Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 58: Hangout II

Gianna had never gotten used to this. She doubted she ever would.

The careful small talk. The deliberate laughter. The way her friends subtly rearranged themselves around her whenever someone she didn’t want to face was about to enter the same space.

It was done with love, she knew that. With consideration, with the quiet instinct of people who had learned how to protect one another without needing to ask.

Still, it only sharpened her awareness, made the waiting heavier, the anticipation more suffocating. As though every second stretched itself thin just to test her endurance.

It reminded her of Athena. Back when Athena and Ewan had been locked in that volatile, stubborn phase of their relationship, when love had looked more like warfare and neither of them had known how to retreat.

Gianna remembered those days vividly—the way Athena’s jaw would tighten at the mere mention of his name, the way Ewan would pretend indifference while orbiting every room like a restless satellite, never too far, never fully gone.

They had loved and fought each other loudly then, recklessly, and the collateral damage had been everyone else.

Now, the roles had shifted.

Now, it was her. And she didn’t like it.

She sat relaxed, spine easy against the velvet cushioning, fingers loosely wrapped around the stem of her champagne glass. Anyone watching her would think she was calm. Composed. Entirely at ease.

Outwardly, she was.

Inwardly, her mind kept counting.

Minutes. Seconds. The inevitable moment when the door would open and the space between her and Zane would collapse into nothing.

When avoidance would no longer be an option. When the past would step into the present wearing a perfectly tailored suit maybe, and an unreadable expression.

Her mask slipped on automatically, as natural as breathing. The polite smile. The relaxed shoulders. The emotional neutrality that had become second nature whenever their paths were forced to cross. It was a well-practiced thing now, this version of herself.

She hated that too.

Athena’s voice floated beside her, animated, cutting through the tight coil in her chest. "So Sandro officially handed over the reins today," she was saying, one hand gesturing loosely as she spoke, finger flashing with a ring Ewan had given her.

"He couldn’t even wait until we had settled in properly..."

Chelsea chuckled. "Well, he has tried a lot in holding the forte in the absence of you both. I’m not even sure how he did it..."

"He is Sandro," Athena replied, shrugging one shoulder. "He loves managing things. But of course, I appreciate his hardwork. Only he won’t even hear it or accept compliments..."

Gianna hummed in agreement, nodding at the right places, even offering a comment here and there. Her voice sounded steady when she spoke. Thoughtful. Present.

Her friends were doing exactly what they always did. It helped. A little.

She took another sip of champagne, the cool bite spreading warmth through her chest. She was pleasantly buzzed now, her thoughts smoothing at the edges. Not sloppy. Just...lighter.

Enough that the constant vigilance dulled. Enough that the waiting didn’t feel like it was clawing its way up her spine.

That was when laughter drifted in from the entrance.

Her hand paused halfway back to the table, glass hovering midair. She didn’t look. She didn’t need to.

Her ears picked the voices out instinctively. Ewan’s deep laugh, Sandro’s sharper amusement, Aiden’s lower murmur beneath...

And then there was him.

Zane’s voice threaded through the soundscape like a blade wrapped in velvet. Familiar in a way she wished it wasn’t. It slid under her skin before she could stop it, settling somewhere behind her ribs.

But she focused harder on Athena’s story, on the way her friend’s eyes lit up as she talked about responsibility and power and the strange thrill of stepping fully into a role she’d earned.

Gianna nodded, smiled, even laughed at the right moment, though the sound of her own laughter felt distant in her ears.

And then the scent hit her. Subtly spiced.

Her chest constricted as usual, breath catching for just a fraction of a second before she forced it steady. She hated that scent. Hated the way it bypassed logic and reason and went straight for memory.

Dark days. Long nights. Nightmares. Blood.

She wished that she could erase it from existence.

But there was no choice.

The greetings began around the table.

Susan was the first to reach them, all warmth and familiarity, arms wrapping around Athena, then Chelsea, then Gianna herself. "Look at you," she said with a grin, pulling back to study Gianna’s face. "Thriving."

Gianna snorted softly. "Debatable."

Susan laughed and winked at her, unmistakably. Gianna rolled her eyes, already knowing exactly what the gesture was for.

She doubted she would ever live down the rumor of sleeping with Zane. It clung to her like a second shadow, fed by people who had never known the truth and never needed to.

