After the Last Tear: Rising from the Ashes of a Broken Marriage novel Chapter 64

I never expected Nina to come looking for me.

The restaurant was crowded that evening, the warm glow of the overhead lights casting soft reflections on the polished wooden tables. I barely looked at her when I set down the dish, just another customer in the endless stream of faces I served every day.

"Enjoy your meal," I said, the words automatic, practiced.

But then—she spoke.

"You're Cecilia?"

The way she said my name sent a slow chill through me.

I turned my head, finally meeting her gaze.

She was watching me, appraising me like I was something cheap on a store shelf, something barely worth a glance, let alone her attention. Her perfectly manicured fingers toyed with the stem of her wine glass, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

Then, she let out a soft laugh—sharp, disdainful.

"Do you even have more than a hundred dollars on you right now?" Her voice dripped with mockery. "Where the hell did you crawl out from, huh?"

I didn't react.

I just looked at her, my expression giving nothing away.

She smirked, tapping a nail against the glass. "Two years by Pax's side. You must be good at playing your cards."

"But tell me—do you even know who he really is?"

I tilted my head slightly. "And if I do?"

Nina scoffed. "Then I'd say you're dumber than you look."

Pax family's youngest son, their golden boy. The one who had been spoiled, adored, shielded from the real world his entire life.

Her gaze flickered with amusement, as if she could already see the cracks forming beneath my calm.

"You don't belong in his world." She leaned forward slightly, voice lowering into something almost gentle. "Be smart about this. Pack your things and leave."

I held my ground. "Or what?"

Her smile widened, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Or you'll stick around just long enough to be discarded. And trust me, that won't be pretty."

I said nothing.

Because, really—what was there to say?

Instead, I turned on my heel, ready to walk away.

Pax.

He pushed past me without hesitation, kneeling beside her.

His brows were drawn together, jaw tight with concern. His hand reached out, gently brushing against her leg.

There was a shallow cut on her calf, barely noticeable against her pale skin. It was just a scrape—so small that if he had arrived a minute later it would have healed.

But Nina gasped, face twisting as if she had been grievously wounded.

"It hurts…" she whimpered.

How absurd.

And yet—Pax looked at her as though she were bleeding out in his arms.

Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to mine.

Cold. Unforgiving.

His voice was quiet, but razor-sharp.

"Why did you push her?"