Chapter 2

Penelope’s throat tightened. “Are… are you sure you’re not mistaken?”
“There’s no mistake.”
Penelope’s heart shattered. Her husband wasn’t her husband. He was her “best friend’s” husband.
The sharp, sweet sound of a violin cut through the air. Numbly, Penelope turned back toward the terrace.
Under a canopy of stars, surrounded by flowers, Zebulon took Rebecca’s hand. They began to sway to the romantic melody, lost in their own world. The large screen behind them changed again, now showing a picture of them on a cruise ship.
Penelope had a copy of that same photo. Except in her version, she was in it, too, standing right beside them. They had cropped her out.
My God, she had even been the one to plan that trip.
A wave of pure fury threatened to consume her. Clenching her fists, she started forward, ready to storm onto the terrace and demand they explain how they could do this to her.
Just then, Rebecca pulled something from her clutch and held it up for Zebulon to
see.
His eyes widened. He snatched it from her, staring at it intently before a look of pure, unadulterated joy spread across his face.
Penelope froze. In Rebecca’s hand was a pregnancy test. She’d used them herself a few times, each one a fresh stab of disappointment.
“I’m going to be a dad! I’m going to be a dad!” Zebulon, usually so composed, shouted with giddy excitement, wanting the whole world to share in his happiness.
And just like that, Penelope understood everything.
Two hours later, she followed Zebulon’s car back to the Sullivan estate.
The moment Rebecca stepped out of the car, Mrs. Sullivan rushed out from the house to greet her.
“Rebecca, my dear girl! Zebulon just called and told me you’re pregnant! Oh, this is the most wonderful news! This is exactly why I told him not to marry Penelope in the first place. After that car accident damaged her womb, she was useless to us!”
Rebecca squeezed Mrs. Sullivan’s hand. “It was worth the wait.”
“You’re such a good child, always so understanding. That’s what I love about you.”
Penelope watched as her mother-in-law, a woman who had only ever treated her with cold disdain, lovingly took Rebecca’s hand, calling her “my dear girl” and ushering her into the Sullivan home.
So that was it. They had discarded her because she couldn’t conceive. Because her body was broken.
And the most bitter irony of all? She had been so gravely injured saving Zebulon’s life.
The Sullivans, unwilling to be seen as ungrateful, had simply handed her a fake marriage certificate and played make-believe for three fong. years. They had treated her like, foot. Content befongs to
Her phone buzzed, displaying the name of a man she’d once dismissed as a lunatic.
Penelope took a deep, shuddering breath and answered. “You knew all along, didn’t you? You knew my marriage to Zebulon was a lie.”
The caller was the patriarch of the
Johnson family, one of Orenth’s most powerful dynasties. She had once in connection with a
met him
potential partnership between Kis company and Stone Group. But the
meeting hadn’t been about
business. Mr. Johnson had wanted
her to marry his son.
“If you agree to marry my son and bear a grandchild for the Johnson family,” he
had declared, “then everything I own will one day be yours.”
At the time, she’d thought he was senile. She was a married woman. The proposal was absurd.
But now she understood. He must have investigated her and discovered the entire charade.
“Ms. Laurier,” he said, his voice gentle. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. But
I trust you’d prefer a painful truth to a pleasant lie.”
“If you investigated me, then you know about my accident. It’s very difficult for me to get pregnant.” Follow current novels on.net
“I know an old physician who once examined you. She was confident she could help you conceive. I trust her judgment.”
Penelope didn’t know who this
doctor was or when she could have
possibly examined her, but after everything that had happened, she no longer doubted Mr Johnson’s capabilities.
She glanced one last time at the brightly lit Sullivan estate. It had been the place she called home.
But not anymore.
“Alright,” she said, her voice firm. “I accept. I’ll marry your son.”
“Excellent!”
“But I want a grand wedding,” she added. “And I want it soon.”
“Of course! When the Johnsons welcome a new daughter-in-law, the entire city will know about it!”
A wedding of that scale would take time to prepare. They settled on a date one month from now.