Chapter 4

Miranda finally realized she was wearing a pale rose, body-hugging cocktail dress. The cinched design emphasized the gentle roundness of her waist and abdomen, which had not fully recovered after childbirth, and her bare arms and thighs were streaked with pale pink stretch marks. Because Dorian had applied a stretch mark cream she was allergic to, the marks were darkening and swelling, and the itching tore through her painfully. She could only force herself not to scratch, careful not to draw attention. The hushed whispers around her felt almost tangible, slipping into her ears and gnawing at her nerves. "God, that's Mrs. Cannon? She looks… awful." "Unbelievable. I heard pregnancy can make some women completely scatterbrained, and she's so out of it she can't even pick out a dress. If I were Mr. Cannon, I wouldn't want to be with her either. She can't compare to Joanna at all." "Of course she can't. Mr. Cannon spoils Joanna like crazy. He poured a billion dollars into helping her secure deals worth only a few hundred million dollars, just so she could be promoted to vice CEO, and he even threw her a celebration dinner after the losses!" Miranda tugged at the ill-fitting dress while standing among the guests and reporters, nearly crushed by shame. She wanted to leave, but Dorian gripped her arm tightly. "Don't make a scene. Today is Joanna's big night. She specially invited you and even picked this dress for you. I won't tolerate you acting out." "Let go! Dorian, she did this on purpose to humiliate me…" But no matter what she said, Dorian refused to release her. She didn't want to make a scene, so she let him lead her along as Joanna's backdrop. During the banquet, Dorian presented Joanna with three grand gifts. The first was 11% of Cannon Group's shares, conveniently 1% more than the 10% he had given Miranda as a wedding gift. The second was a top-tier jewelry set worth three million dollars from a major auction in Zuinson. Miranda had posted a picture of it on Instagram just days earlier, saying she loved it. The final gift was a promise. "I promise that from this day forward, within Cannon Group, Joanna and I will advance side by side and share every honor that comes with it." He gazed at her with deep, devoted affection. "From now on, your word is my word. Every employee at Cannon Group will follow your directives. Happy?" Joanna gasped in delighted surprise, then feigned hesitation. "That's too much… Miranda's going to be upset." But Dorian said, "It's fine. She handles the house, and you handle the company. It doesn't conflict." Miranda thought, "No conflict? What a joke." His blatant display of being involved with another woman while married made the guests and reporters exchange knowing glances. Their eyes shifted back to Miranda, dripping with ridicule. Even though each of them managed their own domain, running a small household could never compare to the vast empire of Cannon Group. Where Dorian's heart lay was painfully clear. Miranda stood there, her face deathly pale, enduring the piercing stares as if they were torture. She kept her eyes lowered and said nothing. Behind her back, her fingernails dug so hard into her palms that they left bloody crescents. Halfway through the banquet, Dorian escorted Joanna around to greet guests, while Miranda slipped away to a private lounge on the second floor to rest. Her rising fever and the relentless itching over her entire body left her utterly exhausted, and the moment she sank onto the couch, she nearly slipped into unconsciousness. Half-asleep, she thought she heard Dorian's voice, still as gentle and attentive as ever, wiping her forehead with a cool towel. "Why are you so sick? It really worries me." Having been cared for by him for years, Miranda instinctively leaned closer, but the next moment, she heard another voice break the moment. "Dorian, you really spoil her. I'm jealous." Dorian replied, "Don't be jealous… Take me instead." "Oh, stop it. Your wife is right next to you!" "It's fine. I checked earlier. She's sleeping soundly…" Before long, the rustle of fabric and Joanna's soft moans filled Miranda's ears. She felt trapped in a nightmare, desperately trying to open her eyes and scream, but she couldn't wake up. The torment lasted long enough that her body broke out in a cold sweat, nearly causing her to pass out, before Dorian finally reached satisfaction. He lifted Miranda into his arms, his voice light and casual. "Randa, let's go home." She thought, "Yes, I'm going home! But it's not going to be your home, Dorian!" Leaning against the familiar embrace, she caught a cloying, sweet scent—the same cheap perfume Joanna wore. Her stomach churned violently, nearly making her gag, and she struggled to whisper, "Dorian, I want to go back to the Doyle residence!" Dorian's footsteps froze immediately.