Mrs.Rosenthal's Diamond Ring Disguises Her Husband's Deceits

As soon as they walked into the private room and sat down, Crosby didn’t bother with any pleasantries.

Without even glancing at the menu, he told the server, “One of each of your signature dishes. And whatever new items you’ve launched lately—bring those too.”

The server had barely turned to leave when Crosby added casually, “Make them light. She’s pregnant.”

The waiter glanced at Charlene, gave a polite smile, and said, “Of course, Mr. Clooney.”

Once the server left, Crosby crossed his legs and rocked his foot lazily.

“Want a drink?” he asked.

Charlene rolled her eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with Crosby?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just trying to drown some heartbreak.”

She paused mid-sip, then chuckled softly. “Where exactly do you see the heartbreak on me?”

Without a word, Crosby rolled up his sleeve and showed her the red marks from earlier.

The sight of him doing that broke through her stiff facade—her expression softened for the first time since they met today.

“You think I can still numb myself with alcohol like I did in my early twenties?”

“Heh,” Crosby let out a soft laugh. “Charlene, don’t you think you’re being a little hypocritical? You used a one-night stand pregnancy to tie down a man. Since that moment, you had no dignity left in front of Jagger.”

He leaned forward slightly. “So what’s with the whole ‘I’m the bigger person’ act now? Who are you trying to impress—Jagger? That woman? Or everyone in Lancaster? Do you think any of them care about your so-called grace?”

She couldn’t argue. Because he was right.

No one cared how well she was handling her life. They just wanted the full gossip: how this mess began, how far it would fall, and how humiliating her marriage to Jagger would become.

And yes, she could’ve turned down that arranged marriage like an adult. But she’d chosen to play dumb and go through with it.

In other words, she brought this on herself.

So what exactly was she still trying to protect?

The light smile she’d worn earlier twisted into a bitter one—at herself.

Crosby shook his head and started spinning the carving knife between his fingers.

“At least you’re starting to wake up. That’s something.”

She blinked at him blankly.

He gave her a once-over, scoffing at how the bold, reckless heiress he used to know had turned into this fragile shell.

“Don’t tell me… you still can’t let him go?”

She stared at the spinning blur of the carving knife. After a long pause, she said quietly, “Maybe a little.”

The moment she saw Crystal… Charlene no longer wanted the divorce.

She’d been losing to that woman since college.

Now, after finally winning the title of being Jagger’s wife—the title Crystal always wanted—how could Charlene just give it up?

Crosby raised a brow. “So…?”

“I still want to win.”

He just rolled his eyes. “Putting on a brave face.”

Not long after, the dishes were all served.

Charlene didn’t have much appetite. She only took a few bites of each dish—just enough to be polite as the host.

But Crosby clearly noticed.

“These new dishes are mid at best,” he muttered. “Whose idea of taste is this?”

Charlene looked down at her nearly untouched salad and nodded, “Yeah… pretty average.”

The server nearby heard this and couldn’t tell whether they were criticizing the food—or passive-aggressively towards each other. After all, Crosby’s sarcasm was legendary.

Crosby looked the server dead in the eye and said, “Come here. I’m ordering again.”

The flustered server rushed back with the menu, offering new recommendations.

“There’s nothing but crabs for meat? What about red wine braised beef? She likes that.”

“Sir, this is a high-end restaurant—” the server began, but her voice trailed off under Crosby’s amused stare.

“Oh sure. ‘High-end.’ All these greens on the menu, people might think this place caters exclusively to vegans.”

“We do serve meat, sir. If you look at the front—”

“Oh yeah? You want a pregnant woman eating crudo? Have your chef whip up Burgundy-style beef and stuffed bell peppers. Mexican style.”

“That’s not on the menu, sir.”

“What kind of chef doesn’t know how to make Michelin-star dishes? Just tell them to make it.”

As the server scurried away, Charlene turned to him with mischief in her eyes.

“My baby’s almost due—how are you still scandal-free in that cesspool you call the entertainment industry?”

He looked up lazily. “Haven’t you heard? You’ve always been my rumored leading lady.”

Charlene’s curious face suddenly froze. She couldn’t believe she’d just become the subject of her own gossip.

Okay, fine—she had helped him get some resources back in the day when he was chasing the dream. There were rumors. But she hadn’t paid attention to what came after.

Suddenly remembering something, she covered her mouth. “Wait. Was it back when you blew up and came to my family’s New Year gala?”

“Ugh—” Crosby groaned dramatically, dragging his hand down his face. “No! Way before I blew up. The minute I took that endorsement deal with your family’s brand, a few of my rivals dug into my background and found you. The rumors started then.”

He gave her a long look. “But you were too busy fawning over Jagger to care.”

“Wait—what happened after?” Charlene frowned. She’d always assumed people just didn’t like his attitude. Turns out, it was her family name that made some starlets too scared to compete.

After all, her family had its hands in half the beauty industry, and she was practically born with a silver lipstick in her mouth.

In the industry where brand deals could make or break you, no one was stupid enough to risk their future chasing a man backed by a major investor.

“Explain and it sounds like you’re hiding something. Don’t explain, and people assume it’s true,” Crosby muttered, watching her clueless expression with growing exasperation.

Her jaw dropped. “But I’m married now! That rumor should be dead, right? Please don’t tell me a reporter caught us just now and is cooking up some ‘old flames reignited’ nonsense.”

Crosby gave a bitter smile. “Your husband parades around with his precious first love. You think the paparazzi wouldn't assume you’re both doing your own thing?”

“And don’t forget,” he added, “everyone’s a reporter these days. Didn’t you notice that server calling me ‘Mr. Clooney’ over and over?”

She got his point but tried to reassure herself. “It’s a fancy place. Probably no one would post anything. Hopefully no one recognized you.”

“You mean aside from you, who just mocked me for dressing too low-key?”

Before she could respond, Crosby’s phone started buzzing nonstop.

He glanced at the screen.

“Damn! Check X—apparently I’m trending now. Accused of being someone’s sugar baby just to land roles!”