Echoes of Vengeance: The Sweet Wife's Perfect Revenge
Chapter 72: The Standards

Chapter 72: The Standards

In Obsidian,

Alaric had just reached behind Aveline, who stood in the hall, looking at an identical corridor. "It’s like a riddle." She said.

Alaric was about to offer to take her around when his mobile rang. He answered it to hear, [Sir, Damien Ashford is here.]

He reluctantly repeated it to her, "Damien Ashford is here."

Aveline watched him take a hallway before she turned to the entrance.

A Ferrari came to a halt, and Damien stepped out, looking suave. She flashed a practiced soft smile as he approached her with a gaze that could make one shiver.

"Finally, we’re out for dinner," she mused.

He caressed her head, not even hiding the suspicion in his eyes as he smirked. "It’s just the start. We’ll be coming out more often."

Aveline struggled to brighten her smile. She wanted this to be the last dinner. She wanted him to be too busy to bother her.

"We’ll see," she replied.

Damien glanced at Mike Wilson nearby and asked her, "Why are you standing here?"

Aveline shrugged. "I don’t know where to go." She pointed at the identical hallways. "Why aren’t there any signboards?" She didn’t directly mention it was her first time. But Damien knew.

Since she had started showing interest, he had gone ahead to start the process of revoking Sinclair’s membership..

Telling Mike to go ahead to the restaurant, Damien led her to a private room, privacy and isolation, always his choice. All the while, he kept confirming to himself that she really didn’t know Obsidian.

Once they had ordered, Aveline started, "So, will you be free every evening? Could we have dinner together every day?" She sounded eager.

Damien merely hummed in response.

She grinned. "I want to try a few restaurants. Shall I make bookings for us? Weekly, once maybe? We’ll be tired after work, so we’ll have home food for the rest of the days."

He was hearing this kind of talk for the first time.

’Should he commit his whole life to this plan?’ It felt confining and boring.

He didn’t want her in his space. He just wanted her to stop meddling in his life, do her work, eat, sleep and let him f**k her when he wanted, if he even chose to keep her around.

Why did he need to have dinner with her?

Wasn’t breakfast enough?

Wasn’t paying her bills and handing her a limitless card enough?

Anyway, he answered, "Sure."

After a few more suggestions of going to concerts, vacationing, shopping, and planning surprise dates, he found himself silently revolting against married life with her.

Unable to bear it anymore, Damien asked, "What did you do on Saturday?"

She was looking at the wine glass in front of her when the waiter placed it. Though she wasn’t the one to compare, she just couldn’t help it.

Damien ordered wine for her, and she was on medication.

She watched him eat his steak while she hadn’t touched her fork. She smiled, feeling ironic.

Even if Damien didn’t love Vivienne or her, even if he kept her in his life, he still wasn’t worthy of her.

She deserved better.

She wasn’t going to settle for anything less. If she did, it would be an insult to the standards her father raised her with.

She spoke when Damien turned to her, "I woke up early, went golfing. Dad was teasing me, I might’ve lost touch after holed up for two months. In the afternoon, I met a client."

It felt surreal referring to Alaric as a ’client’, the same way Damien referred to Vivienne.

The only difference was, Damien was sleeping with Vivienne, and she was getting Alaric’s help to destroy him.

"Then I went on a date with Dad." She gave him the truth. "What about you? Work?"

Damien frowned. Date?

Who goes on dates with their father?

He cut to the chase. "Did you meet Lawrence Ashford?" He knew they met.

Aveline casually hummed, then grimaced. "He makes me oddly uncomfortable. I even lost my appetite."

Damien kept digging. What did you two talk about? Why didn’t you avoid him? Why did you go alone?

But she didn’t flinch. There was no nervousness in her response, no cracks in her tone.

Then she pouted, displeased with the topic, "Enough talk about him. Tell me, how was your day?"

Damien dropped his knife and fork. The metal clatter was sharp, making her flinch. He leaned back on his chair and narrowed his eyes on her, "Why did you tell him about the Twin Tower project?"

"Why would I talk about your business with him?" she asked back. "Isn’t he a director at your company?"

She sighed. "Damien, what’s happening? Did you meet me for dinner... or to interrogate me about what I said to your uncle?"

Damien stared at her. He had tried to provoke her, but she stayed calm without revealing any hints. Nothing suspicious.

He pulled out his mobile and called Lawrence on speaker. He watched her, but she looked confused, nothing more, nothing less.

Lawrence spat the moment he answered the call, [Did you call me to gloat?]

"Did you meet my wife at the Golf?"

There was a brief pause before he hissed, [What now? I shouldn’t even talk to her?]

"Did she tell you about the Twin Tower project?"

[Heh? I found out when I looked into redevelopment rights in the eastern district.]

Aveline was glad Lawrence stood by his words to keep their business talk out of Damien’s ears.

She stood, grabbed her bag, and walked out of the private room.

Damien cursed under his breath and followed her, "Nina." He caught her hand in the corridor, but she shrugged off his hand.

"You doubted me?" Her voice was low, but cutting. "You didn’t come to have dinner with your wife, Damien. You came to confirm a suspicion. Now that you’ve got your answer, you don’t need to pretend. Bye."

He grabbed her hand, pulled her around to face him. "Nina..."

She didn’t let him speak. "Damien Ashford, this isn’t the first time you doubted me. Neither do you have time for me, nor do you know anything about me. Why are we even in this marriage?"

"Nina, I’m sorry." He said quietly and tried to justify. "Lawrence.."

"Lawrence, what?" She cut him off. "Yesterday, it was the housekeeper. Today it’s Lawrence Ashford. Tomorrow, someone else."

She took a breath, "Damien, if there’s no trust and respect in a relationship, there shouldn’t be a relationship at all. And I don’t need a husband who can’t trust me."

She started walking again, he held her arms. "Listen to me..."

Aveline shook her head, refusing to hear him, "Before I say something I can’t take back, let me go."

He let her go, assuming she would wait for him by the door, crying. He watched her disappear in the way they came.

Aveline stood near the elevator when the one going up opened, revealing Alaric.

Before she could react, he stepped forward without hesitation, wrapped an arm around her waist, and lifted her off the floor.

Aveline: "..."

With her face close to his neck, she didn’t want to breathe, but his scent hit her. The woody note with a hint of spice smelled expensive and dangerous.

He smelled like strong liquor. Intoxicating.

Having her waist fit in his arm wasn’t something she wanted to feel.

Her shoulders tensed, her body frozen.

As the elevator doors slid shut behind them, neither of them spoke.

The silence should have been awkward. But instead, it crackled when he slowly let her feet touch the floor while she avoided his eyes.

He stepped back just enough and leaned closer. His voice barely above a whisper, his warm breath grazing her ear, "You don’t have to suffer like this."

Her breath hitched. Not because of what he said. Because of how close he was when he said it.

She looked away. Because she was terrified of what she might see in his eyes.