Chapter 5

FLORENCE’S POV

“What…”

I stared at Jade, my mind struggling to process what had just happened.

She didn’t know me?

She didn’t know me?

The words rattled in my head, loud and hollow, echoing off the walls of my skull.

Jade simply got up and left the studio with her entourage, leaving me standing there like I was nothing.

I should have followed her. Demanded an explanation. Asked why, after eight years, she was acting like I was a complete stranger.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I stood frozen, my feet glued to the messy, wire-and-tape-ridden floor. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

***

Later that evening, Blake suggested a team dinner at La Ritz downtown. A flashy, expensive place that I definitely couldn’t manage without Mason’s allowance. I still had a bit left on the debit card, and if I stuck to the cheap wine and appetizers, I’d be okay. 

I hadn’t been to a fancy restaurant in years—a weird confession for the wife of a billionaire to make. 

It felt nice. But I had a feeling the evening was going to go downhill. 

Blake leaned back in her chair, swirling the red wine in her glass before lifting it to toast the woman of the hour. “Here’s to Jade Thorne, the next big Hollywood starlet and the face of Urbanite!” 

“Gosh, stop it, Blake! I don’t even know if Hollywood is going to happen!” Jade responded, laughing. 

“Well… either way. You’ve got yourself a pretty sweet collaboration with Mason Whitehill!” she winked at Jade. 

I stiffened.

“I remember seeing you two at that gala,” Blake continued, tilting her head slightly. “You and Mason looked… close.”

The statement hung in the air like a carefully placed trap. Jade didn’t flinch. Instead, she smiled. A slow, knowing smile. The kind that confirmed every single suspicion I had been trying to ignore.

I think somewhere in her, Jade always knew I loved Mason. 

Even back in high school, Jade had this way of making sure I never forgot my place. It wasn’t cruel, not exactly. It was subtle, effortless, wrapped in the kind of charm that made people adore her.

“You know, Florence,” she would say, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, “Mason really likes a confident girl. Someone who keeps him on his toes.”

She didn’t say “not you,” but she didn’t have to.

Or at school dances, when Mason would pull her in for a dance, and she would look at me over his shoulder, eyes glinting, as if to say: See? He only sees me.

It was obvious… I was always the outsider. 

As if to drive the knife deeper, Jade’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen, and her expression shifted into something… smug.

She turned to Blake. “Mason just messaged. He’s interested in seeing the campaign and wants to stop by!” she said lightly. “He’ll be joining us for dinner.”

Of course, he would.

I could count on one hand the number of times Mason had responded to my messages. The times I’d waited, hoping for a callback, a sign that I still mattered even a little in his life. And yet, here he was—showing up for her.

I needed to leave.

I clutched my stomach. “I’m not feeling well,” I murmured. “I think it’s late—”

Before I could finish my excuse, the doors opened, and Mason walked in. And close behind him… was Chris. 

I hadn’t seen Chris in years. I’d heard he was now a big-time fashion photographer, always in demand. He would always click my pictures for photography class in middle and high school until he randomly moved to another state one day. 

Both men spotted me and stopped in their tracks, both for different reasons. I scanned Mason’s eyes for any signs of an apology or explanation. But, for the first time in forever, he looked genuinely caught off guard.

So instead of acknowledging him, I forced myself to look right through him as if he were just another guest in the restaurant. I smiled at Chris instead and waved politely. 

It was petty. And deeply satisfying.

Jade, of course, didn’t miss a beat. She got up and practically climbed up on Mason with her breathy voice and snake-like movements. “Mm, hello darling. Why’d you make me miss you so much?” 

Disgusted, I looked away. Our colleagues at the table, of course, were enamored by the model and the billionaire CEO being a potential hot item. 

Mason cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Jade and I are just old friends.”

Right… old friends climb up on each other like that! 

They took their seats, and I waited… waited for ONE mention of our shared past or of how we used to be inseparable friends. One acknowledgment from Mason that I was his wife. But for all their history, for everything I had gone through, it was like I wasn’t even there.

It was unbearable. The laughs, giggles, stolen glances, and “innocent” touches sent me further into a downward spiral. Jade had always been high-maintenance, but tonight? Tonight, she had perfected the art of casual cruelty.

“Florence, could you pass the salt?” she asked sweetly.

I reached for it.

“Actually, could you get me some extra napkins?” she added as I handed her the salt.

I did.

“Oh! And can you adjust my chair? It’s a little too close to the table.”

I did that too.

With every little favor, I felt myself shrinking back into the girl I used to be. The assistant. The helper. The afterthought. Jade didn’t need to insult me outright. She just effortlessly knew how to show me my place. 

But if I wanted to stay in Blake’s good books and keep this job… I had to comply. 

But then came the final blow—

She handed Mason a small piece of cake from her plate. “Try it,” she said, her voice filled with nostalgia.

Mason stared at the dessert for a long moment, lost in thought. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

“This reminds me of the cake you made for my 18th birthday,” he murmured.

My stomach churned. Jade never baked.

She was a rich girl, used to things being made for her. She wouldn’t put her perfectly manicured fingers anywhere near flour, eggs, and butter. I was the one who had spent the night baking that cake. And all I had hoped for in return was for Mason to acknowledge me. 

But he never did.

The suffocating weight of it all became too much.

I stood abruptly, and the table stopped their conversations to awkwardly look at me. 

“Um… just need the restroom,” I said. 

“Well… go on then, do you need permission?” Blake asked, laughing. 

The rest of the table snickered as I laid my napkin on the chair and bolted. Once safely inside, I let my tears go, finally feeling a release. I rested my head on the cold mirror, trying to catch my breath. 

Jade was alive. Mason was here with her. And I had become invisible in my own marriage.

I washed my face and just as I was grabbing a towel to dry it, I heard voices outside the restroom.

“I don’t want to be nosy,” Chris said, his tone low but firm. “But you need to stop flirting with Mason.”

Jade let out a soft laugh. “Oh, come on, Chris. It’s just harmless fun.”

“Harmless?” Chris scoffed. “I thought you and Florence were best friends.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then he added, “Or did you forget that Mason is already married?”