Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 60711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“As you know, I love being the center of attention—”
Everyone laughed, Andie herself included.
“—so I’ll keep this brief.”
While Paul was no introvert, he was also rather notorious for keeping the press out of his personal life.
“My reason for donating to Full Term goes almost four decades back. Lack of support, mental health problems, financial challenges—there was a lot of factors were in play, and so while I don’t condone her decision, I can understand why my biological mother, a young girl herself, not even eighteen—attempted to have me aborted—”
Gasps broke out from the crowd at his revelation, but this time, Andie was unable to make a sound.
“And failing that, she gave me up to Social Services instead.”
Andie bit her lip hard, but this didn’t stop it from trembling.
“I’ve been pretty open about growing up in foster care, so that part of my life shouldn’t be new to most of you. But what I’ve never shared until now is how I’ve always known why I ended up that way—and I know I’m going to sound like a vengeful bastard in admitting this, but that also caused me to have a distorted view of the opposite sex in general. I was even convinced that I’d never trust any woman. But I was wrong.”
As Paul slowly turned her way, everyone also followed suit, and Andie could no longer keep the tears at bay.
“Everything I thought I knew...everything I thought I was sure of...everything changed when I met her.”
No.
God.
No no no.
The look in his eyes...
It was that look.
The one she had been so afraid to put a name to.
Because if it was true—
“Andromeda, my beloved wife.”
Then it was something a liar like her could never deserve.
Paul handed the microphone back to the host, and as everyone around her broke into applause—
Oh God, how?
Her shoulders started shaking at the strength of her sobs.
How did she make this right?
It felt like an eternity had passed before she was able to regain just enough composure to wipe the tears away. Her legs felt like jelly as Andie forced herself to rise, her knees knocking against each other with every step she made.
There was still a huge crowd between Paul and her. Everyone wanted to be near him again, but this time, the reason was easy to see. To feel.
People gravitated toward him without Paul even trying because of who he was. He was and had always been special. He was a cut above the rest, and more so now with how his words had touched everyone else’s hearts...while breaking hers.
AS SHE CONTINUED TO make her clumsy way to Paul’s side, the other guests began to realize who she was, and Andie herself was waylaid with words of praise and requests for having their picture taken with her. She was Paul Mitropoulos’ wife, and thus someone to be seen with by association alone.
It took so much longer than she expected to get close to him, but when Andie was finally within a few steps from where he stood—
Please, God.
Be with me.
Please.
She was about to take another step when another woman came up to him—
“Congratulations, darling.”
No no no no no no no
Andie’s heart dropped to her stomach...while her steps slowed to a crawl.
Joyce.
Her aunt.
She was back.
Chapter Fifteen
JUST LET IT BE.
Joyce had just placed a lingering kiss on his cheek, and while distaste nearly had Paul pulling away—
Remember who she is.
Common sense held him back just in time, and he was able to just stay still—
This woman was his wife’s aunt.
—and keep his face expressionless when she finally pulled back.
Andromeda?
She stood a short distance away from them, frozen and strangely pale, and his gaze narrowed.
What’s wrong, koukla mou?
Something was bothering his wife, and once he found out whatever—whoever—it was, he would get rid of it.
Joyce wanted to scream.
She wanted to tear her hair out in rage, wanted to claw at something, wanted to destroy the way she’d been destroyed when that simpering voice on the phone had delivered the news in Monte Carlo.
Paul prefers you to be his aunt instead.
But she was Joyce Bernard.
She did not scream.
She did not lose control.
She turned around, following Paul’s gaze, and of course—of course—it was none other than her own fucking flesh and blood he’d been staring at, and the look on his face, dammit...
It said everything, and her anger hardened into jealous rage.
You little bitch.
Joyce felt something dark and cold crystallize in her chest as she watched her niece approach. Bargain-bin clothes replaced by a dress so damn expensive that even Joyce herself wouldn’t be able to afford it. But so what?
Trash was trash no matter how you dressed it up.
And Joyce would not rest until she had thrown this traitorous piece of trash back into her obscure little town in Kansas, where she was meant to rot for the rest of her life.