Chapter 1

Five years after my husband, Ryan Hawthorne, and I got married, his mistress got pregnant. Instead of throwing a fit like I used to, I went to that woman's rundown apartment and brought her home.

She was ten years younger than me, with big eyes and a sharp nose. She looked just like I did at twenty.

She carefully cradled her belly and asked, "Violet, after I give birth to the baby, I'll leave. I don't want anything, okay?"

I gently stroked her hair, thinking to myself, 'Relax. I'll help you become the new Mrs. Hawthorne as soon as I can.'

After all, if I waited any longer, that young guy I'd been keeping an eye on would leave the country.

*****

By the time someone with an agenda dropped the bomb that Sophie Lane was pregnant, she was already three months in.

It wasn't like Ryan was out to embarrass me. Three months ago, on my birthday, we had a blowout. I said some pretty cruel things, and he stormed out.

That was probably when he went to find that girl, the one who had to do whatever she could just to pay for her mom's hospital bills.

I had no clue what kind of chaos went down that night. All I saw was Ryan's shirt with faint streaks of blood on the hem the next morning.

This wasn't the first time he'd gone looking for a stand-in.

I just brushed it off.

I had no idea she was pregnant.

As the car wound deeper into the maze of narrow alleys in the slum, I couldn't help but frown.

I couldn't help but ask the driver, Jack, "Didn't Ryan get her an apartment?"

Jack shot me a look. "He did, but she turned it down."

She really reminded me of my younger self.

When we finally pulled up downstairs, I couldn't help but frown even deeper.

The buildings were packed so tight that sunlight could barely squeeze in. She lived all the way up on the eighth floor, and the stairs were so cramped that, even with all my gym training, I was getting winded climbing up step by step.

Maybe it had just been too long since I'd breathed in that musty, suffocating air. Strangely enough, it almost felt familiar, like some twisted version of home.

When I finally got to 801, I knocked on the battered green door. A girl stepped out, her long hair falling over a simple white dress.

She wasn't wearing any makeup, but she was still really pretty, her big eyes soft and doe-like.

As soon as she saw me, her face went pale for a moment. She obviously recognized me.

She couldn't help but step back. "M-Mrs. Hawthorne."

I just nodded. "Hello."

She just started shaking even more.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" I asked.

Sophie froze for a second, then finally stepped aside to let me in.

It was a tiny studio apartment—so small that my bathroom at home was bigger than the whole place.

But the place felt warm and lived-in, with a lace cover thrown over the sofa, a little TV, some handmade knickknacks on the table, and even a photo of Ryan sitting out in plain view.

Ryan at twenty, grinning at the camera on a mountaintop. I snapped that photo myself.

I always thought I'd lost it, but he'd brought it here all along.

Sophie caught my gaze and awkwardly moved to block the photo. "S-Sorry. Mr. Hawthorne insisted I put it there."

After ten years together, I knew every little thing Ryan had on his mind.

He saw Sophie, almost a spitting image of me, with a personality halfway to mine, and it must've reminded him of how things used to be.

I just couldn't figure out why he was so stuck on it.

I gave her a small smile and sat down on the couch.

"You're pregnant?" I asked.

Sophie was caught off guard, stunned for a moment.

Fear flickered in her eyes.

"Y-Yes," she stammered.

"But I swear, I didn't do it on purpose. I really didn't know this would happen," she said, her voice trembling.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hawthorne. I never wanted to ruin your marriage. Please, don't hate me," Sophie pleaded.

"I'll deal with it. I'll leave. Just please, don't hurt my sick mom because of this," she begged.

She was crying so hard that her tears fell like raindrops, making her look even more pitiful.

I walked over and brushed her cheek. It was unbelievably soft and smooth beneath my fingers.

"Why are you crying? I never said you had to get rid of the baby," I said, my tone calm.