Love Beyond the Mask

Chapter 97

The more Elaine pleaded Whitney’s case, the more it implied a harsh truth: Ludwik had his heart on his

sleeve yet was cast aside by Whitney while Bryce, the man who never clicked with him, effortlessly

stepped in.

Was she not acting exactly like a social butterfly, skirting just shy of scandal? Yet here she was, lying

through her teeth!

Ludwik’s inner fury was stoked, the seeds of doubt tumbling into an abyss.

Staring through the window at the woman on the phone, lost in a daze.

She hastily returned to the booth. Perhaps it was feigned clumsiness, but suddenly she stumbled

forward, her cry cut through the air as Bryce played the hero, catching her delicate hand. She looked

up, bashful in profile, while Bryce’s eyes held a deep, melting gaze.

Ludwik watched, an icy chuckle escaping his lips.

His phone met the wall with a shattering force.

The man turned, his expression frosty, slamming the car door behind him. His Bentley roared away,

leaving nothing but dust in its wake.

“Bro, wait for me…” Elaine called out desperately, but a sly smile crept across her face as she turned.

“Whitney, you’ve dug your own grave splendidly.”

Back in the booth.

Whitney entered, still shaken by L’s call. A misstep twisted her ankle; pregnant and cautious, she

reached for a chair to steady herself.

Bryce was quick to lend a hand, and as she found her balance, she immediately put space between

them, “Thank you, Mr. Lutz,” she said, and he quickly withdrew his hand.

Outside the open door, waitstaff bustled about.

Whitney let out a sigh, settling down to finish the half–drawn design. Despite her unease, she powered

through the rest of it.

She was eager to finalize the necklace design, so once Bryce reviewed the entire draft, they discussed

the details and decided on a precious emerald; the deal was set. She could start crafting it.

The rest was a matter of earrings, studs, diamond rings, a few bracelets, and brooches.

“My mother adores your style,” Bryce said. “I’m afraid I’ll need to impose on you a bit longer due to this

personal matter. But there’s no need to rush like today; my mother can wait.”

His ulterior motive was clear: he yearned for more time with the woman who stirred his heart.

Yet Whitney was oblivious to his intentions. Their conversation had been strictly business, and Bryce

had impressed her with a gentlemanly demeanor. Her guard was lowered, especially when he

considerately handed her a wrapped piece of velvet cake as she left.

“Perhaps you’ll enjoy this?” he offered with a smile.

Surprised and delighted, Whitney recognized the cake from her favorite bakery–a detail L had not even

known yet.

Of course, it was only because they had just started dating. She never intended to keep it a secret from

him.

“Thank you, goodbye,” she said, parting ways.

Exiting the Lotus Clubhouse, the chill of December’s approach was biting, darkness falling early in the

suburbs.

A yearning for L’s broad chest, towering presence, and inherent warmth bubbled within her.

Whitney’s lips curled into a smile as she drove toward United Realty Corporation, nestled in the heart of

Banyan City’s bustling center.

Upon arrival, she entered the imposing building, its grand lobby a beacon of light amid the late hours,

its staff a flurry of elite activity.

Yet at the front desk, a haughty secretary stopped her, “May I ask who you’re here to see?”

“…” Whitney stuttered, realizing she had yet to learn her husband’s name, and offered, “I’m here to see

your president”

The secretary eyed her skeptically, accustomed to women seeking Mr. Lippert’s attention. “Sorry, our

president isn’t in. Without an appointment, you can’t see him.”

Not in? Impossible. L had asked her to come to United Realty Corporation, promising to show her his

world.

Frustrated, Whitney dialed his number.

No answer.

Persistence won on the third attempt; a chilling voice crackled through the line.

Before she could speak, background revelry betrayed his location–a bar.

Her brow furrowed. “L, why did you hang up earlier? You said to come to the office, and now I’m here.”

Silence, then a mocking laugh.

Was he laughing at her?

A cold shiver ran down her spine. She softly pressed, “Where are you? Sorry, I got held up tonight. Did

I make you wait? I’ll come to you.”

His scornful laugh was a dagger to her ear. “Why don’t you spend the night at the Lotus Clubhouse?”

“What?” Confused, Whitney heard a woman’s cooing voice, followed by Elaine’s tender tone, “Bro,

don’t drink their toasts. Whitney will be heartbroken. Here, let me help you…”

A sudden silence fell over Whitney, her mind going blank.

He was at a bar, with women, with Elaine.

”

A fiery surge of indignation rose within her, “L, are you playing around? You stood me up, made me

come here for nothing, you…“”

“Since when do you have the right to question me? Who do you think you are? Do you really think

you’re my wife?” His voice was a drunken, icy deluge, “A woman full of lies…”

The call ended before she could grasp his last words.

Whitney stood frozen, warmth from the heater unable to penetrate the cold that gripped her. She had

been berated and belittled for no reason, her heart pierced by his cutting words. They were dating, yet

she had no right to question him. He could break promises and hurl insults with impunity.

This mercurial man, how could he be so cruel?

Yesterday, everything seemed fine. The man who shared a spicy barbecue with her. The man who

soothed her to sleep at night. The man who, in the morning, said he wanted her to really get to know

him. The man who, after a fight, promised they would make their love work. It was all him, his words,

his actions!

And now, he mocks her, saying, “Do you really think you’re my wife?”

Was this what he truly thought? Had he been playing her all along?

Whitney’s face drained of color as she crouched down, feeling deeply wounded yet utterly confused.

At that moment, the receptionist, seeing Whitney’s defeated look after her phone call, promptly Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

summoned a pair of security guards to escort her out

Whitney glared coldly at the secretary, lost in a haze and unwilling to speak. She walked out into the

biting wind, stood for a moment, and then drove back to the villa with a stony expression.

Inside, Natalie was resting in the single–story wing, and Taryn asked her if she had eaten dinner yet.

Whitney pressed her lips and turned away, nearly on the verge of tears in that instant.

Exhausted, she shook her head slowly and trudged upstairs. Opening the door to the master bedroom,

she was greeted by its chilling emptiness–a stark contrast to the previous night when he had held her

as they slept.

“He must be crazy,” she thought. “Even someone with schizophrenia isn’t as split as he is.”

After a day of running around, she was simply too exhausted. The last thing she wanted was to call him

and listen to his scolding. Curling up under the covers, she quickly fell into a restless sleep.

In the private room, Ludwik stared at the phone he had just hung up.

In a sudden rage, he hurled his brand–new smartphone, bought just this afternoon, at the glass table.

Expensive bottles of liquor rolled onto the floor, smashing to pieces!