His other Woman

Alice’s POV

The next morning, I woke to the soft shuffle of footsteps. My eyes fluttered open just in time to see Vicent stepping out toward the balcony, his phone pressed to his ear.

My heart missed a beat. He never went out there unless he wanted privacy—unless he wanted to make a call.

I pulled my knees to my chest, sitting on the bed silently, my breath caught in my throat. Through the open glass doors, his voice drifted back to me, low and tender, almost a whisper.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there… Make sure you take care of yourself… I won’t be late, I promise.” His tone softened, almost coaxing. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer you yesterday.”

Each word sliced through me. My chest tightened as though invisible hands were squeezing the life out of me. That wasn’t the way he ever spoke to me.

With me, he was cold. Short replies, rude retorts, or sometimes complete silence—walking away and leaving me standing there, looking foolish. But with her, his voice turned into honey. Gentle. Patient.

I pressed my hand hard against my heart. The pain was unbearable.

He spoke for hours—or it felt like hours—while I sat there, his wife, carrying his children, listening to his affection flow to another woman.

---

My mind pulled me back to years ago, to when I was still in high school. My father’s company was struggling, money was scarce, and he sent me to stay with my mother. I had hesitated, but he promised he would take me back once things stabilized. I believed him.

That was when I met her—my stepsister, Lillian Brooklyn.

The first time her sharp eyes landed on me, she sneered. “Just because you’re Mother’s child too, you think you can have anything you want?”

I had stared at her quietly, biting my tongue. I was older by a year, but it didn’t matter. Lillian always got what she wanted. She made my life miserable, sending senior girls in school to bully me. Eventually, I broke down. I couldn’t take it anymore. I left my mother’s house and never looked back.

At least my father’s sisters took me in. They helped me through college, supported me until I could stand on my own. But the real storm came when I couldn’t get a job. And then… when Father fell terribly ill.

I had called my aunts, begged them, but none answered. I didn’t blame them—they had already done so much. But Father’s medical bills were far too heavy.

---

The sound of Vicent’s voice snapped me back to the present. He walked into the room, still on the phone, passing right by the bed where I sat.

“I’ll make a reservation for you at your favorite restaurant… to make it up to you,” he murmured.

Snap. Something in my brain snapped.

In front of me—his wife—he was coaxing another woman. I swallowed hard, my throat burning. My lips trembled with words I couldn’t speak. The announcement I had wanted to make—the one about our children—died in my chest.

I said nothing. Just stared at him.

The room felt too small, the walls pressing against me. My lungs screamed for air. I stood abruptly and walked past him, pushing open the balcony doors. Cold wind slapped my face, sharp and merciless, dragging a sob from me before I could stop it.

The city lights twinkled below, as if mocking me. As if there was nothing wrong in the world.

---

The balcony door slid open again. Vicent’s tall figure stepped out.

“You look sick,” he remarked, his gaze flicking over me. His voice was flat, devoid of the warmth I had just heard minutes ago. “You should go see our family doctor.”

I turned my face away, wiping at my eyes quickly, but I knew he could still see the pale, ghostly reflection of me in the glass door.

“Don’t disgrace the Markston family with your ghost look,” he added coldly.

My control snapped.

I spun around, eyes burning. “Would you say this to Lillian?” I asked, my voice trembling with hurt.

His jaw tightened. His eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare call her name. You’re not worth it.”

The words pierced me deeper than knives.

“Oh, right. I forgot.” My voice shook, breaking apart. “This is all just a marriage of convenience. An arrangement.” My words trailed off into a bitter laugh. “I’m not worthy. I’m just the girl you married because you needed a stand-in. A cover. An executive designer playing your wife in name only.”

“This was what you signed up for. Don’t act like you were forced into it,” Vicent snarled, his voice sharp enough to cut skin.

I let out a laugh, but it came out more like a cry. “A stand-in. A contract. That’s what our two years of marriage mean to you?”

He stared at me, cold as ice. “Exactly. That’s what it is. No feelings attached. Make sure you always remember rule number one.”

Rule number one.

At the mention of it, my hands moved instinctively to my stomach. Panic gripped me. He didn’t notice—didn’t care. He just turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, as if I were something that irritated him.

---

I stumbled back into the bedroom and collapsed under the covers. My tears, the ones I had been holding back all night, finally broke free.

My mind replayed two years ago, when the scandal broke in his company. The shareholders and executives had pressured him to marry. They needed to divert attention, to calm the chaos.

Lillian had been terribly ill then. My father too. And I had been vulnerable, desperate for money. I worked myself to exhaustion—waitressing, cleaning, tutoring—but it was never enough.

Until one day, I received a message from NTX Company—Vicent’s company. They told me I was employed.

I hadn’t even submitted a résumé. How had they known about me?

Later, I found out. It was all Lillian’s doing. She wanted me to suffer, to live as someone’s stand-in. To marry into a life that was nothing but a cage.

---

The sound of a car engine roared from outside. I froze under the blanket.

Of course. He was leaving. Off to see his heartthrob. He had already made reservations for her. Wonderful.

I pressed my phone to my ear, calling my assistant. My voice was steady, even though my heart felt shattered. “I won’t be coming to work today. I’m… not well. Please mark me down.”

After the call, I scrolled into my gallery. My fingers hovered over one picture, then stopped.

The ultrasound.

Two tiny dots on the screen. My babies. My light.

Tears blurred my vision as I hugged the blanket tighter around me, pressing the phone to my chest. “You’re my all,” I whispered to the picture, a shaky smile breaking through. “My everything. I promise… I’ll protect you. Even if it costs me my last breath.”