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"A tedious meeting held in such a lovely place will become more bearable," he lectured, sitting opposite me. I lifted a brow, holding his salacious gaze. "Didn't Zyon say you're not related to Chester Kellerman?"

My face was a rigid mask when I glared at him. He made me highly uncomfortable, and his disgusting glances at my chest made me want to kick him in the balls.

"I don't remember," I replied with fake sweetness dripping from my tongue.

"I'm curious: does your husband know about your close relationship with your boss?" My brows shot up, and George offered me a crooked, devilish smile. "I'm sure he wouldn't be happy about Zyon's interest in you."

"What that's supposed to mean?" I hissed through gritted teeth, killing him with my eyes. I heard the threat hidden behind his words, but I wanted him to confirm it.

"It's a simple warning, Mrs. Kellerman," George said, entwining his meaty fingers on the table. "Information about Zyon's current mistress is precious."

"Excuse me?" I raised my voice, fisting my palm. "I'm nobody's mistress."

"I saw the way he looks at you, darling," George uttered, his beady eyes falling to my deeper V-neckline. "And who could blame him? You surely are tasteful."

"You're disgusting," I barked, glancing toward the Ferris wheel. I hoped Chester would show up and send this pig where he belonged.

"You should be more friendly toward a man who has the power to destroy your pretty little family," he preached, standing up. "I'll stay in touch, Mrs. Kellerman. Enjoy your day."

It took all my self-control not to spit at his feet. His sickening smile was imprinted on my memory, and I had difficulty acting like nothing happened when Zara and Chester returned.

Zara spoke about the fantastic view from the Ferris wheel and pleaded to go on a roller coaster.

I didn't like too much adrenalin, so when we finished eating, Chester went with her.

I had time to muse about George's words and prepare a story for my husband if he ever came across a rumor about me and Zyon .

I couldn't let anyone place that seed of doubt into Chester's brain about me having an affair with my boss. I couldn't predict what he would do to punish me. I wasn't scared of arguing with him. I was petrified of losing Zara.

"One double expresso with an extra portion of cream," Chester announced, placing a cup with a massive mountain of whipped cream before me. I looked at him as if he lost his mind, and he grimaced. "C'mon, it won't ruin your stunning figure."

"I'll pretend it was a compliment," I pointed out, taking a spoon from him.

"Of course, it was a compliment," he stated, leaning closer so Zara didn't hear him. "You have the most fuckable ass in the entire state of New York."

I cringed, staring at him wide-eyed. Usually, his dirty talk would make me giggle and blush. This time, my stomach turned into knots, and I completely lost my appetite.

Thankfully, something in the distance caught his attention, and he moved plastic cups and water bottles mindlessly before me.

"I need to leave for a few minutes," he said, winking at Zara, who was dirty from ice cream. She ate so much that I worried about her poor, tiny stomach.

"Okay." I nodded, pretending to be engrossed in whipped cream, but I secretly followed him with my eyes. Zara's chirping reached me like from what felt like far away because I focused on Chester.

He stopped beside the stalls with pretzels, buying one when a man approached him. He was dressed in a custom-made suit that starkly contrasted with the surroundings. His grey hair was glued to his head with too much gel, and his darker skin made me wonder where he could be from.

He was probably in his mid-sixties and emitted great power. Even from a distance, I saw the scowl on his wrinkled face when he talked to Chester.

Without thinking, I pulled out my phone and took discreet photos of them. This could be the mysterious someone Chester worked for. If it was true, at least I would know who covered his pathetic ass and supported his oversized ego.

Chester returned in less than five minutes with a flawless smile.

But I knew him well enough to notice his nervousness.

He sat next to me, and his right leg bounced rapidly.

He tapped his fingers against the table and stared somewhere behind me.

Zara also caught a change in his behavior and licked her ice cream quietly.

"What about the skating rink?" Chester interrupted the silence, glancing at me. "You're great on it. You can teach Zara some moves."

"I haven’t stood on skates for eight years," I protested, shaking my head. "I'll break my legs."

"Yeah, sure." He rolled his eyes, grabbing my hand. "Let's go. We need to burn some calories."

Zara squealed excitedly and hurried to the other side where the rink was. My mind was full of terrible scenarios, which included broken limbs, cracked ribs, and twisted ankles.

But they were adamant. Zara knew how to skate thanks to a course at school, and Chester was the one who discovered my hidden talent. He took me on a date to play bowling, and then we went skating. I’d never laughed so much. It was the day I fell in love with him.

I checked the tiny wheels on my skates and put them on. Zara and Chester were already inside, fooling around.

There weren't many people in the rink. I had enough space to try not to break my face.

It was like riding a bike. My legs knew the moves, and my body remembered the posture. After a few moments, I was speeding around, the wind ruffling my hair, and a broad smile crossed my face.

"See, I told you." Chester grinned when I stopped beside them, and Zara whistled. "You can't forget something you were born for."

I laughed, taking Zara's hands and circling the rink with her. She was great, moving with grace and ease. We raced, and Chester measured our time until we almost fell on our backs from exhaustion. It was an amazing experience to stand on skates after all those years.

"C'mon, I'll carry you, sweetheart," Chester said and picked Zara because she couldn't stand on her legs. I packed our things and followed him to our car. She fell asleep before he placed her in the back seat.

"Thank you," I declared sincerely when he closed the door, stopping him with my hand on his forearm. "It was a great afternoon. "

"I enjoyed it, too," he replied, watching me closely. His eyes held an intense glint of affection, which I hadn't witnessed for months. "We can always be like this, Valeria, if you just stop fighting me."

I pressed my lips into a thin line, ceasing a vexing comment from escaping. I didn't want to ruin this day by argument. We both deserved a break.

"Maybe," I whispered, not sure what else to say. It was a lovely time, but it couldn't erase the fact he hit me, threatened me, and forced me to return against my will.

"Of course, if there isn't someone else ready to take my place," Chester stated, closing the distance between us. He looked down at me. His nose was barely two inches from mine. "Someone who leaves you flowers in our daughter's room."

"That’s absurd, and you know it," I said, glancing directly into his eyes.

It wasn't hard to lie to him. It was the easiest thing to do, and it didn't bother me at all. My conscience screamed at me when I lied to my stalker but stayed quiet while I spoke bullshit into my husband's face. How twisted my thinking had become.

Chester didn't comment on my words. He opened the car door for me, and I got inside, exhaling deeply.

It was exhausting to play a good wife when all I wanted to do was to strangle him, but the biggest reason for this charade peacefully slept in the back. For her, I would endure a hundred empty marriages.