Chapter 3

I opened the door. Prescott looked me up and down and gave a knowing smile.

"So you're Leonardo's wife?" She paused. "No, ex-wife now."

I leaned against the doorframe and yawned.

"Who are you?"

Prescott tucked her hair behind her ear and began introducing herself. Between the lines, she hinted that she and Leonardo were childhood sweethearts.

Three years ago, Leonardo had gotten blind drunk because she went abroad.

Now that she was back, naturally Leonardo wanted a divorce.

Comments floated past:

[Leonardo's first love is so pretty!]

[Lawrence! Feel inferior!]

[Get your eyes checked. Lawrence is clearly prettier]

[No catfighting allowed! Also, I don't think they look alike at all?]

[I agree, they don't look alike. Is Lawrence really Prescott's substitute?]

Prescott pulled a photograph from her handbag.

It was a picture of her and Leonardo from high school.

Standing together, though Leonardo wasn't smiling, his eyes were noticeably softer.

Prescott's tone was gentle, but her gaze carried barbs:

"He never loved you. You were just a substitute."

I stared at the photo for three seconds.

"He was a bit heavier then, his face rounder."

Prescott froze.

I continued, "Thanks for telling me this. Otherwise I wouldn't have known what he looked like in high school."

"Can I keep the photo? I'd like a memento."

The comments livened up:

[??? Is that the point here]

[I can never follow Lawrence's train of thought]

[But somehow this is satisfying]

[Prescott is speechless]

Prescott's expression shifted. She said coldly:

"You're quite the oddball. But it doesn't matter—he's already chosen me."

"You know why he left you the villa? Because he's about to move into my house."

I tilted my head, thinking.

"Oh, that's good. He won't have to sleep at the construction site then. Hauling bricks is exhausting."

My tone was sincere, without a trace of jealousy. Prescott was completely speechless.

As she turned to leave, she threw out, "Someone like you deserves to be dumped."

The door closed. I leaned against it and slowly slid down to a squat.

It wasn't that I wasn't sad—my sadness just came half a beat slower than everyone else's.

I touched my still-flat stomach.

"Baby," I said softly, "your dad seems to be going off to be someone else's dad."

After spacing out for a while, I picked up my phone.

I wanted to message Leonardo to tell him I was pregnant.

Just as I unlocked the screen, comments suddenly scrolled:

[Oh my god! Leonardo really is hauling bricks!]

[His hands have blood blisters... But I looked ahead and Leonardo really does become ridiculously rich! Can someone explain what's going on?]

[Can't explain it, I want to know too]

[Prescott called Leonardo asking for his address and is now driving to the construction site!]

I stared at the comments, forgetting what I was about to do, but feeling somehow empty inside.

So I walked to the wine cabinet, wanting to pour myself a drink.

Comments floated past again:

[??? If Lawrence doesn't want to keep Leonardo's child she can terminate it, no need to deliberately drink alcohol! Poisonous woman]

[Right, Lawrence is pregnant but Leonardo doesn't know yet. In the later plot Leonardo has no children, so this baby definitely won't survive]

I froze mid-motion, silently put the wine back, and locked the wine cabinet.

Sitting on the sofa, I contemplated what to do about this child.

My phone suddenly vibrated. Leonardo sent a message:

"Remember to eat dinner. Don't drink on an empty stomach. Don't play with your phone with the lights off. And don't stay up too late."

I stared at it for a while, suddenly reluctant to terminate this pregnancy.