(Patrick's POV)The sun dipped low as I stood by the balcony door of the hotel suite, a wind in Miami's air brushing my face with whispers of destiny. I barely slept in the last two nights, and Giselle's silence was becoming too deafening. I checked my phone again, trying hard to call hers. Still busy.Becky had been quiet all morning. Too quiet. And I was too distracted to realize it. I just needed to hear Giselle, see her, know that she was alive."Patrick," my mother had tried to say a little while ago, trying to deflect the subject, "Becky's issue. she needs your help.""She needs my help because she fell trying to get my phone," I had answered, my voice colder than I intended it to be.Becky hadn't spoken to me since. And I hadn't spoken to her. I couldn't pretend, not with everything unraveling inside me.My ringing phone jolted me out of sleep. It was Debbie."Hey, Debbie," I said, already sensing the panic in her voice."Patrick, please. I need you to drive me to the contestan
(Patrick's POV)Sunlight fought with the thick cream curtains over the hotel window. I leaned against the window, phone and coffee in hand. Nothing. No call. No missed call. Still nothing from Giselle. The silence shattered as oppressive as ever, weighing on my chest like a boulder.Becky slept on the couch in the living room. She had insisted on being near me, but I had not been talkative with her. I had not been capable of fighting or of explaining. My mind was with Giselle—her vanishing, uncertainty, question marks that fill every moment of consciousness.I flipped through my album, where I stopped on a picture of Giselle taken at her last public appearance. She had worn that stunning blue dress, the one that shimmered as moonlight on rippling water. I remembered her laughter that evening, how it stayed in my head even when the paparazzi had stopped snapping pictures.A knock at the door broke my concentration. I opened it to Clara, my assistant, who stood in the doorway with a fol
(Giselle's POV)I was wide awake. The hotel room was too quiet, too quiet for the chaos of thoughts churning in my brain. The ceiling fan creaked pointlessly above me, creating shadow performances on the cream-colored walls. I flipped onto my side, the silk sheets sticking, and stared at the bright face of my phone. No message. No call.Patrick hadn't called in days.I was predestined to be consumed by the Miss World pageant of beauty—the repetitious rehearsal runs, dress fittings, and television spots. I was the face everyone longed to see, the name on every billboard, the woman who had it all. It was all only illusion for me today, though, a sparkly diversion from hurt set on clinging.I winced and sat up, wrapping a robe around me. The door to the balcony was ajar, and the smell of sea breeze wafted in. I went out barefoot, arms wrapped around myself as cold tiles tiptoed across my toes. Miami city lights glowed far away, a city of dreams and deception."Why are you doing this, Pat
(Giselle's POV)I was wide awake. The hotel room was too quiet, too quiet for the chaos of thoughts churning in my brain. The ceiling fan creaked pointlessly above me, creating shadow performances on the cream-colored walls. I flipped onto my side, the silk sheets sticking, and stared at the bright face of my phone. No message. No call.Patrick hadn't called in days.I was predestined to be consumed by the Miss World pageant of beauty—the repetitious rehearsal runs, dress fittings, and television spots. I was the face everyone longed to see, the name on every billboard, the woman who had it all. It was all only illusion for me today, though, a sparkly diversion from hurt set on clinging.I winced and sat up, wrapping a robe around me. The door to the balcony was ajar, and the smell of sea breeze wafted in. I went out barefoot, arms wrapped around myself as cold tiles tiptoed acros
Giselle's POV The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air as I sat on the hospital bed, my heart racing with anticipation. The doctor had just walked in, her kind eyes crinkling as she glanced at the file in her hands. "Congratulations, Mrs. Giselle," she said warmly, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts. "You're pregnant." Pregnant. The word echoed in my mind, a mix of disbelief and excitement surging through me. I stared at her, my breath caught in my chest. "I'm pregnant?" I whispered, my hand instinctively moving to my stomach. "Yes," the doctor confirmed with a smile. "About seven weeks along. Make sure you get plenty of rest, eat well, and avoid stress. It's crucial for both you and the baby." I nodded, my hand still resting on my stomach, where a tiny life was beginning to grow. A rush of emotions overwhelmed me—joy, disbelief, and a deep longing to share this moment with Patrick, my husband. "I didn’t think it was possible," I murmured, my voice barely audible. T
Giselle's POV“Well,” the doctor said cheerfully, “she’s two months along, and the baby is doing great.”Two months.Two. Months.I froze, the heartbreak of the revelation crashing down on me like a tidal wave. Becky wasn’t just pregnant, she had been pregnant long before I found out about my own child.“Two months,” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible.I stared at the ceiling, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place in my mind. Patrick had been lying to me for weeks, if not months. Every late-night meeting, every business trip, every excuse—it had all been a cover for his affair with Becky.I swallowed the sob threatening to escape and forced myself to stay silent.Patrick Hilton, my husband, wasn’t just cheating on me. He had gotten her pregnant, too.I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I could do was lie there, my world crumbling around me as I listened to the man I loved play the role of doting father-to-be for another woman.I clenched my fists, my nails dig
Giselle’s POV“Nothing,” Patrick said quickly, though his tone was uncertain.A single tear slid down my cheek as I stared at the phone lying beside me. l pick up my phone with my pulse and head back homeBack at Hilton's mansion, I was in my bedroom on the call with My brother Nicholas. I pressed my phone against my ear, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. “Nicky, you have to trust me. Okay? I know what I’m doing.”Nicholas’ tone was sharp, his concern palpable even through the phone. “Why are you back at the Hilton’s place afterPatrick sent you those vile text messages? Gigi, this is insane!”“I just have to look at his face,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “I need to look into his eyes and hear it from him. I know you're hurt. Confirming him like that will not gain you anything. Clearly, he has cheated on you. Gigi, please come back home.“I can’t,” I said firmly, my hands trembling as I gripped the phone tighter. “Not until I know the truth.
