Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Rigella’s POV
I opened my eyes as sunlight streamed through the window. Blinking a few times, I glanced at the wall clock—and my eyes widened. It was already nine in the morning.
We had slept here, in the guest room of my parents’ estate.
When I sat up, a wave of heat flushed across my cheeks—I realized I had nothing on.
Was… was last night real?
I sighed and blinked hard. This is who I am. I gave in so easily. Ivan only touched me because he was drunk last night. So why did I let it happen? Why did I surrender so quickly?
I turned to look at Ivan, who was still fast asleep. His face was peaceful, gentle even. I preferred watching him like this. When he was awake, his expression was always firm, stern—even intimidating. He rarely smiled.
I sighed again and wrapped myself in a blanket. Quietly, I walked to the cabinet, pulled out some clothes and a towel, and went into the bathroom. I folded the blanket neatly and hung the towel and clothes on the rack.
As I turned on the shower, last night’s memory flashed in my mind—not once, but three times. My cheeks turned crimson again.
God… I gave up that easily? Why am I so weak when it comes to him?
When I came out of the bathroom, freshly bathed and dressed, Ivan was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me intently. I swallowed hard and looked away, pretending not to notice.
I took the hair blower from the drawer, plugged it in, and began drying my hair in front of the mirror. Ivan sighed, then stood and went to the bathroom.
As I combed my hair, something on my neck caught my eye—and my eyes widened. A hickey.
Panicking, I grabbed the concealer and quickly covered it up.
Thank God I saw it before anyone else did.
Once I’d finished with my skincare and makeup—something I was used to doing daily—I heard the bathroom door open. Ivan had finished bathing.
I turned as I sneezed, only to find him looking at me again. He was wearing only a shirt, his toned arms fully visible. He gave me a strange look for a moment, then averted his gaze.
Wait… did he just stammer, “All right”?
Did he seriously just stutter?
I shook my head and left the room with a deep breath. A maid greeted me in the hallway with a warm smile.
“Good morning, Ma’am Ella.”
I smiled back. “Good morning, too. Where’s Ice?”
“Madame Anette woke up early and bathed him. They’re in the farthest room.”
I nodded and headed down the hall. When I stepped inside, I smiled—Mom was helping Ice get dressed.
As soon as Ice saw me, his face lit up. He ran and hugged my waist.
“Good morning, Mom!”
“Good morning, son,” I said, returning his hug. “Have you had breakfast yet?”
He didn’t answer and instead looked at Mom. I turned to her too.
Mom chuckled and approached.
“That boy hasn’t eaten yet. He said he wants to eat breakfast with you and Ivan, so he waited. He’s been up for a while, but he wouldn’t eat.”
I smiled at Ice and pinched his nose.
“You’re so sweet, but next time, don’t wait too long. You’ll get hungry.”
“Yes, Mom,” he replied with a nod.
Then Mom sneezed, and I turned to her, confused by the teasing smile she wore.
Her next words made my face burn.
“Next time, son, don’t make Ivan too tired so he won’t sleep in.”
“Ma!” I gasped, cheeks flaming, as I turned to Ice and frowned.
Mom just laughed and whispered, “I want another grandchild.”
I groaned and quickly went downstairs.
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When we reached the kitchen, Ivan was already seated, reading the newspaper, but hadn’t touched the food on his plate.
Mom left to water her plants in the garden, saying she wanted to say goodbye before going out.
Ice and I sat together. I placed some fried rice and bacon on his plate—his favorite—and then filled my own plate. Ivan set the newspaper down, smiled at Ice, and said, “Good morning, son.”
“Good morning, Dad!” Ice replied with a big grin.
Thankfully, my son could eat by himself. I started eating too. Ivan smiled faintly as we ate.
A few minutes later, my phone rang.
I pulled it from my pocket. It was an unknown number.
“Hello?” I answered.
Ivan glanced at me, arching an eyebrow.
“Rigella, it’s Seymour,” came the voice on the other end. “I called earlier, but your husband picked up. He even insulted me.”
He sounded amused.
I looked down. “Tsk. Why did you call?”
“Hala! You forgot already?” he replied, sounding sulky. “We’re meeting the fashion designer today, remember?”
I slapped my forehead. “Oh, right! Sorry. Where should we meet?”
“I’ll just pick you up around 4:00 p.m. I still have a project to finish. Just text me your address.”
“You sure?” I asked. “You’ll come pick me up?”
He chuckled. “Of course, Cupcake. But I’m warning you—your husband might beat me up.”
“What?” I gasped, flustered. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll be ready.”
“Okay, Cookie Monster. Bye!”
“Don’t call me that!” I laughed. “Bye, Cupcake.”
I ended the call, and when I looked up, Ivan was glaring.
He tried to look unaffected, but the scowl on his face gave him away.
Then another phone rang—it wasn’t mine. It was Ivan’s ringtone. He stood, grabbed his phone, and walked out of the kitchen.
Curious, I followed him quietly.
He stepped onto the terrace and sat on the sofa. I crouched behind the wall, just out of sight.
“We won’t be meeting today, babe,” I heard him say on the phone. “I’ve got an important meeting. I was doing paperwork last night, that’s why I didn’t answer your calls.”
My chest tightened.
“What? No. Rigella isn’t a problem, so let’s not argue about her, please. Yes, babe… Don’t worry, you’re the only one I love. You know I can’t do it now, but soon, I’ll marry you. Yes… Okay, babe. I love you. Bye.”
Tears slipped down my cheek.
Lara.
It’s still her.
And he still doesn’t love me.