As soon as Sebastian spoke, Christian ran over and wrapped his arms around Adele.
“Aunt, are you really going to stay with us for a few days? That’s awesome! I wish you were my mom. You could even teach me racing!”
The three of them, standing together like the perfect little family, made my chest ache.
Without a word, I turned and left the room. I hadn’t even made it far when there was a knock on my door.
Suppressing the irritation building inside me, I opened it.
“What do you want?”
My cold tone made Sebastian pause.
“I just want you to understand that Adele and I are just teacher and student. She has a rare talent for racing. I can’t just let that go to waste. I mean, I can’t exactly take you to the racetrack, can I? You don’t know the first thing about it. You’d just embarrass me.”
I didn’t expect him to come and explain himself. But I’d heard all of this before.
The very first time we argued about Adele, he said the same thing.
“You’re just a housewife. You wouldn’t understand the thrill of the race. Don’t twist our relationship with your dirty imagination.”
The memories hit like a thousand tiny bites, each one a sharp sting.
His words echoed in my mind like a broken record.
He reached for my hand, opened his mouth as if to say something.
But before he could speak, Adele’s voice rang out from the other room.
“Sebastian, this wedding dress is gorgeous! Can I have it? I want to wear it too!”
Polly's POV
“Sebastian, this wedding dress is stunning! Can I have it? I want to wear it too!” Adele’s voice rang out as she came bouncing down the stairs.
Sebastian didn’t even hesitate and said, “Polly, give the dress to Adele. She’s young and beautiful. She’ll look good in it. You, on the other hand, just shuffle around doing housework all day. You're already wrinkled face and out of shape, it won't suit you.”
Adele giggled sweetly. “You’re the best, Sebastian.”
That dress wasn’t just fabric to me. I’d spent five years designing and perfecting it for our wedding. Every stitch carried my love, my hope, my devotion. I couldn’t even blame Adele for liking it.
But when I looked at Sebastian through my tear-reddened eyes, his expression was cold.
“Don’t be stingy,” he said. “Just name your price.”
Five years of marriage built on servitude. Five years of being the live-in maid, whom no one respected. What was a wedding dress like that worth now?
Honestly, I didn’t care anymore.