Marrying my secret admirer after my husband's fake death novel Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Edith thought to herself that every member of the Hawksley family was so gracious and polite-truly the mark of a distinguished household.

After resting for a while, she felt a bit better and tried to get up from the bed. Justin, however, gently stopped her. “I spoke with Mrs. Sumner,” he said. “You’re staying with the Hawksleys tonight. There’s no need to go back-the weather’s dreadful, and it’s not safe out there.”

Flustered, Edith waved her hands. She was a traditional woman at heart. “No, no, I couldn’t possibly. We’re not married yet-me staying here would only damage your reputation. People will talk.”

The Vance family already had it out for her, and every one of them was sharp-tongued. Who knew what kind of gossip they’d spread?

But Justin just looked at her, completely unfazed. “What reputation? You’re about to be my wife. Besides, I’ve never cared what people say. And if you do, I promise you-I have a hundred ways to make them keep

their mouths shut.”

There was something commanding in his quiet confidence that made Edith feel completely at ease.

So she stayed the night at the Hawksleys.

While Justin went to check if the guest room was ready, Edith finally had

a chance to take in the bedroom’s design.

The room was decorated in a classic palette of black, white, and gray-elegant without being dull.

On the wall hung a painting by a postmodern artist. Edith recognized the style immediately.

A Stein Lockwood original. Not easy to come by.

One of his pieces had recently fetched nearly seven figures at auction.

Her mind drifted. Back at Northcrest University, Stein had been a year

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Chapter 45

above her. After graduation, he’d gone off to Italy to continue his studies, while she’d married Beckett instead.

Beckett had always hated the mess of paint and brushes, so she’d rarely painted at home. She’d set up a tiny space for herself on the bedroom balcony, and whenever she had the house to herself, she’d sketch or paint to pass the time.

Beckett never understood her art and never praised her for it. Occasionally, he’d simply pinch her nose and ask if she was tired.

How could anyone be tired when they’re doing what they love?

A low rumble of thunder rolled in from outside, but with the bedroom door shut tight and the curtains drawn, the sound seemed less like thunder and more like someone hammering on wood.

Edith sighed. The weather had been fine when she’d left earlier-how was it that every time she needed to go home, the sky turned to storm and lightning?

Hospital.

Heather had just returned from stirring up trouble at the Sumner residence. Even if she hadn’t gotten exactly what she wanted, at least her main goal had been achieved.

Now, the entire social circle knew that Edith couldn’t have children.

Beckett sat at Salome’s bedside, and when he heard the news, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction.

Perfect.

If the old man found out Edith was infertile, he’d surely call off the wedding.

And even if he stubbornly went through with it, Edith’s future with him would be miserable-then she’d finally understand how good she’d had it with the Vances.

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