Reborn As Mr. Coldwell's Wife
Chapter 67: Relax Day

Chapter 67: Relax Day

Ellen lay on the plush bed of her hotel room, staring up at the ceiling. She couldn’t stop replaying the events of the previous night, the wedding party that seemed to linger in her thoughts like an unwelcome guest.

Her head buzzed with the memory of it all. The laughter, the clinking of champagne glasses, the murmur of conversations that had felt so distant and yet so piercing all at once. And then there was Edrick—Ellen Winters’ ex-boyfriend, not hers. She had to keep reminding herself of that fact every second. She didn’t know him. She didn’t have history with him. But even so, the mere presence of him stirred something within her that was difficult to shake off.

Ellen sighed heavily, her fingers curling around the soft fabric of the bedspread. It was maddening. She had never met Edrick before, not in her life before, at least. And yet, there was this strange, unsettling nervousness that gnawed at her every time their eyes met. It was as though her body remembered something her mind couldn’t, a connection that didn’t exist but still managed to make her skin prickle with discomfort.

"Why did they have to put us all at the same table?" she muttered to herself, frustration creeping into her voice. It was bad enough to be in the same room as him, but to be seated together, forced into close proximity with Mason on one side and Edrick on the other? It was a cruel twist of fate. The tension was almost suffocating, every word exchanged between the three of them was tinged with a hidden meaning, something that Ellen couldn’t quite place.

She turned onto her side, curling up slightly as if trying to shield herself from the memories. But they kept coming, relentless and unforgiving. The dance. Of all the things she could have anticipated, dancing with Mason hadn’t been one of them. After all, she had thought he didn’t care. She had been so certain of it, watching him sit there, seemingly unbothered as she danced with Edrick.

But then, just when she was beginning to accept that lack of concern, Mason had stepped in. They had danced together, his hand firm around her waist, his expression as unreadable as ever. Ellen bit her lip, replaying his words in her mind. He had told her that she was a terrible dancer, that he didn’t want her to embarrass herself—or, more accurately, didn’t want her to embarrass him.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the thought, but it was no use. Despite the harshness of his words, despite the coldness in his tone, Ellen couldn’t help but hope there was another reason, something beyond his concern for the family name. Maybe, just maybe, Mason didn’t like seeing her with someone else. Maybe he cared more than he let on, more than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

But then again, Ellen knew she was clutching at unlikely hopes. The truth was likely much simpler, much less romantic. She had a reason to be wary of Aubrey—Mason’s ex-girlfriend, the woman who clearly wanted him back. That much was undeniable.

But what about Mason? Did he have a valid reason to dislike Edrick? A furrow appeared on Ellen’s brow as she pondered. It wasn’t like Mason to be jealous, or at least, he had never shown it before. They weren’t in love, not really.

So why had he stepped in last night? Was it simply because Edrick was a rival in business? That would make sense, she supposed.

She sighed, finally tearing her gaze away from the ceiling. Her hand reached out to the side table, fingers brushing against the cool surface as she searched for her phone.

"Ugh, it’s late," Ellen muttered to herself, a mix of surprise and reluctance in her voice. It was well past her usual wake-up time. Normally, she would have been up hours ago, ready to start the day with drive and energy. But the party last night had left her feeling unusually drained, both physically and mentally. The thought of just sinking back into the comfortable bed and closing her eyes for a bit longer was incredibly tempting.

But then, a realization hit her. "This is Paris," she reminded herself, her voice barely above a whisper. How often did she get the chance to visit Paris? Certainly not often enough to justify spending the day in bed, no matter how much her body protested. With a groan, Ellen forced herself to sit up, pushing the covers away and letting the cool air of the room prick at her skin, urging her awake.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet meeting the soft, plush carpet. For a moment, she just sat there, her hands resting on her lap as she gathered the willpower to actually stand. Her body felt heavy, as if weighed down by the events of the previous night, but she knew she couldn’t let herself waste the day away.

After a quick shower, Ellen dressed in comfortable yet stylish clothes, something appropriate for a relaxed day. Just something to keep her occupied, something that would let her enjoy the city without feeling overwhelmed. A visit to a museum would be perfect.

For the next few hours, she allowed herself to be absorbed by the art and artifacts around her. But just as she was beginning to feel truly relaxed, her phone buzzed in her purse. Ellen hesitated for a moment, not wanting to break the peaceful spell she had wrapped herself in. But curiosity got the better of her, and she pulled out her phone, glancing at the screen.

It was a message from Philip.

Ellen’s heart skipped a beat as she opened it, her eyes quickly scanning the text. At first, she didn’t fully register the words, her mind still partially focused on the serene environment around her. But as the meaning of the message sank in, her eyes widened in shock.

She stuffed her phone back into her purse and quickly turned, almost stumbling in her haste to leave the gallery. She needed to get out of there, and fast.

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