Chapter 1
The day I lost the baby, Phillip Archer sent me a message.
Phillip: [Laura's back in town. Clear out the master bedroom. She can't stand hotels.]
I was lying on the emergency gurney, pain twisting through my abdomen, blood seeping bit by bit beneath the white sheets.
The doctor pressed my phone back into my hand, his voice urgent. "Where's your family? We need a signature right now."
I stared at the message for three seconds, then suddenly laughed.
So this was what it felt like when a woman finally gave up. I only felt despair and coldness.
I called Phillip. It rang for ages before he finally picked up.
The background was noisy, like an airport, and a woman's soft, sweet laughter cut through the static.
"Phillip, my bags are so heavy," Laura's voice chimed in, sounding playful.
Then Phillip's voice cut in, low and steady, as if he was just handling another ordinary task. "Bella, I'm busy right now. Laura just landed. Don't start anything."
*****
My fingers were pale from the pain, but I still asked him quietly, "What if I am not starting anything?"
There was a brief silence from his side.
Soon, he sounded impatient. "If you need anything, talk to Issac. And the master bedroom has to be cleared out tonight."
Then he hung up.
The doctor stared at me. "Are you going to sign it?"
I pressed my phone to my chest, took a shaky breath, and picked up the pen. I wrote my name in the family signature box. Bella Haynes.
From beginning to end, I was all alone.
Before the surgery, the nurse asked, "Didn't the baby's father know you were pregnant?"
My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
I was going to tell him.
Today was our third wedding anniversary.
Before I left the house this morning, I tucked the positive pregnancy test and the ultrasound report into my bag. I was planning to surprise him with the news tonight, as a special anniversary gift.
I'd even bought a pair of tiny, pale blue baby socks and hidden them in the back of the closet.
But now, the ultrasound report was crumpled and stained with blood, lying in my palm.
The nurse saw I wasn't going to answer and didn't press me.
Before they wheeled me into the operating room, I glanced up at the ceiling one last time.
The lights were so bright, they made my eyes sting.
Suddenly, I remembered our wedding day three years ago. Phillip was standing at the altar, looking right at me as he said, "I do."
He wore a black suit, his eyes cold and distant, like a perfectly polished block of ice.
Everyone said I was lucky. A designer from a humble background, married to the most unreachable man in the Archer family.
But only I knew Phillip didn't marry me out of love.
It was because I reminded him of someone else.
Someone he'd been longing for all those years, his childhood sweetheart, Laura Wallace, who went abroad and disappeared from his world.
Back then, I told myself it was okay.
Maybe love could be saved up little by little, and marriage could be lived out day by day.
I didn't care about the past. All I wanted was a chance at our future.
But now I finally understood. Being someone's substitute was never really a place you could call your own.
It was a knife.
Most of the time, I didn't even notice the blade. But when it finally cut, it went deeper than any wound I had ever felt.
By the time the surgery was over, it was already dark outside.
Issac Sutton showed up at the hospital, carrying a bag of fresh clothes, looking uncomfortable.
"Mrs. Archer, Mr. Archer is really busy right now. He asked me to take you home," Issac said.
I looked at him. "Does he even know why I'm in the hospital?"
Issac paused, avoiding my gaze.
That was when it hit me. Phillip never even bothered to ask.
He saw my call today as another pointless bid for his attention.
I leaned back against the hospital bed, my throat felt tight, but not a single tear came.
"Let's go home," I said.
Issac probably thought I'd keep acting dignified and obedient, swallowing all my pain like I always did, never letting anyone see how much it hurt.
After all, that was how I had survived these three years.
Whenever Phillip was busy, I stayed out of his way.
Whenever he was in a bad mood, I kept quiet.
Phillip didn't like me wearing red, so I put away every bright color in my closet.
He said he didn't want the house to be noisy, so I got used to keeping the TV volume barely audible.
He said he hated strong scents, so I stopped wearing perfume altogether.
He said apricot suited me, so my closet ended up full of nothing but pale, soft colors.
Until one day, I stumbled across an old photo in his study.
In the picture, Laura was wearing an apricot sweater, her long hair draped over her shoulders, her smile soft and gentle.
That was when it hit me. It wasn't that apricot suited me. It was because Laura wore apricot, and that was what Phillip liked.
I always thought I was marrying the man who'd be my partner for life.
It turned out I was living in the shadow of the woman he could never let go.
By the time we got back, every light on the first floor of the villa was blazing.