Chapter 2

Vero's family needed the Cole family's money, so her parents tearfully sent her off to marry Andrew. Her mother said, "Vero, I'm sorry you have to go through this, but our family just can't make it anymore."

Vero wore a wedding dress that wasn't even hers and married a man who didn't love her. On their wedding day, Andrew was so wasted he ended up hunched over the toilet, puking his guts out. She held up her skirt and went looking for him, only to hear him slurring into the toilet, "Tamara... Why didn't you wait for me..."

In that moment, she realized she'd probably be nothing more than a shadow of someone else, forever.

"What did you expect?" Riley said, exasperated. "Vero, you can't just let them walk all over you! You're his official wife! And Tamara? She's just an ex, a mistress! Show her who's boss. Tear her apart!"

"But what's the point?" Vero stared at the crystal chandelier above, each piece like a frozen tear. "His heart's with her. Even if I tear Tamara apart, there'll just be another Tamara, another woman after her."

There was a long silence on the other end before Riley sighed. "So, what are you going to do? Divorce him?"

Divorce?

Vero flexed her fingers, the burn on the back of her hand still throbbing.

"Riley," she said softly, "I'm pregnant."

On the other end, she heard the sound of glass breaking and Riley's shriek. "What? You're pregnant? When did that happen? Does Andrew even know?"

"Seven weeks. I haven't told him yet," Vero replied, her hand on her stomach, still flat as ever, where something small was quietly growing inside her. It was an accident, and honestly, the universe must be laughing at her.

A little over a month ago, Andrew came home drunk, something he rarely ever did. He held her tight, kissing the tear-shaped mole under her eye over and over, calling her "Tamara." She tried to push him away, but he just gripped her harder, like he was desperate to prove something. The next morning, he didn't say a word. He just left a credit card on the nightstand.

Vero thought this was her fate, stuck in a hopeless marriage, living as someone else's stand-in, until she grew old and died.

But then, the baby came.

"Vero, listen to me," Riley said, her tone turning serious. "You can't keep this baby. Andrew's heart belongs to Tamara. He'll never love this child. If you go through with it, you'll only end up hurting yourself and the baby."

Vero knew Riley was right. Logic told her to end the pregnancy, get a divorce, take the money, and start over.

But when she placed her hand on her stomach, it was so quiet, yet somehow it filled her with warmth. In this frozen marriage, it was the only thing that felt real.

"Let me think about it," she said.

After hanging up, Vero lay awake all night, staring at the ceiling until dawn.

The next morning, Andrew rarely stayed home for breakfast. He sat at the head of the table, flipping through the financial papers. Vero sat to his right, quietly sipping her milk.

When the servant brought out fried eggs and bacon, he frowned. "Take this away. Tamara doesn't eat greasy food. Get me oatmeal and boiled eggs instead."

"Yes, sir," the servant replied, nervously clearing the table.

Only then did he glance at Vero. "Go ahead."

Vero set down her milk, feeling her stomach churn. Morning sickness was hitting her hard, just the smell of grease making her want to puke.

"I don't want this either," she said. "Could you bring me some plain oatmeal instead?"

Andrew glanced at her pale face, paused for a moment, then told the servant, "Get her some oatmeal too."

Breakfast ended in silence. Andrew wiped his mouth and got up. "I'm not going to the office today. Tamara's here now, so I need to make sure she's settled. If you need anything, just ask Casey."

Casey was the housekeeper.

"Okay," Vero nodded quietly.

He walked a few steps, then stopped without looking back. "There's a family dinner tonight. Tamara will be here. Make sure you're ready."

A family dinner. So what was Tamara supposed to be tonight? Just a guest, or was she already being treated as the next lady of the house?

Vero didn't ask. She simply replied, "Got it."

That day, she went to the hospital, not for a prenatal checkup, but to get her burn looked at. The doctor dabbed on some ointment, bandaged it up, and reminded her to keep it dry. When she stepped outside, the sunlight was so harsh it stung her eyes.

Her phone rang. It was an unknown number. She answered, and a woman's voice, so soft it almost tickled her heart, drifted through the line.

"Hi, is this Vero? This is Tamara Shein."

Vero gripped her phone so hard her knuckles turned white.

"Hello, Ms. Shein."

"Andrew said you weren't feeling well, so he told me not to bother you," she said, her voice gentle and smiling, but every word felt like a needle under Vero's skin. "But I just got back to the country and everything still feels unfamiliar. Since we'll be living under the same roof soon, I thought I should at least say hello. Are you free right now? I'm at a cafe nearby."

How did she know Vero was here?

Vero looked up and scanned the street. Across the road, by the window of a cafe, a woman in white was waving at her. Even from this distance, she could see her icy and breathtaking face, like some untouchable fairy, too perfect for this world.

That was the face Andrew had loved for seven years.

"Alright, I can meet you," she said.

Inside the cafe, Tamara ordered an Americano for herself and a warm glass of milk for Vero.

"I heard your stomach's a bit sensitive. Milk helps with that," Tamara said, smiling as she pushed the milk toward her with an easy familiarity, like they'd been friends forever.

"Thanks," Vero said, but she didn't touch the milk.