Lyse humd happily, spreading a generous layer of marmalade on her toast and biting into it. The morning sunlight stread through the branches of the trees that provided shade on the terrace, casting a bright glow on the breakfast table while the birds chirped around. Levi ca in through the doors and placed a kiss on Lyse’s head before sitting across from her, he poured himself so coffee and soon he was engrossed in the financial news, his brow furrowed in concentration. The victory at the Golden Fleece competition still felt surreal, a dream she was afraid to wake from.
Suddenly, the shrill sound of the bell ringing at the door broke the peaceful silence. Lyse looked up frowning. Wondering who it could that be at this hour? They were not expecting any visitors that morning.
Levi, setting down his newspaper, looked equally surprised. Shortly after, the butler ca in and walked to Lyse’s.
"It’s for you, Mrs Van Doren" he said, handing Lyse a thin, cream-colored envelope before leaving them alone.
"A letter. How quaint." Lyse chuckled. "Who sends letters these days? It must be sothing very important important."
She examined the branded envelope, her curiosity piqued. It was addressed in elegant calligraphy, the return address simply stating "K. Stuart."
"K. Stuart?" Levi echoed, standing up and peering over her shoulder. "Who is that?"
Lyse shrugged. "I have no idea."
She carefully slit open the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. As she read, her eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Well, this is unexpected," she said, her voice laced with amusent.
"What is it?" Levi asked, his curiosity now fully engaged as he resisted the urge to read what was written as Lyse was taking too long to speak.
"It’s an invitation," Lyse explained, "from Ken Stuart. He is inviting to a gala."
Levi’s expression shifted, a hint of jealousy flickering in his eyes. "Ken Stuart? The Ken Stuart? The billionaire musician philanthropist?"
Lyse nodded. "The one and only."
"And he is inviting you to a gala?" Levi repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Just like that? Why would he do that?"
Lyse chuckled. "Apparently so. He says he would be ’honored’ if I would accompany him. Imagine that."
She noticed Levi’s pouty expression and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "Don’t worry, darling," she said with a playful smile. "You are the only old man I’m ever going to be interested in."
Levi’s frown softened, and he returned her smile. "I appreciate that, love. But still...Ken Stuart. That is quite a catch, are you sure he does not want more than just to thank his savior?"
"He is just trying to be friends," Lyse explained. "Rember, I saved his life. He probably feels indebted to and wants to show so more gratitude."
Levi raised an eyebrow. "Saved his life? When did this happen?"
Lyse quickly recounted the incident at the coffee shop, explaining how she had run into him and her tily actions had kept him alive.
Levi listened, his expression shifting from surprise to amusent. "Well, I’ll be damned," he said. "My wife, the lifesaver."
Lyse laughed. "It was nothing, really. Anyone would have done the sa if they were in my shoes."
"So will you be going?" Levi asked.
"Still jealous?" Lyse asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Now, I’m just asking." He said and raised his hands in surrender.
"I think that might be a chance for so good publicity." Lyse said thoughtfully, but still hesitant.
"I’m not sure that I want to go through."
"Speaking of good publicity!" She said suddenly as she glanced at the clock on the wall. "Oh dear, I am going to be late!" she exclaid, jumping up from her chair. "I have that press conference this morning."
She hurriedly finished her breakfast, grabbed her bag, and kissed Levi goodbye. "I will see you later, darling," she said, rushing out the door.
The press conference was a whirlwind of flashing caras and eager reporters. Lyse, still basking in the glow of her victory, answered their questions with confidence and grace. She spoke about her inspiration for her winning design, her passion for fashion, and her plans for the future.
Just as the conference was winding down, a reporter from a gossip magazine raised his hand. "Mrs Van Doren," he asked, his voice laced with innuendo, "I have recently uncovered so news, that you are committing Bigamy..."
The room went silent for a mont then suddenly, everyone was speaking at the sa ti while what felt like the flashes of a thousand caras went off at Lyse, blinding her temporarily.
Another reporter stood up, without even bothering to raise their hand. "Is it true that you had a one night stand when you were supposed to be getting married to Brandon Marlowe and that is what caused him to break off your engagent. Does Levi know that you were married before you married him?"
Lyse froze, her mind reeling. Married? Hidden? What was he talking about?
"I...I don’t understand," she stamred, her voice faltering. "My husband is Levi Van Doren. He couldn’t be here today due to prior commitnts."
The reporter smirked. "With all due respect, Mrs. Van Doren," he said, his voice dripping with skepticism, "we have it on good authority that your husband is not Levi Van Doren. In fact, we have photographs of you with another man, a man you seem to be quite...intimate with."
Lyse stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. Another man? Intimate? What was he talking about? Who was this man? And how did they have photographs?
A wave of panic washed over her. She felt trapped, exposed, vulnerable. She had no idea what was going on, no idea how to respond. She glanced around the room, searching for a friendly face, a source of support. But all she saw were curious eyes, eager for a scandal, hungry for a story.
She felt a cold dread creeping into her heart. Sothing was wrong. Very wrong.
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