. Naylor from Eastvale Capital.”


    A leading figure in the Northfield investment circle–someone who simply had to be amodated.


    With no choice, Noreen picked up a ss of wine and clinked it with Mr. Naylor’s.


    The words came to her automatically, so well–rehearsed they felt etched


    into her bones.


    “I’m so sorry, Mr. Naylor–Mr. Harcourt has a severe allergy to alcohol, so I’ll drink on his behalf.”


    Fortunately, Mr. Naylor was gracious. “If you’re not feeling well, you don’t need to drink for us. The friendship between Mr. Harcourt and me doesn’t need to be measured in sses.”


    “Thank you, Mr. Naylor.”


    With his lead, the other executives let the drinking ritual slide.


    14:29 S


    Noreen breathed a silent sigh of relief–just as Bianca arrived.


    She slipped her arm through Seth’s, a picture of effortless intimacy, and joined in the conversation with practiced ease.


    Noreen noticed Bianca’s ss held only fruit juice–not wine. Seth must


    have allowed it.


    After all, he’d once set aside his own alcohol allergy to shield Bianca from drinking.


    This–this was what it looked like to be cherished, to be someone’s


    priority.


    Seven years by Seth’s side, and Noreen realized she had never once been on the receiving end of such consideration. Not even a hint of warmth.


    Even now, when she told him directly that she was unwell, all he cared about was not offending an important guest.


    Bianca had only been in his life a month, yet already received every ounce


    of his attention and care.


    It was different–of course it was.


    A man’s one true love, the kind they put on a pedestal, is something they never let go.


    Turns out, not even Seth was immune to that cliché.


    Noreen calmly turned away, ready to slip out unnoticed, when she saw Dn approaching her through the crowd.