Chapter 3 · The Rose Letter

Instinctively, I reached in and pulled it out.

It was a wrinkled OB-GYN ultrasound sheet.

For a split second, my mind went blank, and a wave of ringing crashed over me, drowning everything out. I gripped the paper so hard my nails dug in, almost tearing it apart.

"What is this?" I stammered, my voice trembling badly.

Sebastian was loosening his tie when he froze mid-motion. He turned, his expression shifting in the moonlight, unreadable.

Then, completely unfazed, he strode over and snatched the paper from my hand.

"You don't need to worry about my business," he said flatly, tossing the sheet into the trash without a second thought, like it was nothing but a useless scrap.

"Sebastian! I'm your wife!" I shouted, my vision blurring with tears.

"Is Lexi pregnant? Are you going to throw everything we had away for her?" I demanded.

He stopped and turned to look at me. There was no guilt, no anger in his gaze, only a chilling calm I couldn't understand. It felt like he was watching something struggling on the brink of death.

"Natalie, just stick to your role. Don't ask about things that aren't your concern," he said.

He went upstairs, his footsteps steady and cold.

I slumped back onto the couch, my hands trembling as I fished the ultrasound sheet out of the trash.

Using the faint glow from my phone, I slowly smoothed out the creases. The moment I saw the name, my blood ran cold.

The name wasn't Lexi Lloyd.

It wasn't mine, either.

It was a name I didn't recognize at all: Selina Lloyd.

Sebastian's secret was far more complicated than an affair.

I stared at the image hinting at an unborn child, only feeling a massive net closing in around me, with nowhere left to run.

*****

The air after the rain was thick with the smell of wet earth, heavy enough to turn my stomach.

I sat in my unremarkable gray sedan, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles went white, my nails digging into the leather.

Up ahead, that familiar black Maybach slowly turned into a private sanatorium on the outskirts of the city. The place was hidden behind dense sycamore trees, its red brick walls covered in withered ivy, exuding a kind of expensive desolation.

I shut off the engine and got out, my legs so weak it felt like I was walking on cotton.

I'd bribed a nurse there with the last of my secret savings to buy the truth. When she handed me the stack of documents, she looked at me with pity.

I hid in the deserted stairwell, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold onto those thin sheets of paper.

The first was Selina's medical record. She was Lexi's younger sister, diagnosed with aplastic anemia.

In the photo, she looked so pale she was almost translucent, faint blue veins visible beneath her skin.

The second was my compatibility report.

The red stamp stung my eyes. Blood type, HLA compatibility, and even the smallest immune markers matched perfectly, like we were genetic twins. Under the "donor" section, my name was clearly listed: Natalie Gale.

I slumped against the icy tile wall, my mind reeling.

Why did he single me out three years ago? Why did he show that almost pathological anxiety every time I got sick? Why did he dangle that massive surgery bill in front of me to force my hand into signing that five-year renewal?

This wasn't a five-year marriage. It was a five-year preservation period for a living donor.

When Sebastian stepped out of the hospital room, he was recording a voice message for someone, his face gentler than I'd ever seen. As he passed the corner where I was hiding, I could even catch the faint scent of pine on him.

My heart pounded hard against my ribs like it might burst out. I pressed a hand over my mouth, refusing to let a sound escape.

So this was why he kept me. It was not out of love or those pathetic routines.

I was just a remedy, kept alive and always available, ready to save the sister of the woman he truly loved.

I was Mrs. Shaw, and at the same time, his private, walking bone marrow match.

*****

On our anniversary, he came home early.

The setting sun slanted into the living room, casting a harsh, almost savage red over my painting "Sunset."

He walked in holding an elegant gift box. He came up behind me, his warm breath on my neck, but all I felt were goosebumps prickling my skin.

"I got you a paintbrush," he said.

It was a pen, with a polished walnut wood barrel and bristles so soft they almost felt unreal. I'd once brought it up offhand in a magazine interview. I never expected him to remember.

Chapter 3

Instinctively, I reached in and pulled it out.

It was a wrinkled OB-GYN ultrasound sheet.

For a split second, my mind went blank, and a wave of ringing crashed over me, drowning everything out. I gripped the paper so hard my nails dug in, almost tearing it apart.

"What is this?" I stammered, my voice trembling badly.

Sebastian was loosening his tie when he froze mid-motion. He turned, his expression shifting in the moonlight, unreadable.

Then, completely unfazed, he strode over and snatched the paper from my hand.

"You don't need to worry about my business," he said flatly, tossing the sheet into the trash without a second thought, like it was nothing but a useless scrap.

"Sebastian! I'm your wife!" I shouted, my vision blurring with tears.

"Is Lexi pregnant? Are you going to throw everything we had away for her?" I demanded.

He stopped and turned to look at me. There was no guilt, no anger in his gaze, only a chilling calm I couldn't understand. It felt like he was watching something struggling on the brink of death.

"Natalie, just stick to your role. Don't ask about things that aren't your concern," he said.

He went upstairs, his footsteps steady and cold.

I slumped back onto the couch, my hands trembling as I fished the ultrasound sheet out of the trash.

Using the faint glow from my phone, I slowly smoothed out the creases. The moment I saw the name, my blood ran cold.

The name wasn't Lexi Lloyd.

It wasn't mine, either.

It was a name I didn't recognize at all: Selina Lloyd.

Sebastian's secret was far more complicated than an affair.

I stared at the image hinting at an unborn child, only feeling a massive net closing in around me, with nowhere left to run.

*****

The air after the rain was thick with the smell of wet earth, heavy enough to turn my stomach.

I sat in my unremarkable gray sedan, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles went white, my nails digging into the leather.

I shut off the engine and got out, my legs so weak it felt like I was walking on cotton.

I'd bribed a nurse there with the last of my secret savings to buy the truth. When she handed me the stack of documents, she looked at me with pity.

I hid in the deserted stairwell, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold onto those thin sheets of paper.

The first was Selina's medical record. She was Lexi's younger sister, diagnosed with aplastic anemia.

In the photo, she looked so pale she was almost translucent, faint blue veins visible beneath her skin.

The second was my compatibility report.

I slumped against the icy tile wall, my mind reeling.

This wasn't a five-year marriage. It was a five-year preservation period for a living donor.

My heart pounded hard against my ribs like it might burst out. I pressed a hand over my mouth, refusing to let a sound escape.

So this was why he kept me. It was not out of love or those pathetic routines.

I was just a remedy, kept alive and always available, ready to save the sister of the woman he truly loved.

I was Mrs. Shaw, and at the same time, his private, walking bone marrow match.

*****

On our anniversary, he came home early.

The setting sun slanted into the living room, casting a harsh, almost savage red over my painting "Sunset."

He walked in holding an elegant gift box. He came up behind me, his warm breath on my neck, but all I felt were goosebumps prickling my skin.

"I got you a paintbrush," he said.

It was a pen, with a polished walnut wood barrel and bristles so soft they almost felt unreal. I'd once brought it up offhand in a magazine interview. I never expected him to remember.