Paper Promise: The Substitute Bride - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

I arranged my clothes in the closet of the guest room. It was a vast space, almost unreal, but all my clothes and shoes fit through one door. All the other shelves remained empty, like a silent portrait of my current existence.
“Mrs. Laura, when will the other suitcases arrive?” The maid looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and pity.
“There are no more suitcases,” I replied without hesitation.
She opened her mouth as if to argue, but changed her mind. Her gaze roamed over the few clothes on the rack, understanding something she preferred not to name.
“If you need anything, just call,” she said, backing away discreetly.
“Where are the books here?” I asked, feeling a sudden need to find something familiar.
“On the second floor is the major library,” she explained. “On the third floor, there’s a smaller, more private one.”
Something in her tone made me raise an eyebrow.
“Reserved?” I asked.
The maid hesitated.
“It’s a private library,” she added hastily. “Mr. James’s.”
My interest immediately peaked. A private library, on the third floor. Exactly the place I needed to go.
I walked alone through the long corridors of the Reynolds mansion, since no one wanted to show me around. Everything was so big and luxurious. The third floor seemed different - less lit, quieter. A side corridor caught my eye, narrow and almost forgotten.
An old dark wooden staircase led me up a short flight of steps. At the top was a slightly ajar door.
My heart raced as I pushed it open.
The room was like a time capsule. Pictures of women were everywhere - she was young and smiling, at different points in her life. Delicate dresses hung in the closet, some still with tags. A desk with personal papers, a partially opened diary.
On the bedside table, a framed photo: James and her, smiling. Next to it, a small teddy bear, faded by time.
“Who are you?” I asked, looking at the picture.
I dabbed on a party dress, feeling the delicate fabric.
The door opened with a dry creek.
James stood there, his body filling the gap, icy blue eyes fixed on me. There was no anger on his face - something worse. An absolute emptiness.
“Get out of here now,” he said, his voice low and threatening.
I didn’t move. I couldn’t move.
For the first time, I saw a fracture in James’ mask - a muscle in his jaw that jumped, a wet glint in his eyes.
“James, I...”
“Now,” he repeated, the word laden with a pain he was trying to hide.
I ran and locked myself in my room and stayed there for the rest of the day.
…
I visited Alice late in the day. I needed to feel loved, and she was my only friend.
The aroma of coffee and new books filled the small bookshop as Alice leaned over the counter, her brown eyes fixed on me.
“Are you really going to quit your job because of that man?” Her voice trembled slightly, her hands clenching the already cold cup of coffee.
I felt a lump form in my throat. My fingers played nervously with the gold chain around my neck - a wedding present from James that felt more like a collar.
“I don’t have a choice,” I muttered, avoiding her gaze. “He’s my husband now; I have to obey him.” The words came out of my mouth bitterly, as if each syllable was a small defeat.
“But we need you here so much. You’re the soul of this place.”
Alice showed me the surrounding shelves, where I had organized every book for the last three years.
“I can take care of the reports while you find someone to replace me.”
“It won’t be the same.” Alice shook her head, an unruly curl of her red hair falling over her face.
“Alice, I’m sorry...” I hesitated, my gaze wandering to the bookshop window, where the rain was beginning to fall softly. A shiver ran down my spine as I thought about my next confession. “But I have the feeling that my marriage won’t last. He hates me and I don’t even know why.” My voice faltered on the last word, betraying the pain I was trying to hide. “And he loves another woman. I’ve seen her photos.”
Alice slammed her cup down on the counter.
“He’s an idiot. An idiot who doesn’t deserve a minute of your time.”
“I think he was hoping to marry Molly. She’s prettier and funnier than me,” I whispered, feeling the weight of this truth that I’d been carrying around for days.
Alice frowned, settling back in her chair. “Any news about your sister?”
“Eva says she’s in Paris.” My voice sounded distant at the mention of my older sister, as memories of our last conversation flashed through my mind.
“Laura,” Alice leaned forward, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret, “there’s something I don’t understand. Why did your sister run away?”
“Not to get married.” The short answer escaped my lips, bitter as gall.
She rolled her eyes, impatient.
“I know that! I didn’t understand why she didn’t want to marry James. He’s a jerk, but he’s a rich, handsome jerk. Molly loves money and luxury.”
Alice gestured with her hands, clearly frustrated by the mystery.
I bit my lip thoughtfully. “I didn’t understand it either, but I didn’t even have time to think about it.” There was something strange about this total story, a detail that had escaped me.
The sound of paper being unwrapped broke my thoughts. Alice slid a small picture frame across the counter, her eyes shining with restrained emotion.
“Here’s your wedding present.”
My hands trembled slightly as I picked it up. It was a picture of the front of a bookshop, old and charming, with large glass windows and a carved wooden door.
“What’s this?” I asked, my fingers tracing the frame of the picture frame, feeling every detail under my touch.
“The bookshop we’re going to buy when you get divorced.” Alice’s tone was firm, filled with a certainty that made me swallow.
“What’s wrong with that one?”
I ran my fingers over the image, feeling a tightness in my chest as I recognized the façade.
“Nothing.” Alice smiled, her eyes shining with that familiar enthusiasm that always appeared when we talked about our dreams. “I want to expand the business and you’ll be my partner. It was our plan all along.” His voice carried the promise of a future that seemed ever more distant.
A blue light flashed on my cell phone screen, interrupting that moment of hope. It was James.
“Where are you?”
My hands shook slightly as I typed the answer. “At the bookstore.”
His reply came almost instantly, cold and impersonal like all our interactions: “I’m having dinner with my secretary, don’t expect me and don’t bother me.”
I put my cell phone down on the counter with more force than necessary. I felt humiliated by that message and I didn’t even know why.