Chapter 3

Kobe was kneeling on the floor, a shoehorn in his hand, carefully helping Felicie try on a pair of ridiculously high heels.

"Are they comfortable, Fee?" he asked, his voice soft and full of concern.

"They're a little tight," Felicie pouted, leaning on him for support. "But they're so beautiful."

"Then we'll take them," Kobe said without hesitation. "And we'll get them in every color." He looked up at her, his eyes full of a doting indulgence Delma had never seen. "I remember you always loved this brand."

Delma felt the air leave her lungs. He remembered. After all these years, he still remembered Felicie's favorite shoe brand. He had never once remembered Delma's.

"But Kobe, that's too much," Felicie said, though her eyes danced with delight.

"Nothing is too much for you," he said, his voice low. "I have a lot to make up for."

Delma finally understood. He wasn't just being kind to an old flame. He was trying to rebuild their past, to erase the years they had spent apart, the years he had spent with Delma.

The sales associates fawned over them. "You two make such a beautiful couple," one gushed. "A love story for the ages."

Kobe didn't correct her. He simply smiled, a genuine, happy smile that reached his eyes. It was a smile Delma had seen only in old photos of him with Felicie.

He helped Felicie to her feet, his arm securely around her waist. The gesture was so natural, so possessive.

A pain, sharp and visceral, shot through Delma's chest. She felt like an intruder, a ghost watching a life that was never meant to be hers.

She turned and walked out of the store, the sound of Felicie's happy laughter following her. She didn't need a new dress. She would wear one of her own.

The charity gala was held at a grand ballroom, glittering with chandeliers and overflowing with the city's elite. Delma arrived alone. She saw Kobe immediately, standing at the center of a circle of admirers, Felicie tucked securely at his side. He looked powerful and at ease, a king in his court.

He noticed her arrive, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he turned back to his conversation. He excused himself and walked toward a group of business partners, motioning for Felicie to entertain them. "I need to make sure Delma doesn't cause a scene," she heard him mutter as he passed.

She wanted to laugh. A scene? She was long past caring enough to cause a scene.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere grew more lively. A portly businessman, a major competitor of the Kidd family, approached Felicie with a glass of champagne.

"Miss Richardson," he said with a lecherous smile. "An honor. Let's have a drink."

Before Felicie could respond, Kobe was there, smoothly taking the glass from the man's hand. "Felicie doesn't drink," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I'll take this one for her."

Delma's blood ran cold.

"Kobe, don't," she said, stepping forward instinctively. "You can't. Your allergy..."

He was severely allergic to alcohol. It was something she had discovered on their wedding day. His mother had insisted on a champagne toast, and despite his protests, she had forced a glass into his hand. He had taken a single sip and collapsed, his throat closing up. He had almost died. It was a terrifying memory, one that had ensured Delma always kept him away from alcohol.

But her warning was too late. To defend Felicie's honor, to prove his devotion, Kobe lifted the glass and drank the entire thing in one swallow.

Delma closed her eyes, a wave of sickness washing over her.

The night descended into chaos. The businessman, drunk and angry at being rebuffed, began to insult Felicie. "Everyone knows what you are," he slurred. "Just a washed-up actress trying to latch onto the Kidd fortune."

Delma remembered a time when Kobe would have handled such a situation with a cold, cutting remark and a quiet dismissal. He despised public displays of aggression.

But this was different. This was about Felicie.

With a guttural roar, Kobe lunged at the man, his fist connecting with a sickening crunch. The ballroom erupted in screams.

"Kobe, stop!" Delma cried, rushing forward to grab his arm.

He flung her away without a second glance. She stumbled backward, her heel catching on the carpet, and fell hard to the floor. The impact sent a jarring pain up her spine.

He didn't notice. He was a man possessed, raining blows down on the businessman, his face contorted with a rage she had never witnessed.

"Kobe, please, you'll kill him!" Felicie sobbed, finally grabbing his arm.

Her touch was all it took. He stopped instantly. He stood up, breathing heavily, and glared down at the bloodied man on the floor. "If you ever speak to her like that again," he snarled, "I will destroy you."

He wrapped his arm around the weeping Felicie and led her away, leaving a stunned crowd and Delma, alone and forgotten on the ballroom floor. The physical pain in her back was a dull ache compared to the sharp, piercing agony in her heart.