\u00a0<\/p>\n
Chapter 19\u00a0<\/p>\n
Inside, the music and chatter felt too loud, too heavy. My chest ached. I found Ax leaning against the wall with his usual lazy grin.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve got a bad headache,\u201d I whispered.\u00a0<\/p>\n
His smile faded, just a little. \u201cCome on then. I\u2019ll drive you back.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
And without another glance at the glittering hall, the stares, or the man whispering my name like a wound reopening, I let Ax lead me out.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u2026\u00a0<\/p>\n
ROXANNE\u2019S POV\u00a0<\/p>\n
My smile kept slipping and I had to keep fixing it with more champagne. My hands were shaking so bad I wrapped them tight around the glass like it might run away. Everyone kept saying I looked radiant, glowing, lucky. Inside my head it was chaos, screaming, sirens blaring.\u00a0<\/p>\n
That\u2019s her.\u00a0<\/p>\n
That is Isabella.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood and still I smiled, still I nodded, still I played the perfect wife. Pretend. That\u2019s what I\u2019m good at. I\u2019ve always been good at pretending.\u00a0<\/p>\n
The ride home was pure torture.\u00a0<\/p>\n
David sat beside me, stiff, staring out the window like I wasn\u2019t even there. Like I was air. I tried to fill the silence because if I didn\u2019t, I felt like I would explode.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cSo\u2026 tonight went well, right?\u201d I said, forcing a laugh. \u201cYour speech was great. Everyone loved it. You heard them clapping, didn\u2019t you? You were amazing.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Nothing.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Not a word. Not even a glance.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My chest tightened and the fear snapped into anger. \u201cI thought you had amnesia,\u201d I said, louder now. \u201cSo why are you saying another woman\u2019s name? Why are you looking at her like that? I\u2019m your wife, David! Me. I\u2019m Mrs. Vanderbilt. Not her.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
He finally turned his head, slow and heavy,\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cI just need to be alone,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cI can\u2019t think right now.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
And then he got out of the car.\u00a0<\/p>\n
11:10 Wed, Jan 28\u00a0<\/p>\n
86\u00a0<\/p>\n
Just opened the door and left me there like I was nothing. Like a driver. Like furniture.\u00a0<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t even look back.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I sat there gripping my phone so hard my nails dug into my palm. Losing him wasn\u2019t an option. No. Never. She already took too much from me once. She will not take him\u00a0<\/p>\n
now.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Back in my room, I locked the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. My hands were still shaking when I dialed the number I promised myself I would never touch\u00a0<\/p>\n
again.\u00a0<\/p>\n
The line clicked.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah?\u201d a man answered.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My voice dropped, sweet and calm, like I was asking for a favor, not a war. \u201cI need you to find someone for me. Her name is Nadia Joseph. I want everything. Where she came from, who she\u2019s sleeping with, who she talks to, what she eats for breakfast. I don\u2019t care how dirty you get. Dig until there\u2019s nothing left to dig.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I hung up and stared at myself in the mirror. My lips were still smiling. I always smile. Even when I\u2019m bleeding inside.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Sleep wouldn\u2019t come. I tossed and turned until my head finally slipped into the worst dream imaginable.\u00a0<\/p>\n
She was there. Isabella. Alive. Glowing. Standing next to David like she belonged at his side. He looked at her like the world had narrowed down to just her face. Then he dropped to his knees and said, \u201cI\u2019m sorry I never saw your worth. I was blind.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I ran to him, grabbed him, held on tight like a wife should. Like I deserved to. But his face went cold. He shoved me away and pulled out a gun.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Bang.\u00a0<\/p>\n
hit the floor and his voice kept echoing in my head. \u201cIt\u2019s all because of you. I didn\u2019t see the true value of my wife.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I jolted awake, throat tight, body soaked in sweat. I reached for David\u2019s side of the bed.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Cold. Empty.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d I whispered. \u201cWhere did you go?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I grabbed my phone. Four in the morning. I called him once. Twice. Again and again until my hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped it. No answer.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Then I opened Instagram.\u00a0<\/p>\n
And there she was.\u00a0<\/p>\n
2\/4 74.0%\u00a0<\/p>\n
11:10 Wed, Jan 28\u00a0<\/p>\n
Nadia Joseph. Isabella. Whatever name she\u2019s hiding behind now.\u00a0<\/p>\n
86\u00a0<\/p>\n
Photos everywhere. Smiling. Shining. Acting like she owned the damn world. And worse, she had two insanely hot men standing beside her like guards, like trophies. My stomach twisted and my face burned so hot I wanted to throw the phone across the\u00a0<\/p>\n
room.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cI will ruin you again,\u201d I hissed. \u201cJust like before.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
flipped the camera, adjusted the angle, messed up my hair, let my eyes go glossy, my lips tremble just right. Perfect. Weak. Innocent. Victim chic. I snapped the selfie and typed fast.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t sleep at all\u2026 I just found out my bully is still alive and walking free. It doesn\u2019t feel fair. I\u2019m scared for my life.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Post.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My phone exploded instantly.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cStay strong, Mrs. Vanderbilt!\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ve got your back always.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cHow dare she show her face again.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cWait, that bitch is alive? I thought she died already.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I scrolled, heart pounding, fingers shaking, and my lips slowly curled into a smile. Every comment was fuel. Every bit of outrage fed me.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is how I win,\u201d I whispered into the dark. \u201cShe won\u2019t take him from me.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
But the truth kept slamming into my chest no matter how hard I smiled. David was still\u00a0<\/p>\n
gone.\u00a0<\/p>\n
David didn\u2019t come home. And somewhere out there, he might be remembering her\u2026\u00a0<\/p>\n
and that will end me for real.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u2026\u00a0<\/p>\n
That afternoon Troy showed up, uninvited as always, like he still had the right. My ex. My favorite mistake. He dropped a thick folder on the table like a bomb.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I stayed calm. I poured myself a glass of wine, crossed my legs, acted like I owned the world. Then I opened it.\u00a0<\/p>\n
And everything shattered.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Isabella. Alive.\u00a0<\/p>\n
My fingers started shaking so bad I almost spilled the wine. My stomach twisted and my head went light, like the room tilted just for me.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the hell is this,\u201d I whispered, flipping page after page. Photos. Surveillance\u00a0<\/p>\n
Chapter 19\u00a0<\/p>\n
3\/4\u00a0<\/p>\n
75.0%\u00a0<\/p>\n
11:10 Wed, Jan 28\u00a0<\/p>\n
86\u00a0<\/p>\n
shots. Reports. Her face staring back at me like a ghost that refused to stay buried.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Troy leaned back, arms crossed, that ugly knowing smile on his face. \u201cTold you I\u2019d find the truth. She didn\u2019t die, Roxanne. You didn\u2019t finish the job.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cNo!\u201d I snapped, slamming the folder down. \u201cShe was supposed to be gone! How- how could she-? She was never meant to survive!\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
He laughed under his breath. \u201cFunny thing is, she didn\u2019t survive on her own. Caius Felipe pulled her and the kid out of the water. Both of them. Ryle too. Alive.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Prepare the divorce and ruin your husband by Mark Twain 19 \u00a0 Chapter 19\u00a0 Inside, the music and chatter felt […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"default","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[60],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-23550","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-his-regret-my-victory-novel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23550","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=23550"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23550\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=23550"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=23550"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=23550"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}