Painted Lies

Donovan’s sharp gaze swept over the smeared, dripping clothing of the three women. He deduced the chaotic clash that had just unfolded in his living room. He ignored Miriam’s shrieking accusations. His long legs carried him past his mother and Roxanne, closing the distance to Valerie without a second glance at the messy floor.

Valerie stood her ground, watching calmly as the tall man stopped right in front of her. He reached out, his large hand plucking a piece of tissue from the nearby box. With unexpected gentleness, he began wiping a stray speck of dirty paint from her cheek. His eyes remained locked on her face, tracing the curve of her jaw as he cleaned her skin.

Donovan finally spoke, his deep voice carrying a chilling dismissal aimed directly at his mother. "I did not ask you to stay with her. You do not have to come to my house unless there is important business."

Miriam gasped. Her face flushed crimson beneath the layer of muddy water. Her chest heaved in mortification. Since when did her son and this wretched woman become so close? Their mother-and-son relationship had always been strictly professional, but Donovan had never disrespected her or confronted her bluntly for an outsider. A single sentence laid bare how much his attitude toward Valerie had shifted. He was choosing his wife over his own mother.

Roxanne stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with desperate anticipation. She forced a sweet, melodic tone, though she hardly dared to meet his dark, intimidating stare. "It has been a long time, Donovan. How have you been?"

Years ago, they had been on the verge of marriage. Roxanne had spent every waking moment since harboring a bitter resentment. She remained convinced that Valerie had stolen her rightful place by his side. She waited for him to look at her, hoping the sight of her ruined dress would spark some protective instinct.

Donovan did not even glance in her direction. His face hardened into a fierce scowl as he turned his head slightly toward the door. "Leander, send Mrs. Whitmore off."

The heavy air in the living room froze. The sweet smile on Roxanne’s face shattered into a dozen pieces. Her outstretched hand hung awkwardly in the empty space between them. Jealousy clawed at her throat as she witnessed Donovan’s display of affection toward Valerie. What trick did this pathetic woman use to captivate him?

Leander stepped out from the hallway shadows, maintaining a stiff, professional posture. "Mrs. Whitmore, Ms. Sinclair, this way, please."

The assistant’s blunt attempt to chase them out the door made the tension suffocating. Miriam realized with a jolt that Donovan was drawing a harsh, unforgiving line between them. Furious and humiliated, Miriam convinced herself that Donovan had lost his mind. Valerie must have cast some kind of spell over him to make him act this way.

Miriam planted her feet firmly on the ruined marble floor, refusing to retreat. She barked her next words like an order. "Donovan, do not fall for her innocent look. She is not as good as you think she is."

Valerie narrowed her dark eyes, a cynical smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. She waited silently, eager to hear whatever ridiculous lies the older woman would spit out next.

Donovan ignored the outburst. He continued wiping away the paint residue on Valerie's skin. His intense gaze remained fixed on her beautiful features, acting as though Miriam did not exist in the same room. He treated the outside noise as nothing more than a passing nuisance.

Being dismissed twice pushed Miriam over the edge. She bet her son had no idea how wicked this woman truly was. He was a notorious clean freak. If he knew how dirty Valerie was, he would throw her out on the street tonight.

Charged with a sudden burst of self-righteous justice, Miriam hurled her condemnation loud and clear. "Donovan, here is a word of advice for you as your mother. That woman was at some hotel the night before you returned. She was even wearing that man's shirt when she came back to this house!"

She expected Donovan to be repulsed and banish Valerie from the Whitmore family. In her eyes, a sleazy woman like Valerie would never be worthy of standing beside the heir to the Whitmore empire. He needed a wife who could expand the family business, someone from an established background who had loved him for years. Someone exactly like Roxanne. Once Valerie was gone, everything would return to its rightful order.

Roxanne chimed in, painting a mask of deep worry across her face as she turned her sights onto her rival. "Donovan, you are an exceptional man. Why did you even choose to be with a filthy woman like her? Valerie, if you really love Donovan, you should let him go so he can marry someone more suited to him."

Valerie almost rolled her eyes at the pathetic display. The fake sympathy was nauseating. Roxanne acted as if she were delivering lines on a movie set.

Instead of arguing, Valerie took a deliberate step forward. She closed the tiny gap between herself and Donovan. With calculated precision, she pressed her soft curves flush against his hard, broad chest. She tilted her head back, locking onto his dark eyes with a bold, beguiling stare. A dangerous, seductive smile curved her lips as she leaned her weight into his embrace, weaponizing their physical intimacy to mock the two seething women.

"Since I am a filthy woman, you should just find someone else."