---- Chapter 11 The next morning, Bennett woke to a text from his assistant back in New York. Sir, your father confirmed Mrs. Randolph is fine. She is enjoying her time with her friend. He said not to disturb her. The relief was immediate and immense. He had been overreacting. Of course she was fine. His father had spoken to her. He spent the day playing the part of the indulgent fiancé. He took Aria shopping on the Avenue Montaigne, a marathon of couture and jewelry that was more exhausting than any board meeting. Aria was in heaven, but nothing was quite right. She tried on a Chanel suit, a timeless, elegant piece. The moment he saw it, a lump formed in his throat. It was almost identical to the suit Kelsey had worn on their first anniversary dinner, years ago. He remembered how she had glowed, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "I feel like a real grown-up," she had whispered to him, a playful smile on her lips. "What do you think?" Aria asked, preening in front of the mirror. ---- "It's... nice," he said, his voice flat. "But it's not you. | want you to have something unique. Something that's only yours." He was trying to convince himself as much as her. Aria pouted, frustrated by his lack of enthusiasm. She tried on dress after dress, but he could barely focus. He kept thinking about Kelsey. The constant, gnawing anxiety had returned. Why hadn't she called? Why hadn't she texted? It wasn't like her. "You're not even paying attention!" Aria finally snapped, her voice shrill. "I'm sorry," he said, trying to pull himself together. "I've just got a lot on my mind with work." He suggested they take a break, and they went for a walk along the Seine. Aria, sensing his distraction, clung to his arm, trying to win back his attention. "| love you, Ben," she said, her eyes wide and earnest. "You know that, right?" He pulled her into a hug, a wave of guilt washing over him. "| know." But his mind was a million miles away, back in New York, in their silent penthouse. He pulled out his phone again, scrolling through his contacts. He called his assistant. "| need you to do something for me," he said, keeping his voice ---- low. "I want you to send someone to my apartment building. Just to check on things. Tell the doorman you're dropping off a package for my wife." "Of course, Mr. Randolph," the assistant replied. An hour later, a photo arrived on his phone. It was a grainy security camera image of Kelsey, taken that morning. She was leaving the building, laughing with another woman, her arm linked through hers. She looked happy. Genuinely, radiantly happy. & The relief was so strong it made him dizzy. She was fine. She was more than fine. But as he looked closer at the photo, a strange, unsettling feeling pricked at him. The woman she was with... he didn't recognize her. And Kelsey... she looked different. Freer. As if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.