No Longer A Substitute

STELLA POV “Well, I'm sure you'll ask her. That is if you haven't already.” I said, folded my arms and walked into the kitchen, so many emotions were suffocating me all at once, I couldn't have a conversation with him. I went to the kitchen to pay attention to the food I was preparing. I heard Devon scoff behind me as I entered the kitchen and looked up to see Estelle with a smug look on her face, her arms crossed under her chest. “I’m back again, sister. Did you miss me?” I ignored her and started serving the dish. I set only two dishes on the table, for me and my husband. I lit up candles I had arranged around the dining table with rose petals to form a heart to set up a romantic mood.Devon came in and saw my preparations and decorations.I stared at him, waiting to see if he realized what today was.“Stella,” he began. “What is the meaning of this? Why did you set two plates? Estelle is here, is she not? Or is she not going to eat?”I frowned, “do you remember what today is?”

STELLA POV I found myself in a hospital bed when I woke up. I don't know when I passed out after Grandmother struck me. She must have been really angry to have hit me that hard. ‘Does she despise me this much?’ Grandmother was the matriarch of the family, and everyone wanted to be on her good side, including me. I've tried for years to gain her approval, but for some reason, she never seemed to like me. But when my sister came back, they fawned over her, including grandmother. ‘What makes people like my sister more than me? What draws them to her and makes them hate me instead? Why does everyone prefer her over me?’ “So you’re finally awake.” I heard my husband’s voice and immediately looked in his direction. He stood by the door. ‘Was he the one who brought me to the hospital?’ I wondered. ‘Did he turn back and bring me here instead of my sister?’ He walked over to me, “Seriously, Stella? What are you doing here?” he asked. ‘What was I doing here?’ I scoffed. So he wasn’t

STELLA POV My heart pounded violently in my chest as I knocked on the green metallic door in front of me.The coldness from the metal chilled my knuckles as I bit my lips, waiting for a response. Footsteps rushed toward it before the door swung open and Martha’s—my mother—face appeared.She frowned, “What are you doing here?” she opened the door wider, “Why didn't you tell me you were visiting—”She trailed off as her eyes dropped to the luggage at my side. Her thick brow furrowed, and her bright red lips pressed together. “Can I come in first?” I asked, my voice croaked.She hesitated but stepped aside anyway.“Okay. Start talking,” she said after she shut the door behind me.I took a sharp breath. My hands trembled, so I clasped them together to calm myself.“Can I at least have some water before we start?” I asked. She nodded, “Well, after you drink the water, start talking,” she said, arms crossed as I walked toward the kitchen.My hands shook as I poured myself a glass of wat

STELLA POV I was panting as I ran down the street, I gushed past unfamiliar buildings, block after block in a blur, trying to get as far away as possible from Martha’s house… and from Devon.Why did he even come after me?What does he want from me now?Did he find out I didn’t kill the baby?Is he trying to make sure the baby is aborted this time?He has Estelle with him. Why come after me? Why can’t he just leave me alone? If he wants nothing to do with this child, I can raise my baby on my own. I don’t need him.And Mother… I’m sure my mother called him. Did she contact him first or did he?But why would she even talk to him? When did she even leave the house? She must have sneaked out! That realization sent a surge of anger through me. Cars zoomed passed and some cars began turning on their headlights. But I didn't stop running.Why would she contact him behind my back? Didn't she agree to let me stay for two months?! I had almost forgotten about the letter I found. Why does

DEVON POV Before me is a long polished mahogany conference table. Seating in their high back leather executive chairs at the sides of the table are our twelve shareholders. Manger Noah from the marketing department stood in front of us, by the large display screen as he gave his presentation. Manager Noah pitched using an upcoming super model to advert for our fashion subsidiary. As he talked, I heard muffled coughs and the sounds of our secretaries typing away on their laptops. Also except Jonathan. I looked out the door to see if he's coming. The hallway was silent. From the fall to ceiling windows, I saw no one pass by. I cleared my throat and turned to the meeting, “Why should we use this model instead of our ambassador?” I questioned, cutting him off. He paused and stared at me for a moment, “I'll repeat again sir.” He walked closer to the table, backing the screen. “Sarah is young and upcoming, she'll help the company save money plus her younger fanbase will he