Chapter 105 The Other Man
The front door of the manor closed behind him with a soft thud.
Dorian stood in the dark hallway, the silence pressing against his ears. The house was quiet. The servants had retired. Only the faint hum of the refrigerator broke the stillness.
He had not expected to be home this early. The gala had been a waste of time. The photograph from Wesley Wynn had been the final push. He had left before the auction even started.
He loosened his tie. The satin was cool against his fingers.
He walked toward the stairs.
A sound came from the living room. Soft footsteps and then the rustle of fabric.
He turned around and Veyra was standing in the doorway.
She looked tired. Her hair was slightly disheveled. Her dress was the same one she had worn earlier. Her gloved hands hung at her sides.
She blinked when she saw him.
"You’re home early," she said.
"So are you."
She shrugged. "The meeting ended. I came back."
Dorian studied her face. There was nothing in her expression to suggest anything unusual. No guilt. No nervousness. Just the quiet exhaustion of a long day.
He wanted to ask her about the meeting. About Xavier Lala. About the photograph.
He did not.
"Goodnight," he said.
He walked past her and climbed the stairs.
The study was dark.
Dorian did not turn on the light. He walked to the window and stood there, staring out at the dark garden. The moon was hidden behind clouds. The trees were still.
He pulled out his phone. He scrolled to Leon Wei’s number.
"Come to the study," he said. "Now."
He hung up.
He did not sit. He stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting.
A few minutes later, the door opened.
Leon Wei stepped inside. His face was calm and very professional.
"Sir. You wanted to see me?"
Dorian turned. His eyes were cold.
"Tell me about Veyra’s day."
Leon’s expression did not change. He had expected this question.
"She went to Bordeaux. For a business meeting. A partnership discussion."
"With whom?"
"A man named Xavier Lala."
Dorian’s jaw tightened. "I know who he is."
Leon nodded. "The meeting went well. She chose him as her partner."
Dorian was silent for a moment.
"What else?"
"Before the meeting, she encountered Caspian Thorne and Xiomara. There was an incident on the second floor. Xiomara shoved a janitor and Ma’am Veyra intervened."
Dorian’s eyes narrowed.
"A janitor?"
"Harold Hudson. He’s been working at Bordeaux for years. Xiomara mistook him for Grace. When she realized her mistake, she shoved him. Ma’am Veyra caught him before he fell."
Dorian’s hand tightened on his phone.
"Was anyone hurt?"
"No. Ma’am Veyra sent the janitor home. She threatened to call the police if Caspian and Xiomara didn’t leave. They left."
Dorian was silent.
Leon hesitated. "Sir, I have footage. The surveillance footage from Bordeaux. I can send it to you."
"Send it."
Leon pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen. A moment later, Dorian’s phone buzzed.
He opened the video.
The footage was clear. The lighting was good. The angle captured the private dining room entrance.
He watched Xiomara shove the old man. He watched Veyra catch him. He watched her threaten Xiomara. He watched Caspian drag Xiomara away.
Then the footage shifted. Xavier Lala appeared in the hallway. He spoke to Caspian. He blocked his path. He did not back down.
Dorian’s grip on the phone tightened.
He watched Xavier walk into the private room. He watched Veyra sit across from him. He watched them talk.
He could not hear what they were saying. But he could see the way Xavier looked at her.
The admiration in his eyes. The focus. The intensity.
Dorian’s stomach tightened.
He watched Xavier reach into his pocket and pull out money. He watched Veyra stand up. He watched her slap him.
Dorian’s eyebrows rose.
Then Xavier called security. He was calm. Controlled. He did not retaliate.
Then Veyra pulled out her phone. She made a call. The security guards left.
Xavier stared at her. His face was pale. His hand was still on his phone.
Then Veyra smiled.
Dorian’s chest tightened.
He set the phone down on the desk.
His hands were shaking.
He did not understand why. He had no claim on her. Their marriage was a contract. A transaction. She was free to build her own life. Free to choose her own partners.
But the way Xavier Lala looked at her, the way she looked back—
He pressed his palms flat against the desk.
He thought about the baby. The child she was carrying. His child.
That was why he was upset. That was the only reason.
He was not jealous. He was not possessive. He was simply concerned about the well-being of his unborn child.
His jaw tightened.
He repeated the words in his head. Like a mantra.
I’m upset because she’s carrying my child. Because she’s interacting with another man while carrying my child.
He shook his head and it was not because I have feelings for her.
The thought was absurd.
He did not have feelings for her.
He could not.