Replaced By A Pregnant Substitute

a

and security guards scrambled to contain the blaze I' d started, I slipped out of the

y trembling hand. My fingers, clumsy from disuse, fumbled with the coins. There was only one person in

le ring, cutting through the st

athed, my voic

gnizable even after five years. It held a warmth that I ha

ou once told me that if I ever needed anything, if I ever wanted to come back...

ound of your voice." The raw emotion in his words was a stark contrast to t

My situation... it's complicated. My identity has been... compromised.

commanding. This was the Dario I remembered, the fashion mogul whose influence spanned continents. "The only thing th

a chill down my spine. "I know. Tha

for a beat. "Ila, w

, the plan forming in my mind with chilling clarity. "It's the only

ound me from behind, pulling me into a hard, desperate embra

ainst my hair. "Thank god. I thought I'd

ainful. He was holding me as if I were the most precious thing in

"He was a madman, Ila," Mark said, his voice shaking. "He ran back into the flam

was scorched, his hair singed at the tips. Angry red burns blistered the back of his hands and neck. He looked exh

mo

ss? How could this desperate, trembling love coexist with such a cold, calculated betrayal? The contradiction wa

vering, a soft, timid vo

ax

t of me-the same dark hair, the same delicate features, but her eyes... her eyes were different. They held none of t

embrace vanishing as if it had never been there. He took a half-ste

ce strained. He turned back to me, his eyes plead

blatant, so insulting,

icate movements with her hands. Sign language. My blood ran cold. It was a private language Jaxon had cr

g our langu

. I didn't need to be fluent to understand the meaning. He was t

ne, breathtakingly soft smile touching

voice filled the silence, sweet and melodic. "He's kicking! Jaxon, he's kicking!" She looked down a

d chosen together. The nam

the staff, under his strict orders not to disturb him, hadn't called a doctor for hours. By the time they did, it was too late. I had miscarried our baby, alone in that cold,

a child with my replacement, using the

llow, echoing void. He wasn't complicated. He wasn't torn. He was simply a man who had moved on. His love, once a

left out i

ern. "Let's get you back to your room. You need to rest. I' ve arrange

al bow of her head. "It's a pl

-to-be. Not Ila. The demo

e felt like a loving embrace, now felt like a shroud. He guided me away, his arm arou

nts full of a gentle domesticity I had never witnessed. He, who had a

o her, his voice a low, intimate r

on her cheek. He treated her not like a priceless work of art to be admired from a di

me, the aroma rich and savory

spoonful of his own, blowing on it first to cool it down, his

f ash. My eyes were dry. My h

ved her. He truly,

I had to utterly and completely annihilate the woman he thoug

had ju

-