2: Bad Split

Valerie’s POV

‘I’m my dead sister's clone… A substitute bride!’

Goosebumps crawl along my skin as reality hits in full dose. Baron’s silence is all the answers I need.

“I want a divorce,” I mumble, broken.

“Vee,” he grips my arm. “We can sort this out…”

“We?” I choke on a laugh. “There’s no we, and stop calling me that.” I push him off and dash out of the garden. 

His footsteps pound as he runs after me. I double my pace. It's hard to see with the tears clouding my vision. Eventually in my room, I open the wardrobe, toss my empty box on the bed, and start throwing in anything I can lay my hands on.

Baron bursts in, covered in sweat… maybe his tears. Again, he tries to stop me but I smack his hand off, in full-blown rage.

“Stop, okay?” He blocks my way. “I won't let you leave, Vero…” 

Oh. My. God.

The silence that follows is deafening, it feels like the world stopped. I look away, blinking back tears. My tongue runs along my teeth as I try to put a hold on my emotions.

I slowly slip off my ring from my fingers and slap it on his chest. “I dare you to stop me, Baron.”

The ring falls to the ground and rolls off. Without sparing him another second, I continue parking. He moves around, mumbling inaudible apologies. When he finally leaves, the door clicks shut.

My heart drops in that instant.

Abandoning everything, I sprint for the door, and jar the knob, but it doesn't budge. My palm slaps the door in a series of loud bangs. 

“What are you doing? Open the damn door!” I growl and continue jacking, but the only thing that wears off is my energy. “Open the door!!!”

Broken and exhausted, I collapse in a heap and resume sobbing. Childhood memories of Veronica and me play in my head. She was sweet and overly protective. While I’m a shy introvert who only fantasizes about her dream man, Veronica preferred to tour the world rather than settle down.

‘It’s not her fault, Valerie.’ I repeat in my head while tears keep flowing. 

Penelope! Her thoughts hit me. She isn't Baron’s biggest fan so she will make sure to get me out of here. I rush up and run to the bedside stand in search of my phone.

“No. Please, no.” 

Going crazy, I toss the sheet aside, almost tearing down the room in search of my phone. 

‘Did he take it?’

Trying not to believe my thoughts, I crawl over to his side of the bed and start pulling out his drawers. Nothing! I don't stop.

I'm losing my mind.

Oddly, something snaps. The surface of the drawer beneath my fingers pushes down, revealing a small hole like a tunnel. Beneath it is a secretive third layer. My eyes roam the area. Without a second thought, I dip my hand in and take out whatever my hand lies on. 

It's Veronica’s photo and a small rusty pink notepad that seemed to have survived the fire incident that claimed her house a few weeks before her death.

Her diary!

It feels dusty. With my mind suddenly shifting towards curiosity, I flip through only to find all her entries torn out. Something doesn't feel right. I flip, eyes wide as an eagle. 

A few stuck pages make me stop. I hastily open them to emptiness. The last two pages that are firmly glued eventually open. 

Her write-up is large, like she is scared, and the once white sheet is stained with blood and yellowish fluid. 

‘I don't feel safe.

Valerie, if you’re reading this, it means I'm dead… Oh, god, he’s here!’

Soaked in her fear, I whip my head towards the door as if it's my reality. I palm my chest, trying to stop my racing heart. 

Slowly, Veronica’s revelation settles in. She didn't die of cancer. 

‘Did Baron kill my sister?’

Thick beads of sweat break out of my pores. I look back at the diary to see the date. It's the exact date of the setup between me and Baron.  And the same date she died.

No phone and in the house with the supposed killer, waves of panic attacks hit me. 

Obeying the rush of adrenaline, I search the whole place for escape. The raised blinds beckon. I grab my purse, hurry to the window, and peek out. Fear starts to creeple my courage. I'm on the last floor of a three-story building. 

It's either this or I die without giving Veronica justice. 

Bracing myself, I anchor my body to the window frame, throw a leg over the window, and jump, eyes shut, mouth pressed firmly to prevent myself from screaming.

I land with a heavy thud, falling face flat to the pebbled ground. My bones snap, sending jolts of pain through my body. My stomach hurts, aches bangs at the back of my head. 

Struggling to my feet, I sprint for the gate. Thankfully, it has a smart lock system. Out in the street in a ripped skirt and crop top that almost leaves me naked, I draw unwanted attention. Ignoring their stares and whispers, I flag down the first taxi. 

“MasCal Hospital.” I barely informed him before sliding into the back seat.

The driver nods and pulls onto the road. He tries to study me through the rearview mirror but decides not to speak. 

I open the diary, trying to find any clue, but the only entry left is the last one. The only reason it wasn't ripped off is that the person wasn't patient enough to view past the blank pages.

“We’re here, ma’am.”

Something feels wet on the seat. I probably have peed on myself from terror. Paying the driver, I rush down the walkway, heading towards the lobby when I bump into a hard mass.

“I’m sorry… I'm so sorry…” 

I stutter, barely looking at the tall man in front of me. Oddly, his face hardens like he’s in shock.

His face, he looks familiar…

“Veronica Hudson?” His baritone echoes in my head. “You’re not…” He stops to look at my leg. 

Quite terrified, I follow his eyes down to my bleeding leg from the broken lamp. Weirdly, blood drops on the white floor. It's not from my slit feet. My eyes follow up my thighs and I gasp.

“Hey,” his soothing voice returns. “Be calm, okay?”

I whimper and nod, freaking out. My day was so chaotic that my skin went numb to pain. Now, I feel my body give up on me as I slump, unconscious.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My eyelashes blink nonstop as I struggle to keep my eyes open. The blank face of the stranger makes me jolt up in bed. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, hand on my shoulder. 

“Why am I… What are you…” I can't get a sentence complete, still feeling dizzy.

“We had to admit you and run a few tests, Miss Veronica.” His tone is stable. “While your baby is safe, I’m sorry, you may have a high-risk pregnancy.”

Baby?!

My jaws drop. 

“What… What baby?”

“Oh,” he keeps a straight face. “Well, congratulations, you're four weeks pregnant.”