The Abandoned Wife's Second Chance (Scarlett and Jasper) novel Chapter 181

Bonus Chapter 3

(Dorian’s POV)

The woman sitting across from me won’t stop talking.

425 Painte

“-and then I told my stylist, ‘Darling, if it’s not Valentino, I’m simply not interested.‘ You understand, don’t you, Dorian? Quality over quantity. That’s always been my philosophy. But the audacity of that boutique manager. I mean, who does she think she is, telling me that Valentino is out of season? Valentino is never out of season. It’s a classic. A statement piece. But some people just don’t understand fashion the way we do, you know?”

I don’t know. I’ve never given a damn about Valentino or any other designer she’s name–dropped in the last half hour. But Penelope Montgomery doesn’t seem to notice–or care–that I haven’t contributed more than three words to this conversation.

I reach for my wine glass and realize it’s empty. Again.

How long have I been sitting here? Twenty minutes? An hour? Time moves differently in hell, I’ve discovered. Especially this particular circle–the fifth blind date my grandmother has orchestrated in as many weeks.

Five dates in two weeks.

That’s my grandmother’s latest crusade. Five perfectly curated women. Five supposedly “ideal matches.” Five torture sessions disguised as dinner.

This one–date number five–might actually be the worst.

My fingers find the small jade pendant in my pocket–a habit I picked up years ago when I need to feel grounded. The smooth stone is warm against my palm, worn from years of touching it when the world gets too loud.

It’s the only thing I kept from my life before. Before the money. Before the penthouse and the suits and the blind dates with women who think three hours spent on a single i********: photo is hard work.

Back when I was nobody. Nothing. Just a starving kid on the streets who would’ve died if not

for-

“Oh, and did I mention I just hit three million followers? My engagement rate is absolutely ins ane right now,” Penelope continues, her perfectly manicured fingers dancing across her phone screen. “My i********: aesthetic is very curated, you see. Everything has to match. I spent three hours yesterday just getting the lighting right for one photo. But that’s what it

1/6

< Bonus Chapter 3

+25 Pods

takes to maintain a brand, you know? People don’t realize how much work goes into–Dorian? Are you listening?”

I force my eyes back to her face. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

Her glossy lips purse in annoyance, but she recovers quickly, launching into another monologue about her “incredibly stressful” life of yacht parties and fashion shows.

“Three point two million followers. Can you believe it? My manager says I’m on track to hit five million by the end of the year. I’m thinking about launching a skincare line. Something luxurious but accessible, you know? Well, accessible for people who understand quality.”

She laughs at her own joke. I don’t.

My phone vibrates against my thigh. I shouldn’t check it. Basic manners dictate I give her my full attention, pretend I’m interested in her follower count and her upcoming skincare empire.

But manners left me somewhere around minute thirty–two, right after the story about her yacht party in Monaco.

I pull out my phone.

It’s Jasper.

The photo loads slowly, and when it does, something sharp and familiar lodges itself behind my ribs.

Scarlett. Flour dusting her cheek, eyes bright with laughter. Jasper beside her, looking at her like she’s the only thing that matters in his entire world.

The caption reads: She said yes. We’re having a wedding. A real one this time.

I stare at the screen longer than I should.

I’m happy for them. I am. They fought like hell to find their way back to each other, and they deserve every bit of happiness they’ve found.

But that doesn’t stop the hollow ache spreading through my chest like ink in water.

I could’ve fought for her. Should’ve, maybe. But she’d always loved him, and I wasn’t going to be the man who stood between them when they finally had their shot at getting it right.

So I stepped back. Did the noble thing.

And it’s been eating me alive ever since.

“Dorian?”

2/6

< Bonus Chapter 3

I look up. Penelope’s staring at me with those impossibly blue eyes, her expression hovering somewhere between annoyed and confused.

“Sorry. What?”

Her lips press into a thin line. “I asked if you prefer the Maldives or Bora Bora for a winter escape. I’m trying to decide where to go for my birthday trip.”

“I don’t care.”

The words come out harsher than I intend. Her eyes widen slightly, but she recovers fast, laughing like I’ve made some kind of joke.

“Oh, you’re so funny. But seriously, which one? I need to book soon if I want the overwater villa.”

I can’t do this anymore.

I’m not even sure why I agreed to this in the first place. Gran’s been relentless since Scarlett left–setting up dates, introducing me to daughters of her friends, acting like finding me a wife is her personal mission.

She means well. I know she does. But every woman she parades in front of me feels wrong. Fake. Like trying to fit puzzle pieces together that were never meant to connect.

My brain has gone into survival mode, and right now, survival means getting the hell out of this restaurant before I say something I’ll regret.

Or worse, before she says something that makes me want to walk into traffic.

“Penelope.” I cut through her latest story about some charity gala. “I’m sorry, but I need to leave.”

She blinks. “What? But we haven’t even ordered dessert.”

“I have an early meeting.” The lie slides out easily. Too easily. “This was… nice. But I should

go.”

I’m already standing, reaching for my wallet. I pull out three hundred–dollar bills and drop them on the table. More than enough to cover dinner and whatever damage I’m doing to her

ego.

“Wait-” She stands too, her voice pitching higher. “Dorian, are you serious right now? Your grandmother said-”

“My grandmother said to give you a chance,” I say, buttoning my jacket. “But this isn’t going to

376

– Bonus Chapter 3

work. I’m sorry.”

I don’t wait for her response.

+256

I just walk past the other tables with their happy couples and anniversary celebrations. Past the hostess who gave me a sympathetic smile when I arrived an hour ago. Past the fake plants and the too–bright lighting and the suffocating sense of wrongness that’s been choking me since I sat down.

The night air hits me like a slap when I push through the doors. Cold. Sharp. Real.

I suck in a breath and let it burn my lungs.

My phone buzzes again. Gran this time.

How did it go, darling? Penelope’s mother said she was so excited to meet you.

I stare at the message for a long moment before typing back: It didn’t.

Her response is immediate. Oh, Dorian. You can’t keep doing this.

Doing what?

Running from the truth. Scarlett is happy with Jasper. You need to move on.

I don’t reply to that one.

I shove my phone in my pocket and start walking. No destination. Just away. Away from the restaurant and Penelope’s three million followers and my grandmother’s well–meaning meddling.

The streets are packed for a Thursday night. Couples everywhere. Holding hands. Laughing. They make it look as if it’s so easy to be happy.

Like love isn’t complicated and messy and leaves you bleeding in the middle of nowhere.

I turn down a side street, needing quiet.

That’s when I see her.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify