Chapter 3
"Ms. Leyard, let me be straight with you," Tamara said, stirring her coffee. Her voice was still gentle, but her eyes were sharp. "You know about Andrew and me. I had my reasons for leaving seven years ago. Now I'm back, and there's no room for anyone else between us."
"I'm his legal wife," Vero reminded her.
"It's just a piece of paper," Tamara said with a soft laugh. "Andrew loves me. You've had to put up with a lot these past three years. But now that the real deal is back, it's time for the stand-in to step aside, right?"
She spoke as casually as if she were talking about the weather. Her certainty, her condescending tone, sent a chill down Vero's spine.
"You can keep up appearances as Mrs. Cole. To everyone else, you'll still be his wife. But behind closed doors, I hope you remember where you really stand," Tamara said, pulling a check from her purse and sliding it across the table. "Write in any amount you want. Take the money, live your life, and stay out of mine and Andrew's."
Vero stared at the check. The signature line was empty, and she could fill in whatever number she pleased.
It was so generous and utterly humiliating.
"And if I don't?" Vero heard her own voice, colder than she'd ever sounded.
Tamara raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised by Vero's pushback. She leaned in, her voice dropping. "Vero, you're smart. You know better than I do why Andrew married you. Now that the real deal is back, how much longer do you think a stand-in like you can stick around?"
She paused, then flashed a sweet smile, one that hid poison beneath the sugar.
"Oh, I heard you're pregnant? Funny, I'm pregnant, too. Of course, it's Andrew's child."
Vero's mind blanked out, as if she'd been struck by a sledgehammer. Blood surged to her head, then drained away, leaving her whole body cold and numb.
"What did you say?"
"I'm six weeks pregnant," Tamara said, gently stroking her belly, her eyes soft as water. "Andrew was thrilled when he found out. He said, 'Finally, our child.'"
She stared straight into Vero's eyes, speaking slowly and clearly, making sure Vero heard every word.
"Vero, your baby was just an accident. Mine is the child born out of love. Guess who Andrew will pick?"
Vero jumped up, the chair screeching harshly against the floor. Instantly, everyone in the cafe turned to look, their eyes burning holes in her back.
Tamara remained elegant, tilting her head to gaze at Vero with pity like she was watching a bug squirming beneath her shoe.
"Keep the check. Whenever you come around, you know where to find me," Tamara said, picking up her bag and rising gracefully. As she passed by, she leaned in and murmured, "By the way, Andrew said he'll announce my pregnancy at tonight's family dinner. You might want to brace yourself."
She walked away, leaving Vero standing alone in the center of the cafe, like the punchline of a cruel joke.
Outside, the sun was shining bright, but Vero felt cold to the bone.
The bandaged wound on her hand throbbed again. But it wasn’t her hand that truly hurt, it was her heart. And even the small life growing inside her seemed to ache as well.
She pressed her hand to her belly and slowly crouched down, tears finally breaking free, unstoppable.
Turned out, stand-ins weren't even allowed a name.
Even her baby was just... unnecessary.
Vero drifted back to the villa, barely aware of anything around her. By the time she arrived, night had already fallen.
The servants were busy preparing for tonight's family dinner. The scent of food and fresh lilies mingled in the air, and it was Tamara's favorite.
Vero went back to her bedroom, locked herself in, and collapsed onto the floor.
Her phone screen lit up with a message from Andrew: [7 PM. Don't be late.]
No greeting, no warmth, just a cold command, like an order from a stranger.
She stared at the message for a long time, then slowly typed back: [Andrew, I'm pregnant. Seven weeks.]
She hit send.
Every second felt like an eternity as she waited. She watched the screen light up, then fade, then light up again.
Ten minutes later, his reply finally came.
Just four words.
[Get rid of it.]
Outside, the setting sun stained half the sky red, just like blood.
Vero pressed her back against the icy wall, and out of nowhere, memories of their wedding day three years ago flooded in. The same twilight, the same wedding dress, her standing at the church doors, waiting for her groom.
Andrew showed up in a crisp white suit, looking every bit the storybook prince. But when his eyes met hers, there was no happiness, just a cold emptiness, like winter had settled in his gaze.
The priest asked, "Mr. Andrew Cole, do you take Ms. Vero Leyard to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and cherish her, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?"
He stayed silent for so long, the guests began to murmur and exchange uneasy glances.
Finally, he said, "I do."
His answer was barely above a whisper, more like a sigh than a promise.
Back then, Vero thought he was just nervous. Now she finally understood, his "I do" was never meant for her.
It was for Tamara, who was dancing in a white gown in some distant foreign land.
And Vero? She was just the one standing there, wearing her mask, finishing the act.
Her tears were all gone. She got up, walked over to the vanity, and stared at herself in the mirror.
Her face was ghostly pale, her eyes red and swollen, and that little beauty mark under her left eye, the one shaped like a teardrop, was impossible to miss.