Rise of The Abandoned Husband (Liam Knight) novel Chapter 14
Chapter 14: Chapter 14 – A Lady’s Shield, A Rival’s Threat
The boutique’s lighting cast a soft glow over the collection of high-end suits as Isabelle guided me through the racks. Her fingers trailed over fabrics worth more than my monthly rent.
“This one,” she said, pulling out a charcoal-gray suit with subtle blue undertones. “It’ll bring out your eyes.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Isabelle, I can’t possibly afford—”
“It’s a gift,” she cut me off, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Tonight is important. The Ashworth family banquet will have every influential person in Havenwood City in attendance.”
My throat tightened. After yesterday’s confrontation at the Sterling mansion, the thought of facing Seraphina in such a public setting made my stomach churn.
“Don’t look so terrified,” Isabelle said, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’ll be fine. You’re with me, after all.”
The changing room was larger than my bathroom at home. As I slipped into the suit, I barely recognized the man in the mirror. Gone was the slouched, defeated servant of the Sterling family. The fabric hugged my frame perfectly, emphasizing shoulders that had grown broader since I’d begun training.
When I emerged, Isabelle’s eyes widened slightly. She circled me once, her gaze appraising.
“Much better than I expected,” she murmured, adjusting my lapel. Her fingers brushed against my chest, sending an electric current through me.
“Will I… fit in?” I asked hesitantly.
Her eyes met mine. “No,” she said bluntly. “But you won’t embarrass me either.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her honesty. “Fair enough.”
Later that evening, the Ashworth family’s newly acquired manor loomed before us, its limestone facade glowing under strategically placed lights. Valets rushed to take keys from arriving luxury vehicles while photographers snapped pictures of Havenwood’s elite.
“Remember,” Isabelle said as our car pulled up, “you’re not just attending. We’re hosting this together.”
My head snapped toward her. “We’re what?”
She didn’t respond, simply sliding out as the door opened, cameras immediately flashing in recognition of the Ashworth princess. I followed, trying to appear more confident than I felt.
The grand ballroom was a symphony of wealth – crystal chandeliers, marble floors, waiters carrying trays of champagne worth more than I used to earn in a week.
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“Ms. Ashworth,” a gray-haired man approached, “your family has outdone themselves. This manor is exquisite.”
“Thank you, Mayor Richards,” Isabelle replied smoothly. “May I introduce Liam Knight? He’s my personal guest tonight.”
The mayor’s handshake was firm. “Any friend of the Ashworths is welcome here.”
For nearly an hour, Isabelle guided me through introductions. I watched her transform – in private, she offered small encouraging smiles, but in public, she was ice and steel, commanding respect with every gesture.
“You’re doing well,” she whispered during a brief moment alone. “Just keep standing straight. You belong here as much as anyone.”
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