Chapter 3

Lila

I swirled my glass filled with champagne, bringing it to my lips. Sweetness coated my tongue as I sipped the drink.

"Cheers." I said. "To victory." I lifted my glass like one performing a toast, a smirk hanging at the corner of my lips.

"Poor Isabelle." I shook my head slowly.

The scene replayed in my head. The way she gasped when she saw me, wide-eyed. The hideous look on her face when I clung to Jason.

I barked a harsh laugh.

My gaze turned cold. "It's your turn to feel what you put me through all these years."

I lost my parents in a car accident when I was barely five. My aunt and her husband took me in and raised me alongside their only child, Isabelle.

We were about the same age, with her, a few months older. She had been the perfect one all her life, blessed with extraordinary beauty. Handsome boys chased her like gold. She got the best grades in school. Finally, she got married to one of the wealthiest men in the country.

No matter how I tried, she was always steps ahead of me. Her parents tried their best to raise us in love without showing favouritism. Yet, they couldn't hide it completely—their preference of her over me. I couldn't blame them though after all, the world had chosen to favour her.

She wasn't a bad sister. She loved me in her own way. I mean, she loved too easily. But how could I reciprocate that love when all I saw was competition to get the best life?

"Not anymore." I smiled.

I had planned so much for this, put in so much effort to get here. To shatter her perfect world into pieces. To claim her happiness and hardwork. To enjoy the fruits of her labour. And I had succeeded.

I sipped from my glass again, savouring the sweet taste of victory. I gulped the rest of the fluid quickly, dumping the glass in the kitchen sink.

The early morning sun streamed into the kitchen through the glass windows, casting a warm glow on the utensils.

A delicious aroma wafted through the kitchen as I prepared a breakfast of toast bread, scrambled eggs and cheese.

"Good morning Jay." I flashed a sweet smile, while I set down loaded plates on the dining table.

"Good morning." He answered, his tone distant and lacking warmth as he descended the last set of stairs that led to the sitting room.

He was dressed for work, clad in an expensive black suit jacket atop an immaculate white shirt. He adjusted his tie, running his hand over the white and black stripes. He dipped his head, probably checking the time on the gold watch that clung to his wrist. His expression was stoic, unreadable as he sent a quick look in my direction.

I offered a thin smile."Breakfast is ready."

He walked past me barely sparing a glance as he made for the door.

"Babe? Won't you have breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry." He replied, curtly.

He stepped out and slammed the door shut.

I flinched at the harsh sound, my face falling at his indifference. I clenched my fist with pressure, my nails digging into my palm.

I thought I had won. Why then was he giving me attitude?

I ate breakfast silently, my thoughts circling like restless birds. I cleared the table and proceeded to wash the dishes.

Around noon, while I relaxed on the couch in the sitting room, the door burst open and Jason walked in. His expression was uptight, his jaw clenched as he mummured something between gritted teeth. Had he been angered at work?

He ascended the flight of stairs quickly. Then, I heard a door bang shut.

What the hell was going on?

After a few minutes, I padded barefoot, climbing the stairs slowly. I gave a small knock at the study before pushing the door open.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, without looking up.

"Babe, I–" I trailed off.

I walked in, my eyes raking over the contents of the room. I caught sight of a glass, half-filled, in his hand, a bottle of liquor resting on the table, beside a photo album.

"What are you doing, Jay?" I made to snatch the glass from him but he drew it back, away from my reach.

"Don't." He warned, his voice hoarse.

I stepped forward, my gaze settling on the album. My eyes went wide for a bit as I saw their wedding pictures.

"Why are you doing this, babe?" I let my voice crack.

He whipped up his gaze, staring at me. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that I didn't quite catch.

"What is it Lila?"

I didn't answer, instead I moved across the room and stood by his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. He went stiff for a moment, side-eyeing me.

I moved behind him, slowly, my steps deliberate, bringing my hands to the back of his neck, stroking softly. He tensed at my touch before easing into it.

He heaved a sigh. "You sure have magic hands."

I smiled at the compliment. "Thanks babe."

"What bothers you, my love?" I asked softly, injecting so much affection into my words.

"I—Nothing." He gazed intently at the album again. I followed his line of sight and bitterness churned in my guts. Isabelle.

"Why do you worry over her? She's not worth your time, Jay." I almost spat the words.

"Easy for you to say." He shrugged my hands off, rising from the seat. He spinned to face me.

"She was my wife, Lila. For four years. Four whole years. How am I supposed to pretend that she didn't exist all of a sudden?" His voice cracked for a bit.

"We don't have time for this Jason." My tone was sharp now. "She couldn't give you what you needed–what I gave you."

I rested my hand on my protruding belly as if to make a point. His eyes settled there for a moment, softness flashing in his expression. Then, his gaze went cold.

"Leave, Lila. I want to be alone."

"Baby, I–"

"Leave." There was finality in his tone.

I spun on my heels, walking out but making sure to sway my hips.

I thought I had won. Why did it seem like I was still chasing him?