Susan slid into the seat beside her. Athena’s mentee. A woman who’d grown up far too fast after her mother had died during one of Athena’s missions. Gianna had always admired her resilience, the quiet steel beneath her easy smiles.

Susan nudged her lightly. "By the way," she said, lowering her voice, "the jewelry on the Becketts’ site? Stunning. I already booked an order."

Gianna’s face softened immediately, something real breaking through the practiced calm. "You did?"

"Of course," Susan said. "I couldn’t resist. I want the emerald set."

That pulled Gianna in fully, delight blooming in her chest. She leaned closer, asking questions, explaining design choices, the inspiration behind certain cuts, the way light was meant to catch along the edges.

Talking about her work always grounded her, reminded her why she pushed so hard, why the sleepless nights and relentless standards were worth it.

She didn’t even notice when the men took their seats.

Not until Ewan, settled beside Athena, caught her eye and lifted his glass in greeting.

She smiled back, genuine this time. "Congratulations, by the way," she said, leaning slightly toward him. "The honeymoon glow suits you."

Ewan flushed, just a little, laughter bubbling up. "Don’t encourage her."

Too late.

Sandro, first amongst others, chuckled from across the table, adding something about marriage mellowing people out.

Aiden greeted her warmly, and she asked after his work at the president’s residence, listening intently as he spoke about schedules and security...

She relaxed. Actually relaxed. And then she felt it. The weight of his gaze.

She didn’t look at him. Refused to. But she could feel it all the same, like a pressure against her skin.

Zane was watching her. Studying her with that quiet intensity she remembered far too well. Not invasive. Not aggressive. Just...present.

She ignored him.

Focused instead on Aiden as he spoke about logistics, about how things were running smoothly—for now. "There are murmurs," he admitted, fingers tapping lightly against the table. "Organized crime gaining more ground. Might affect the upcoming elections..."

Zane spoke then, voice even. "It’s always been there."

Aiden nodded. "This feels different."

He didn’t elaborate. Instead, he shifted, rubbing the back of his neck, a small, uncharacteristic tell. "Actually, I wanted y’all advice. That’s one of the reasons I dropped by..."

That got everyone’s attention.

Aiden wasn’t one to ask for help lightly. Neither was he one to blush.

"My ex-wife," he continued. "I’m traveling to see my daughter soon. I want to make things...civil. For her sake. I just think... you know..." He sighed, ruffling his hair.

Chelsea blinked. Athena’s expression softened. Even Spider leaned forward, interest piqued.

"You?" Sandro teased lightly. "First Zane, now you? Ewan must be contagious. That wedding really did the bonkers on you two!"

Laughter rippled around the table.

Gianna laughed too—but it was thinner, less convincing.

First Zane?

What did that mean?

Her fingers tightened around her glass. She didn’t look at him. Wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Instead, she lifted her champagne and took a measured sip, forcing her shoulders to relax.

Out of the corner of her vision, she saw him though. Calm. Relaxed. Watching her like he was waiting for something.

She refused to react.

Then a shadow fell across the table, cutting off the moment.

An older man stood there, dressed in understated luxury, eyes bright with recognition that bloomed too quickly, too eagerly. His face broke into a wide smile.

"Well," he said, voice warm, almost fond. "I’ll be damned."

Gianna’s heart skipped.

Zane stiffened beside her. Just slightly. Enough that she noticed.

The man laughed softly, looking between them. "I haven’t seen you two together in years. Thought I was imagining things when I spotted you."

Her throat went dry.

"I see you found a new spot, maybe changed locations? I missed seeing you two at the Teezers, taking your pictures. You used to come there all the time," he continued, oblivious, delighted.

"Always tucked away in corners. I remember waiting for an invitation..."

Memory slammed into Gianna. Dim lights. Shared laughter. Zane’s hand at the small of her back. The illusion of forever.

The man cleared his throat, finally sensing something amiss, seeing the no-smiles on their lips, on the lips of their friends. "I—I’m here visiting my daughter," he added awkwardly.

"Her family. Saw you and thought...well." He trailed off, smile faltering. "Are you... married now?"

The silence was deafening.

Gianna couldn’t breathe at that second.

Zane stepped in smoothly. "No," he said gently. "But it’s good to see you. It’s been a while..."