Giselle's POVThe glass of whiskey she had been holding tipped forward, its contents splashing all over her pristine white dress.“Oh, my dress!” she shrieked, her voice carrying through the room like nails on a chalkboard. Heads turned, and suddenly all eyes were on us.I blinked, trying to process what had just happened. The woman was tall, impeccably dressed, and radiated an air of self-importance that could rival my mother-in-law’s. Her sharp, accusing eyes bore into me as she clutched her now-ruined dress.“Watch where you’re going, maid!” she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain.Maid?Her words cut through the fog in my mind like a knife. Slowly, the shock of the moment gave way to anger. I straightened, meeting her glare with one of my own.“You did that yourself,” I said, my voice steady but cold. I gestured to the whiskey dripping down her dress. “You bumped into me. I'm Patrick's wife and not a maid.The woman's stunned expression only lasted for a moment before another
(Giselle's POV)I was wide awake. The hotel room was too quiet, too quiet for the chaos of thoughts churning in my brain. The ceiling fan creaked pointlessly above me, creating shadow performances on the cream-colored walls. I flipped onto my side, the silk sheets sticking, and stared at the bright face of my phone. No message. No call.Patrick hadn't called in days.I was predestined to be consumed by the Miss World pageant of beauty—the repetitious rehearsal runs, dress fittings, and television spots. I was the face everyone longed to see, the name on every billboard, the woman who had it all. It was all only illusion for me today, though, a sparkly diversion from hurt set on clinging.I winced and sat up, wrapping a robe around me. The door to the balcony was ajar, and the smell of sea breeze wafted in. I went out barefoot, arms wrapped around myself as cold tiles tiptoed acros
(Giselle's POV)I was wide awake. The hotel room was too quiet, too quiet for the chaos of thoughts churning in my brain. The ceiling fan creaked pointlessly above me, creating shadow performances on the cream-colored walls. I flipped onto my side, the silk sheets sticking, and stared at the bright face of my phone. No message. No call.Patrick hadn't called in days.I was predestined to be consumed by the Miss World pageant of beauty—the repetitious rehearsal runs, dress fittings, and television spots. I was the face everyone longed to see, the name on every billboard, the woman who had it all. It was all only illusion for me today, though, a sparkly diversion from hurt set on clinging.I winced and sat up, wrapping a robe around me. The door to the balcony was ajar, and the smell of sea breeze wafted in. I went out barefoot, arms wrapped around myself as cold tiles tiptoed across my toes. Miami city lights glowed far away, a city of dreams and deception."Why are you doing this, Pat
(Patrick's POV)Sunlight fought with the thick cream curtains over the hotel window. I leaned against the window, phone and coffee in hand. Nothing. No call. No missed call. Still nothing from Giselle. The silence shattered as oppressive as ever, weighing on my chest like a boulder.Becky slept on the couch in the living room. She had insisted on being near me, but I had not been talkative with her. I had not been capable of fighting or of explaining. My mind was with Giselle—her vanishing, uncertainty, question marks that fill every moment of consciousness.I flipped through my album, where I stopped on a picture of Giselle taken at her last public appearance. She had worn that stunning blue dress, the one that shimmered as moonlight on rippling water. I remembered her laughter that evening, how it stayed in my head even when the paparazzi had stopped snapping pictures.A knock at the door broke my concentration. I opened it to Clara, my assistant, who stood in the doorway with a fol
(Patrick's POV)The sun dipped low as I stood by the balcony door of the hotel suite, a wind in Miami's air brushing my face with whispers of destiny. I barely slept in the last two nights, and Giselle's silence was becoming too deafening. I checked my phone again, trying hard to call hers. Still busy.Becky had been quiet all morning. Too quiet. And I was too distracted to realize it. I just needed to hear Giselle, see her, know that she was alive."Patrick," my mother had tried to say a little while ago, trying to deflect the subject, "Becky's issue. she needs your help.""She needs my help because she fell trying to get my phone," I had answered, my voice colder than I intended it to be.Becky hadn't spoken to me since. And I hadn't spoken to her. I couldn't pretend, not with everything unraveling inside me.My ringing phone jolted me out of sleep. It was Debbie."Hey, Debbie," I said, already sensing the panic in her voice."Patrick, please. I need you to drive me to the contestan
