Page 20 of The Call She Made That He Never Answered
Dawn crept in outside.
I wiped tears, changed, and headed to the drugstore for a test. Needed answers to plan.
I slipped out the manor's back door, dodging servants—the place was huge; I could vanish all day unnoticed.
Half an hour later, inside the store. Doors hissed shut behind me, mint and antiseptic hitting. As I neared the shelves, whispers floated from behind.
"Did you see the morning paper? Rockefeller's CEO. God, he's hot!"
"And that stunner next to him, like an engagement photo!"
"Wait, isn't his wife someone else? She picks up meds here all the time."
"Just some lucky average chick. Pretty face got her married, but once he's bored, bye-bye!"
"Yeah, rich guys marry and divorce like it's nothing."
I froze by the glass case. They hadn't noticed me. Wanted to call out, but choked—were they talking about me?
Rustling behind the shelf. A middle-aged woman shot up, panicked, holding pill boxes.
"Mrs... Mrs. Rockefeller?" Their eyes darted like startled cats.
They knew me. I fought the urge to bolt. I needed my stuff. "Three different pregnancy tests, please."
My face burned from neck to scalp as their words replayed: paper, Rockefeller, other woman.
She handed over the boxes. My legs carried me to the newspaper rack. Didn't even grab it—the front page photo screamed.
Half the damn page.
I stared: Crystal chandeliers gleaming. Lucas in a tailored dark suit, chin up, all elite aloofness. Vivian looped on his arm, leaning in, eyes sparkling with joy.
Picture-perfect like a magazine cover. No wonder it headlined. Sales would skyrocket. Everyone seeing Lucas and Vivian, thinking: what a match!
His words from that fight with Mr. Rockefeller echoed: Vivian was the one fit to be his wife.
He didn't just say it. He showed the world. She was his real love.
Me? Just a forgotten nobody rotting in the manor.
The store went dead quiet.
I felt their stares burning—strangers gawking at my mess. My stomach churned, acid rising. Morning sickness or pure disgust? Who knew.
"Can I use the bathroom?"
She pointed. I staggered in.
In the stall, I slumped against the door, sliding down. Thought I'd cry, but no tears. My chest burned, something igniting.
Anger.
Hot enough to torch every feeling for Lucas.
Last night, I'd tangled love and hate, pitifully hoping he'd turn back. Now? All gone. I wouldn't give a damn about his moods, his life, or who he fucked.
It was over. I cut ties. Lucas, my husband, meant nothing anymore.
