Paper Promise: The Substitute Bride - Chapter 15: Chapter 15

After lunch with Alice, I felt a tightness in my chest that prevented me from returning to the Reynolds’ mansion. Not now. I needed some air, some space to organize my thoughts and understand what kind of shady dealings my father had with James.
When I arrived in front of the house where I grew up, my heart ached again. The garden, which used to be full of flowers, was abandoned and overgrown with weeds. The windows were obscured by a layer of dirt.
Before I could use my key, the door opened. Eve appeared, her heavily made-up eyes wide at the sight of me.
“Laura, what a lovely surprise,” she said, nervously adjusting the silk robe that barely covered her slender body. “I didn’t know you were coming. You could have warned me.”
Her breath carried the unmistakable sweet scent of a martini, even though it wasn’t yet three in the afternoon.
I entered without waiting for an invitation, my eyes roaming around the living room. Piles of mail were piled up on the coffee table, ashtrays overflowed with cigarette butts, and dirty bowls decorated every available surface.
“What happened to the house? It’s a mess,” I asked, unable to hide the shock in my voice.
Eve shrugged, a casual gesture as she closed the door behind her.
“We don’t have a cleaner,” she replied with a mischievous smile. “You were the one who cleaned and cooked, darling.”
The words carried enough venom to remind me of my past. I was never treated like a daughter; I was treated like a slave.
“With all that money I gave you yesterday, you could have hired a helper and a gardener.”
I ran my finger over the entrance table, where a layer of dust marked my hand.
Eve let out a short, artificial laugh.
“Silly,” she replied, pronouncing the word as if I were a naïve child. “That money was for another, much more urgent purpose.”
“Botox.”
“Laura, did you come all this way to check up on us?”
She crossed her thin arms over her chest. Then her tone softened, falsely maternal.
“And Molly, poor thing, was completely out of money. You know how things are these days. Hotels are very expensive.”
I looked around the deserted room. “Isn’t my dad here?”
“Your father needs to have some fun.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Is he in the casino again?”
Without an answer, I approached her, purposely reducing the space between us to see her reaction. Eva’s sweet, cloying perfume mingled with the smell of drink.
“Eva, I need to ask you something; why didn’t Molly want to marry James?” I asked, observing her face. “He’s handsome and rich. He seems like the kind of man you’ve always wanted for your daughter.”
Eve made a dramatic eye roll and strolled to the bar in the room’s corner. With precise movements, she poured herself a generous shot of martini, her long red nails tinkling against the crystal.
“And who’s in charge of the heart, darling?” she replied with false melancholy, bringing the glass to her crimson-painted lips. “Molly is in love with a musician. An extraordinary talent, according to her.” Her voice carried barely disguised disdain.
I didn’t believe that answer.
“I know Molly. She doesn’t fall in love with anyone,” I replied dryly. “She calculates every step she takes. Just like you taught her.”
“Do you think I wouldn’t have wanted my daughter to marry James Reynolds?” Eve retorted, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I’m sure you do. You wouldn’t miss an opportunity like that.”
The martini swirled dangerously in the glass as she gestured.
“My Molly would have made James fall in love with her in no time.” She leaned towards me, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I know you sleep in separate rooms. A waste, don’t you think, darling?”
I kept my expression neutral, although I could feel the blush creeping up my neck. The comment had hit its target, as Eve knew it would. But I hadn’t come here to discuss my marriage. There were more urgent issues.
“Eva,” I said, deliberately changing the subject. “What kind of business did my father have with James?” I watched her closely, noticing how her fingers tightened on the cup. “Do the Reynolds have a casino, by any chance? I heard about an old debt between them.”
The effect was instantaneous. Eva’s face, normally animated by a calculated expression, froze like water in the middle of winter. The meddling stepmother mask fell away, revealing something I rarely saw in her eyes - genuine fear.
“I don’t meddle in your father’s business,” she replied, her voice losing its usual melodious cadence.
She turned abruptly, placing the glass on the bar with enough force for the liquid to overflow.
“You know my father’s every move,” I insisted, advancing towards her. “Every move, every deal, every penny that goes in or out of his account. You’ve always known everything.”
Eve stood with her back to me, her shoulders tense under her silk robe. The silence between us outweighed all the words exchanged so far.
“What does it matter?” Eve finally turned around, pulling herself together with visible effort. Her smile was back, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re a Reynolds now.” She appraised me from top to bottom, as if measuring the value of my dress. “Worry about having a child and making sure you stay in that family. That’s what any intelligent woman would do.”
Her words hit a nerve that I didn’t even know existed. My fists clenched involuntarily.
“I want a divorce,” I declared, the words escaping before I could contain them.
Eve let out a dry laugh, like paper being crumpled.
“Why are you always so pathetic?” Her eyes narrowed in contempt. “Just like your mother. Wasting opportunities because of... what? Principles?”
She pronounced the last word as if it were a disease.
“Stop talking about my mother,” I warned, my voice low and dangerous.
Eve ignored the warning, approaching with calculated steps.
“Your mother was a fool who cried all the time and didn’t know how to defend herself. Your father needed a real woman by his side, not a porcelain doll who would break at the drop of a hat.”
I took a deep breath, holding back the storm that was threatening to overwhelm me.
“My mother was a talented dancer.”
“She was?” Eve scoffed. “What did that get her? Or you?”
I realized then that I would never get answers from her. Eve was a wall of lies, protecting secrets that I would have to find out by other means.
“Laura,” she sighed theatrically, glancing at her wristwatch. “I’m very busy. Could you come back another time? Maybe call before you come?”
Without replying, I turned my back on her and went to my old room, feeling her gaze following me. The dark corridor still had the musty smell I remembered.
My old room remained practically untouched - not out of sentimentality, but out of sheer disinterest. Under the bed, I found what I had come for: the photo album I had left behind in the rush of that forced marriage, and the box with my mother’s sneakers - the only object I had of hers after Eve “cleaned” the house, throwing away all the memories of a time before her arrival.
I hugged the objects to my chest, feeling the weight of the memories they carried.
There was more to this story than Eve wanted to admit, and I was determined to find out.