Chapter 646 Samuel Snaps: Get the Hell Out, Zenobia 1
The sight was suffocating.
Samuel had never seen Zenobia so brazen. She was utterly lost in Geraldo's arms, clinging to him as though nothing else existed, whispering things that made Samuel's stomach turn.
He stood at the crack of the lounge door, watching the shameless pair. By all rights, he should have stormed in and torn Geraldo apart for sleeping with his future wife. But instead, Samuel was disturbingly calm.
Not tonight.
Just beyond the wall, hundreds of distinguished guests mingled in the grand ballroom. If this scandal broke here, it would humiliate him beyond repair. She was just a woman, after all—and they weren't even legally married yet.
Even so, the bile rose in his throat. He walked to the far end of the corridor, lit a cigarette by the window, and let the night air cool his rage. He needed to think about what came next for him and Zenobia.
The wind outside howled.
Behind him, the ballroom pulsed with music and laughter. In the lounge, Zenobia writhed with another man. And Samuel… Samuel waited for them to finish.
How poetic.
Through the glass, the city's neon lights glimmered in the distance. His own reflection stared back at him—cold, dark, unrecognizable.
A soft female voice broke the silence. "Luna, slow down. The floor's slippery."
Samuel froze.
Taylor.
He turned his head and saw her leading a little girl toward the restroom. He recognized Luna instantly—Julian's daughter. The child clung to Taylor's hand, giggling up at her, while Taylor's face was lit with warmth and affection.
Samuel watched in silence.
Did she hate him that much? Enough to choose being Luna's stepmother over having a child with him?
Taylor never noticed him. She returned with Luna just as Julian approached. He'd shed his coat, wearing only a crisp white shirt that clung perfectly to his frame. The fabric pulled ever so slightly at his waist, hinting at the strength beneath.
Julian's hand brushed Taylor's waist before he bent to murmur something. She tilted her head, answering softly. They looked… intimate.
Julian smiled, scooped Luna into his arms, and the three of them walked toward the ballroom—like a family.
Samuel didn't move. He stood there until the cigarette burned down to ash and the last trace of smoke vanished into the night. Then, as if waking from a trance, he pulled out his phone and dialed Zenobia.
It rang five or six times before she answered. "Samuel?"
He stood at the window, voice deceptively gentle. "Still in the restroom? The guests are waiting for you."
"Just a minute! You have no idea how hard it is to use the bathroom in this couture gown. The zipper's a nightmare—I had to get a server to help. Let me touch up my makeup and I'll be right there."
"Alright," he said flatly.
Inside the lounge, Zenobia hung up and lingered in Geraldo's arms a moment longer before reluctantly pulling away. She fussed with her dress, complaining that he'd wrinkled it.
Geraldo smirked. "You knew what today was, and you still couldn't resist me?"
Zenobia, dabbing on lipstick at the mirror, shrugged. "It's just a show. Samuel's easy to fool."
Geraldo adjusted his shirt and slid an arm around her waist, kissing her neck. "When's the next time?"
Truth be told, her looks didn't thrill him anymore—but she was Samuel's woman. That made it a thrill.
Zenobia thought for a moment. "A few days."
He grinned and left first.
Moments later, Zenobia stepped out—only to find Samuel standing there, his face like stone.
"Samuel? What are you doing here?"
Under the chandelier's glow, he stared at her long enough to make her squirm. Then, in a slow, measured voice, he said, "That's a long trip to the restroom. All the guests are waiting on you."
Relieved, she slipped her arm through his. "I'm exhausted! I had no idea high-society weddings were this tiring."
Once, Samuel would have basked in such words. Now they made him sick.
He would never forget the sight of her with Geraldo, nor the humiliation she had brought him. But to her face, he remained the doting husband, even leaning in as if to kiss her. "You'll get used to it," he murmured.
"You're so good to me," she smiled, resting her head on his shoulder.
Where she couldn't see, his lips curled in a cold smile.
Samuel gave Zenobia the kind of wedding most women dreamed of. All across Evergreen City, women envied her—and pitied Taylor for letting such a man go. Taylor sat beside Julian, her expression unreadable as she watched Samuel's public display of affection.
She had been married to him for seven years. She knew the difference between real warmth and an act. His eyes were dead.
Taylor guessed he had discovered Zenobia's affair.
Zenobia, oblivious, paraded around on Samuel's arm, basking in her new title of Mrs. Collins.
Taylor's chest tightened. For all their failures, Samuel had not been a cruel man. To see him end up like this was… bittersweet.
A piece of beef landed in her bowl. She looked up to find Julian watching her. "Eat. Stop staring at other people."
"Daddy's jealous!" Luna giggled.
Taylor's cheeks warmed. Julian held her gaze a moment longer before turning to Luna. "Comments like that are for home. You'll embarrass Taylor."
Taylor sighed, but Julian's eyes lingered—her blush clearly had an effect on him.
Before the moment could deepen, Avery arrived with a wine glass in hand. He didn't need to be here, but he'd come for the spectacle. The first thing he saw was Taylor with Julian and a child.
He studied Luna. The girl beamed up at him. "Mr. Montague!"
Avery ruffled her hair, unaware that somewhere in Vesper City, he had another daughter—born in secret by Isadora years before their so-called first time together. Maggie Penrose, now four, was being raised far away.
Taylor was surprised to see him. Avery caught her look and smirked toward Julian. "Dad sent me. Said to tell you both to come home for dinner sometime—and not to elope without telling him."
Julian chuckled. "Too late. She's already said yes."
"Quick work," Avery said, lifting his glass before making his exit. He had no desire to watch Samuel's charade any longer.
Later, in the underground garage, Avery slid into his Rolls-Royce Phantom—only to spot Isadora's car a few spaces away. Inside sat a nanny cradling a little girl with twin braids.
Avery assumed she was a relative's child. He started his engine and drove off, never knowing she was his own flesh and blood.
Minutes later, Isadora returned with a bag of milk cartons. "Mommy!" Maggie chirped.
Isadora kissed her through the open window and handed her the drink. The nanny smiled. "She's settled in well here in Vesper City."
Isadora nodded. She trusted the nanny, but the ache of separation never left. In two years, she would bring Maggie home.
By the time Avery left, Taylor and Julian had also gone. Samuel's wedding wound down.
That night, a long black Lincoln rolled into the Collins estate. In the back seat, Zenobia, draped in a crimson gown, looked at Samuel with shy affection. "We're finally engaged. You're mine now."
In the shadows, his face was unreadable. He thought of all he had sacrificed—Taylor, his pride—for a woman like Zenobia. A woman not even worthy to stand in Taylor's shadow.
He gently pushed her away.
Her eyes widened in confusion.
"Pack your things," he said, his voice like ice. "And get out."
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