Paper Promise: The Substitute Bride - Chapter 13: Chapter 13

When I opened my eyes, the morning light was already flooding the room. My phone was blinking insistently with several notifications — all from Alice.
“So? How was the night? I need details!” “What happened after I left? Was Annie furious?” “Laura, for the love of God, answer me! I am dying of curiosity.” “Shall we have lunch today? I have a reservation at the French Bistro at 1 p.m.”
I sighed, thinking about how to summarize the disaster of the previous night. My fingers hovered over the screen before typing a simple: “Yes, let’s. I have a lot to tell.”
The idea of leaving the safety of my room made me nauseous. Outside awaited the inquisitive eyes of the Reynolds family, the tension with James, and worse, the possibility of running into the woman who had slept with him.
I pulled the blanket over my head, wishing I could dissolve into the comforting darkness of the bed.
But the illusion of refuge did not last long. Three sharp knocks on the door announced the end of my hiding place.
“Laura.” James’s voice cut through the wood with his usual coldness. “I have been waiting for you for ten minutes.”
“James?”
“I need you to drive my car. I gave the driver the day off. Hurry up,” he said harshly, knocking on the door again.
I got dressed in record time, choosing the first outfit I found in the closet. I ran a brush through my hair, applied lipstick, and went down the stairs as if escaping a fire.
In the living room, Catherine Reynolds and her daughter Margareth were talking, and their gazes lifted simultaneously when I crossed the room.
“Good morning, Catherine. Good morning, Margareth,” I mumbled quickly, avoiding eye contact as I headed to the door.
“Laura.” Catherine’s voice froze me in place. “Did something happen with Annie last night?”
I hesitated, my hand already on the doorknob. “I do not believe so,” I replied with forced casualness.
She placed her teacup down with a delicate clink.
“That is strange. Her father called me at six in the morning, very upset, talking about an incident in the garden.” Her eyes, as sharp as her son’s, fixed on mine. “Why are you lying to me?”
Silence hung between us. Margareth watched the scene with barely disguised interest, her expression shifting between curiosity and disdain.
I took a deep breath, feeling the air fill my lungs with momentary courage.
“It did not seem appropriate to discuss it here,” I said, meeting Catherine’s gaze for the first time that morning. “There are... details that deserve discretion.”
Something shifted in Catherine’s expression. The harsh lines around her mouth softened, and a silent understanding passed between the two of us — women who knew all too well the price of secrets in that family.
“You did the right thing,” she said finally, nodding. “You may go. James is waiting.”
Outside, the impatient honk of the car confirmed her words.
I slid into the driver’s seat without saying a word. The interior of the car was filled with James’s expensive cologne and another softer scent that did not belong to me. I adjusted the mirror, buckled my seatbelt, and started the engine, all in mechanical movements, while James checked his wristwatch impatiently.
“I am late,” he stated curtly, as if it were my fault.
I kept my eyes fixed on the road ahead of us. It was not jealousy that kept me from looking at him, that feeling did not exist between us. It was something deeper, more visceral. The night before, Annie had tried to throw herself into the well in the Reynolds’ garden. And now, sitting beside me, the man responsible for that despair casually adjusted his tie knot, concerned only with his schedule for the day.
The complete absence of remorse left me anguished. How could someone remain so unshaken when their actions had almost cost a life? I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my fingers turned white, trying to contain the words that threatened to spill out. Not because I feared his reaction, but because I knew they would be useless. For James, people had always been disposable pieces on his personal chessboard.
The silence between us was broken by James’s voice. Surprisingly, there was no irritation in his tone, only calculated coldness.
“You did well at last night’s dinner,” he commented, looking out the window as we passed a row of maple trees. “Everyone praised you. In fact, you surprised me.”
His words were a hook, and I still felt tempted to bite the bait. A compliment from James always carried a price. I kept my eyes on the road, but I felt a bitter smile form on my lips.
“I am sure you were expecting a misstep so you could laugh,” I replied, allowing only a fraction of the bitterness I felt to show.
James turned slightly in my direction. In his profile, I could see the slight curve of his lips — that half-smile that never reached his eyes.
“Perhaps...” he admitted, the word hanging in the air like a veiled confession of his intentions.
I braked gently at the red light, aware that this brief moment of honesty was probably the closest we would get to a real conversation today.
“I am having lunch with Alice. It has been a while since I saw her.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the movement of James turning toward me. His gaze weighed on me like a physical shadow, restless, searching for words.
“About Annie...” His voice dropped an octave, losing that businesslike tone. “It is not what it seems.”
A dry laugh escaped my throat before I could stop it.
“I am sure the truth is far worse than I imagine.”
“She was—”
“No.” I cut him off with a firmness that surprised us both. “Do not you dare speak badly of another woman to me. Not after what you did.”
Silence filled the car as we waited for the light to change. When he spoke again, his voice carried a fragility I had never heard from him before.
“Actually, I wanted to thank you,” he said, looking down at his hands. “The senator told me what you did. How you stopped her.” A pause. “I am not a monster, Laura.”
Our eyes met in the windshield’s reflection. For the first time, I did not see calculation or manipulation in his eyes, only a man confronting the consequences of his actions. I felt my heart begin to settle, not with forgiveness, but with crystalline clarity.
“If you are not a monster,” I replied softly, “give me the divorce. Set me free from this marriage.”