Giselle's POVMy silence and Patrick's lingered behind us once we'd spoken. Not the type that creeps up and skinnies and tickles with anxiety, but instead a dense variety, filled by both parties and left untouched due to neither wishing to add any more bulk into the world. I had plopped on the couch, wrapped my legs tightly into my center, soft light from the lamp in the room casting limp shadow on the ceiling.He hadn't pushed. He hadn't insisted. That alone was reassuring and unnerving. Patrick was the one who always stepped back when I stepped back, and for some reason that always made me feel safer with him. But tonight I had wished he would have insisted—wished he would have pushed me to tell him everything I had kept locked inside.Because the truth was choking me.Victor had called me again.I didn't reply. I couldn't. His final message he ever sent just lingered in my inbox, unread: "You'll never be safe without me."He was right, at least—everything had felt unreal. Because I
Patrick's POVThe pounding waves on the beach was the raw, distant sound of the thunder. I was standing in front of the balcony of the suite, looking out over the ocean. The sky was a darker blue with an orange tint to it as the sun started to set. The peace of what I was seeing was such a contrast to the storm that raged inside of me.I had hoped that time would mend the gap between me and Giselle. But distance and silence could not remove the pain, the disillusion, or the deceptions that had built up between us. I had hoped that if I came here, if I was merely there, I could mend everything.But even then, after I'd made the reconciliation gesture, part of me was like walking on glass.I hadn't spoken to Giselle in reality since we'd talked on the beach. She'd retreated again into her silence, and this wall was there between us. One I wasn't sure I could climb.The ring of my phone reminded me of what was real. It was Grace on the phone."Patrick," her voice grated across the phone.
Giselle's POVThe ocean breeze swept over my hotel room floor-to-ceiling sheer flowing curtains, stroking my skin with the softness of silk. I was standing at the glass, arms crossed, looking out toward the horizon where the sky was dancing with the waves. Miami was another type of wildness—noisy and restive. But I was weary of twinkly lights and further cacophony of applause.My phone went quiet once more. No calls. No texts. Patrick hadn't called or texted me since that strange message he'd sent two nights before—the one where his voice broke, like he was holding something fragile and already letting it go.I wrapped my robe more securely around me and went to the dresser. My hair smelled of vanilla and gardenias, my skin still warm from the bath I'd indulged in a little while ago. Today was meant to be peaceful, but this ache was in my breast. As if something was waking up, something was moving. and I wasn't prepared."Ma'am," one of my guards knocked on the door, entering. "Miss G
Giselle's POVI couldn't breathe.Not because my practice corset was too tight—though it was stuck to me like a vice—because the dressing room walls kept closing in with every untexted moment, every unspoken one, every time I blinked and Patrick's face flashed before me in the darkness.He was there for me.I knew the moment he walked into the lobby. My father had eyes and ears everywhere, but even if he hadn't, I would have known. The air around me shifted. My heart shifted. My phone was in off mode when Becky called me, crying, accusingly, bewildered. I did not need the explanations. Not yet. My world had swerved too far from its axis. I had wished for silence to put it on a straight axis once more.But silence was treacherous. It betrayed things into me I did not want to know."Giselle," my assistant Sarah had called at the door. "Five minutes before last rehearsal. Ready?" "Coming," I had replied, rising from the velvet couch and regarding myself in the mirror.The woman in th
Patrick's POVI couldn't sleep.I reclined on the hotel bed looking up at the ceiling fan, its soft whirring mingling with the hum in my head. I was in Miami but felt more distant from all I ever knew. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows with dance motions on the wall. My phone was silent, face down on the nightstand.Giselle had yet to call me back.I rolled over on my side, pulling the comforter up over my chest like it could shield me from the shame crawling all over my body. Why wasn't she answering? Why wasn't her number still open? Dozens of questions ran through my mind—had something happened to her? Or was she just. done with me?Becky's face remembered, scowling in anger when she pilfered my phone from off my person earlier. How she crumpled. The terror in the shriek she let out. The crying, the trembling of her hands laid over her belly. And I? I had taken a step back. Like a coward.I groaned and sat up straight, running my hand through my hair. I needed some air