I Made His Wife’s Dress Now I’ll Marry Another Chapter 18
The soup bowl slipped from Sabine’s hands and shattered on the floor.
Porcelain and broth splashed across the ivory coat, a stain no one could hide anymore.
“Mom, you’re confused from being sick.” Her voice sharpened, trembling. “How could Leo not be—”
“The day after Clara left, Adrian came to see me,” my mother said. “He told me he had never touched you. He couldn’t find the truth and he had no proof, but he asked me to believe him.”
Adrian looked up sharply. “You never told me you believed me.”
“And what use would that have been?” My mother closed her eyes for a moment. “You had already chosen to marry her. Clara had already left.”
Sabine reached for Adrian’s sleeve.
For the first time, he moved away from her.
It was a small movement.
More cruel than any rebuke.
I looked at them both and felt none of the satisfaction I had once imagined. The truth had come too late, like a winter coat delivered after the season had passed—intact, expensive, and useless to the person who had needed warmth at the time.