Chapter 2:

VERA

Vera sat because she had no other choice.

Her body no longer felt like something she controlled. Her legs shook as she lowered herself onto the cold white iron chair, fingers gripping its arms until her knuckles numbed.

Didi took the seat opposite her.

Only then did Vera really look.

Her breath hitched.

Didi was wearing her dress. Not just something similar, hers. The same cut, the same fit. Her shoes. Her jewelry. Pieces of Vera’s life draped over another woman’s body, worn with careless ease.

The realization landed like a slow, sinking ache.

“Charles, honey,” Didi said sweetly. “Come sit.”

She glanced at Vera, lips curving faintly. “Our girl here is going to need support.”

Charles moved immediately.

Not toward Vera.

Away.

He dragged his chair farther back before sitting beside Didi, close enough that their arms nearly touched. His gaze flicked to Vera once, uneasy, then slid away.

Something inside her cracked.

“What… what is going on?” Vera asked. Her voice sounded small to her own ears. “Charles—why are you sitting with her?”

“When you speak,” Didi said calmly, “you speak to me.”

Vera turned sharply. “I’m not talking to you. Charles is my husband—”

“Ex-husband,” Charles cut in.

The word landed hard.

“What?” Vera whispered.

“I divorced you a year ago.”

Vera’s mind spun. A year ago… Her kidnapping had still been fresh. Her disappearance should have sparked searches, alerts, any effort to find her. But no one had cared, or maybe everyone had simply assumed she would never come back. And now… now Charles, the man she had loved, had legally severed her from his life while she was still missing.

Didi leaned back in her chair, her smirk widening, her eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction.

“Is it finally sinking in now, Vera?” Didi drawled. “Are all your questions finally getting answered?”

Vera’s stomach turned, bile rising, and for a moment the room seemed to shrink around her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to throw herself at Charles, to demand answers, to punish them both, but she felt paralyzed, trapped in a reality more brutal than any nightmare she had endured.

Her mind raced. Her heart screamed. And yet, all she could do was stare at the two of them, the people who had once meant everything to her, now reduced to enemies in the most intimate betrayal she could imagine.

“Why?” Vera’s voice cracked, weak and trembling.  Her lips quivered, and fat, hot tears rolled down her cheeks. “Why do this to me? What did I do to deserve this?”

Didi laughed. It was light and cruel and completely unbothered. Didi’s head tilted back, her hands clapping together, each clap punctuating the venom in her words.

“Why?” she repeated, mockingly, letting the syllables drag. She shrugged, as if it were all perfectly natural, perfectly justified. “Why not?”

“You weren’t here,” Didi continued, voice soft now, smooth and almost lazy. “He had always wanted me anyway. So… we decided to be together.”

Vera’s knees threatened to give out. She gripped the arms of the chair so tightly that her knuckles went white.

Didi leaned forward slightly, eyes glinting with a mixture of triumph and malice, as if savoring Vera’s torment. “Even you can’t question love, can you, Vera?” Her voice was both taunting and poisonous. “Love doesn’t wait. Love doesn’t care who it hurts. Love… just is.”

Vera’s chest tightened. “So you… took my husband from me? Stole my home? My clothes? Everything I own?” Her voice trembled with fury and disbelief, each word like fire ripping through her chest. “All because love doesn’t wait?”

Didi only shrugged, leaning back lazily, as if the destruction of Vera’s life were nothing more than a casual afternoon pastime.

Vera spun toward Charles, desperation burning in her eyes, expecting, and praying, for some spark of humanity, some sign that he might intervene. But he just sat there, still and cold, like a robot stripped of feeling.

“Oh, don’t look at him, Vera,” Didi said, hand wrist waving in the air “He can’t save you. He won’t. And if you think you have your father… think again. That ship sailed long before your disappearance.”

Vera blinked, shock mixing with confusion.

“Right now,” Didi continued, “he is now my stepfather. Yet still, technically… Charles’s in-law.”

Vera’s mouth fell open.

“Yes,” Didi said, leaning back, a cruel laugh spilling from her lips. “Your father married my mother. I married your husband. And now… we are one big, happy family.” She laughed again, long and cruel, each note slicing deeper into Vera’s chest.

Vera could not bear it. Her body refused to sit another second. She pushed herself up and, in a sudden, desperate surge, grabbed Didi by her hair.

Didi screamed, a high, sharp sound, and Vera slapped her hard across the face, cussing and shaking as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. “Why are you so wicked? What happened to our friendship, Didi?!” Vera cried, her voice raw with pain, fury, and disbelief. She shoved her again, her hands trembling with rage. Didi retaliated, cussing and clawing at Vera, but Vera’s anger only fueled her strength. She hit her, again and again, each strike punctuated by sobs, by curses, by the unbearable ache of betrayal.

Charles reacted suddenly. He lunged forward, pushing Vera away from Didi with force. Vera stumbled backward, hitting the floor hard, the impact knocking the wind from her lungs.

“What is wrong with you?” Charles yelled, his voice sharp and cruel. “How dare you touch my wife? Go back to the hole you crawled out from, Vera. No one wants you here!”

Vera froze for a second, disbelief and rage mingling as the room spun around her. She could see Charles, cold and unyielding, turning back to Didi. He brushed Didi’s hair from her face, gently petting her, smoothing her dress, his touch tender and careful as if nothing Vera had just done mattered.

That was the last straw.

She didn’t wait. She ran.

Her feet carried her without thought. The room, the house, the betrayal, it all became too much. Behind her, Didi’s laughter followed, mocking and relentless. “Run along now, Vera. Nobody gives a shit about you.”

Vera didn’t know where she was going. The world had narrowed to the ache inside her chest, the raw, burning pain of abandonment. Every step away from the house, away from the people she had loved and trusted, was fueled by heartbreak and fury. She didn’t care if a car hit her, if the pavement tore her apart, if anything ended the numb, hollow weight in her chest.

She stumbled through the same doors she had thought would grant her peace, pushing herself into the street. Her knees buckled, and she dropped, hands on the pavement, puffs of air escaping her in ragged sobs. The cries that tore from her throat were different from anything she had let out before, raw, deep, and hollowing cries that came from places she didn’t even know existed inside her.

Vera didn’t know where to go. She didn’t know who to trust, what to do. She forced herself to stand, trembling, her hands on her hips as she faced the ruined monument of what had once been her home. The place she and Charles had planned to settle, the home she had poured seventy percent of the payment into, the space she had dreamed of calling hers forever—it now mocked her. 

Every corner, every familiar object was a reminder of what she had lost and of the people who had abandoned her.

Her gaze drifted to the road. A car was coming at high speed, headlights blinding. She didn’t think. She closed her eyes and stepped into the path, welcoming the impact, imagining the sharp, physical pain replacing the ache inside her chest.

But the crash never came.

Her eyes snapped open. The car had stopped just inches away. Three men in casual clothes were striding toward her, moving with authority and purpose. Vera froze, confusion and disbelief anchoring her in place.

“Miss Vera Macthorn,” one of them said, voice steady and official. “You are under arrest for fraud and theft of company funds. Anything you say or do will be used against you in the court of law. Boys… take her.”