A Toast to the Wrong Wife

A heavy knot formed in my chest, but I kept telling myself there had to be some kind of mistake.

So, I ignored Vanessa and her friends' stunned expressions as I walked out of the airport and took a cab straight to the house my husband and I had shared before I left.

When Douglas Hayes, our longtime house manager, opened the door, a look of shock flashed across his face before he could hide it. "Mrs. Whitmore?" he stammered. "You're... You're back?"

He quickly took my luggage from me, but his eyes wouldn't quite meet mine. "You should've told us you were coming. Mr. Whitmore could've picked you up."

"I wanted to surprise him," I replied evenly.

Douglas gave an awkward laugh and carried my suitcase upstairs. "It's good to have you home. This place hasn't felt lived in for a long time."

Then, he hesitated. "Mr. Whitmore... has been so busy with work. He hasn't stayed here in months."

I stopped halfway up the stairs. "Months?"

I thought, 'That can't be right. I video-called Alexander just yesterday, and he was sitting in our bedroom.'

He had called me every single day throughout the five years I'd spent recovering overseas. He always asked about my treatment and reminded me to take care of myself no matter how busy he was.

I pulled out my phone and called him.

A few seconds later, Alexander's familiar, handsome face appeared on the screen.

"Hey, sweetheart." His smile was warm, his eyes filled with the same tenderness I remembered. "Calling at this hour? Do you miss me already?"

I opened my mouth to tell him I was home, but the words refused to come.

"Honey, I've been thinking about coming back," I said instead. "The doctor said—"

He cut me off before I could finish. "You're not fully recovered yet. Stay there and focus on getting better. Once the doctors clear you, I'll go right over and bring you home myself."

The sincerity in his eyes made every question I wanted to ask die in my throat.

He seemed to notice my silence. He merely fell silent for a moment before saying he had to get back to work, and ended the call.

That night, I didn't sleep a wink.

I told myself I was probably overthinking it. Alexander loved me. There was no way he would've cheated on me.

...

The first birthday party for Vanessa's son was set for the next evening at Crownmere, the city's most exclusive luxury hotel.

The moment I stepped into the ballroom, every head turned in my direction.

Vanessa stood at the center of the room, surrounded by wealthy socialites and society wives. When she saw me, satisfaction flickered in her eyes before she hurried over with an exaggerated smile. "Gianna! I'm so glad you came!"

One of her friends immediately let out a dramatic gasp. "Oh, my God! She actually showed up dressed like that?"

Another woman laughed. "Is she here for the birthday party or a job interview with the hotel?"

Vanessa lightly tugged at her friend's arm, pretending to scold her, "Don't say that. Gianna has always been careful with money. As her old classmates, we should be understanding."

Then, she turned toward the nearby guests and added loudly, "She can't help it. When you grow up as a housekeeper's daughter, you don't exactly learn much about high society. Just being invited here is probably a new experience for her."

I stared at her without expression, refusing to give her the reaction she wanted.

When she noticed that I was completely unfazed, Vanessa sighed theatrically. "Gianna, don't take it personally. They're only being honest."

Her smile widened. "Don't worry. I haven't forgotten my promise to find you some work."

She clapped her hands, and a hotel manager immediately approached, carrying a server's uniform.

"You should change into this," Vanessa urged, her voice dripping with condescension. "We're expecting a lot of guests tonight, so try to keep up. I'll make sure they pay you 100 dollars for the shift."

She leaned closer and spoke as though she were doing me an enormous favor. "You're only getting that rate because we used to be friends. Most people would kill for a connection like this."

Muffled laughter rippled through the crowd as contemptuous eyes swept over me.

"So, that's Mrs. Whitmore's poor college friend? She came here hoping to make connections, and Vanessa put her to work serving food. That's hilarious."

"A hundred bucks? Vanessa, you're far too generous."

"Haha! At least she'll get to spend one night around important people. This might be the highlight of her entire life."

A woman near the back gave me a disdainful once-over. "She's a housekeeper's daughter. Serving people is probably the only thing she's qualified to do."