From Discarded Wife to Queen (Tyrone) novel Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Don’t Wait for Me

At seven that evening, Aella showed up at the restaurant.

Tyrone stood to pull out her chair, as gentlemanly as ever.

She sat quietly, watching as he ordered for them with his usual calm precision.

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He wore a black suit with a matching shirt–simple, elegant, and perfectly tailored. On anyone else, it might’ve looked stiff. On him, it just made him look more composed, more controlled.

Tyrone Winters had been groomed since birth to take over the family empire. He had the pedigree, the manners, the discipline–all the right polish in all the right places.

Aella had known him for twenty–five years. In all that time, she had never once heard him raise his voice or lose control.

Even with the waitstaff, he was unfailingly polite.

He was the kind of man who always had everything—and everyone—exactly where he wanted them.

Tyrone Winters was extraordinary.

But he married a woman he didn’t love.

Divorce was just a matter of time.

While they waited for the food, Tyrone set a small velvet box beside her hand. “Your anniversary gift,” he said simply.

Aella wrapped her fingers around her water glass, gave a small nod, and barely glanced at it.

She had loved Tyrone for twenty–two years. Married him for three.

No one knew better than she did that beneath all that polish and charm, his heart was cold as marble.

When she was younger, she used to pester him for presents. He’d eventually give in, annoyed but indulgent, and she’d spend days beaming over whatever trinket he gave her.

That was before her world fell apart. Before her family went bankrupt.

Her mother had reminded her back then that she was no longer an heiress–just an ordinary girl.

“Don’t forget your place,” she’d said. “You’re not his equal anymore.”

From that day on, Aella stopped asking for anything.

No tantrums. No begging.

And even though Tyrone didn’t love her, he kept up appearances.

Chapter 3 Don’t Wait for Me

Birthdays. Anniversaries. Valentine’s Day. Even Women’s Day. There was always a gift waiting.

Tonight was no different.

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Seeing that she wasn’t opening it, Tyrone unboxed it himself, revealing a diamond bracelet that sparkled under the soft restaurant light.

One look told her it was worth at least seven figures.

He reached for her left hand, his long fingers curling around hers as he tried to slip it on.

Aella instinctively pulled back.

Tyrone’s grip tightened slightly. His eyes studied her, sharp and steady.

“You don’t like it?”

There was a time when a five–dollar hair tie from him could make her smile for days.

Now, a diamond bracelet barely earned a glance.

“It’s fine,” she murmured.

Tyrone fastened it around her wrist anyway. “It looks beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He frowned.

When she was a kid, she’d followed him around everywhere, always wanting something–his time, his attention, anything. And she’d always taken whatever he gave her without hesitation.

Now, after three years of marriage, she was suddenly… polite.

He figured it must be because of Zera. He had forgotten their anniversary, after all. She was probably still

mad.

Tyrone picked up his utensils and passed her the dessert plate. “Your favorite. Chocolate truffles.”

Aella stared at them, then looked up at him. “If I wanted something you made yourself, would you do it for me?”

Tyrone cut into his steak with calm precision. “Everyone has their strengths,” he said evenly. “The chefs here could make it better than I ever could. Whatever you want, just buy it. Don’t worry about the money.”

Aella dropped her gaze to hide the sting.

Everyone has their strengths. That was his answer.

Yet he’d baked a blueberry cake for his first love–and her son. Even posted it online, like some teenage boy in love.

Chapter 3 Don’t Wait for Me

For her, though? He couldn’t be bothered to learn one recipe.

The difference between being loved and not being loved had never felt clearer.

She forced herself to take a bite of the truffle.

It tasted bitter. Hard to swallow.

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She frowned but swallowed anyway. The bitterness clung to her tongue, heavy and sharp, just like the ache in her chest.

She didn’t speak again.

Tyrone ate quietly, neatly, every motion practiced. The soft clink of silverware was the only sound between them.

He looked up after a while, uneasy.

When she was younger, she could never sit still during a meal. She’d talk nonstop, laugh too loud, even try to climb into his lap.

Once, he’d joked that she probably had ADHD.

Even when she was mad, she was noisy about it–pouting, crying, yelling.

But never like this. Never so quiet.

He tugged at his collar. Something felt off.

Then his phone lit up.

He glanced at the screen and locked it.

A minute later, it buzzed again.

He declined the call and reached for the juice to refill her glass.

Before he could finish, the phone started buzzing a third time.

Their

eyes met.

Tyrone’s expression darkened.

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