6: Reborn

Valerie’s POV

“This is a joke, right?” I try not to panic. “It has to be a joke.”

“Honey…”

“No!” I shut him out, causing the shower handle to fall, with water gushing out. “I heard you.” I look at the face of my supposed husband. “But all I can think about is how desperate you are to make me second place.” 

“Jeez, Valerie.” He combs his hand through his wet hair. “It’s to protect you.” He grips my shoulders and tries to shake me out of my madness. “I swear, I’d never do anything to hurt you.” 

The burning gaze of his blue eyes shows his genuine sincerity and the more I look at his pitiful stare, the more my walls crumble. 

‘Don’t be fooled, Vee!’ 

I shut my eyes to block off his effect like I’m being hypnotized. 

“Having you closer would make watching over you easy.” He stutters.

I gulp dryly and puff, ready to confront him. “And you can’t do that with me as your co-partner?” 

His eyes dim, showing his internal struggle. His grip on me gets tighter, begging me to just trust him. “Yes… But…”

“Get out.” My tone is cold and flat. “I don’t need a personal bodyguard and news flash.” I look down at my feet, watching the water pour away and his footsteps walking towards the exit. 

It’s heavy to handle our first real argument. For three damn years, I thought we made the picture perfect couple. We never quarreled so much. When we did, he played the lesser person just so I felt good. I did the same thing too, wore his bad choices of clothes he got… Heck! How could he be faking so much love?

Veronica won in her life.

No. I can’t be jealous of the dead, worse still, my dead sister.

I brush tears from my cheeks and face him. He’s already at the door. “Baron,” 

He stops when he hears his name, his eyes have the glimmer of hope. He leans by the door, ready to jump back in for a reconciliation bath, maybe good sex too.

“This will be the last time you’ll ever manipulate me.” I sniffle. “No more.” 

I watch the hope shatter, with his jaws hardening in a fake smile. He manages a nod and walks out, shutting the door after him. 

“Damn you! Damn everything!” 

I collapse on the ground, slapping my naked butt on the muddle of water as it splashes all over. Sobs jerk through my weak body, leaving me in a messy lump. My reflection stares right back at me in the full-length mirror. I’m more Veronica than me. This isn’t about erasing my sister, but about living my life… breaking Baron’s curse. 

Slowly sitting up, I wipe tears off my face and blow my nose. I’m done sulking. Letting the overdose of adrenaline control me, I pick up the scissors on the cabinet and start trimming my hair. I’ve always loved it bra-length but Baron wanted it as long as it could get. 

‘If it can be more, why settle for less?’ His exact words. 

Dumping the last strand on my feet, I pour shampoo on it, aggressively washing off the dye. The blonde color pools at my feet and flows away, rolling along every shred of what I used to be. 

Looking back at the ginger-haired lady in the mirror, with pale skin and puffy eyes, I hold back tears from rolling. I miss myself. Without controlling myself, I burst into tears. I’m torn between the guilt of throwing away the memories of Veronica and the happiness of being me.

“God, I hate you.” I sniffle, rubbing my face and sighing. The tip of my fingernails grabs my attention. I bite them like babies, clipping them off. Tonight, everything written by the manipulative devil gets taken off.

Done with my little show, I wash off and storm into the bedroom. The sight of his first reaction makes me chuckle. It’s like he saw a ghost. Left with no words, he just mops. 

“Shock, dear husband?” I scoff. “You’d better get used to it because I just got started.” I give him one last unapologetic look before walking out of his view.

The silence is thick between us, almost deadly even. I ignore the need to talk things out and focus on getting something comfy for the night. He’s even present in my wardrobe, down to my lingerie. Jeez! 

Finally seeing a loose pair of joggers and sweat shirt, I settle into it and crawl my tired ass in bed. Rules will be set, but for now, I stick my pillows in between us and lie in the opposite direction. 

“I know you don’t believe me, Valerie, but your comfort is my priority.” He gently adjusts the first one so it supports my head, then the second settles along my spine. 

The rustling of sheets accompanies him sacrificing his pillows as a boundary, but he slips closer to the edge, as close as he can get to me. “Good night.” He gently taps my arm and slightly strokes before pulling away. 

Wide awake, I pull the duvet to myself. My eyes stare hard at the wall before jetting into space. My mind studies his breathing. The memories of the day filter in, with the news of my pregnancy hitting harder. 

Abort it or keep it… I’m not sure. 

Right now, I need a bottle of heavy liquor, but I can’t, considering it is also a high-risk pregnancy. Bored and unable to sleep, I climb down from the bed, take my phone from the stand, and walk out of the room. 

The terrace is a good spot to reminisce but I don’t need anybody walking into my view or his assistant coming over to ensure if I’m fine. Settling to go to the backyard, I walk down the silent hallway. The door at the end of the floor is Baron’s study.

Suddenly stopping by the door, I change my mind and walk in. The air has the vintage smell of old journals. Nothing of interest. Over to his small erected table by the window, documents and folders are neatly arranged in a pile. In the middle are two photos facing down, with something written on the back of each. 

‘You are mine.’

‘You belong to me.’ 

My hands are trembling. I’ve never seen Baron in such a possessive aura… more like he’s an obsessed psycho. Trashing my fear, I flip the photos. 

Staring right at me are images of Veronica. Smiley and bubbly. 

I suck in air, putting a hold on my emotions. Amidst the jealousy and pain, my curiosity stands out. 

‘What if Baron killed her?… What if I’m married to the obsessed psycho?… Am I going to nurse a murderer’s baby?’

I’m damn scared. My hands are trembling. I put a call across to Penelope, but it jumps to voicemail. I tap and start recording.

“Messing around in a deadly game, I don’t know how much I have left…” My voice is frail. “… But if I die, love killed me.”