“Doris, sweetheart… don’t you think it’s time we seriously consider adoption?”
I glanced up at Ronnie from my seat in the wheelchair. His gaze was hopeful, lips curled into that warm, too-perfect smile he wore like a mask. I’d known this conversation was coming. He had been laying the groundwork for days—showing up with breakfast trays, fluffing pillows, doting on me like I was the love of his life.
Too bad I already knew who he truly loved.
He had been secretly meeting with Margaret—the Krystale woman he was planning to marry while parading me around as his fiancée. The woman for whom he’d orchestrated every lie, every betrayal, right down to the wedding we were never truly going to have.
But I didn’t care anymore. I was healing—slowly regaining strength in my legs. My body, once broken, was beginning to remember how to move. I hadn’t told Ronnie about that progress. Why would I? He’d lost the right to know anything about me.
If he wanted to rush into adoption to complete his little charade, I would let him. I’d smile. I’d agree. And I’d use every second to regain control of what he thought he’d stolen.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” I replied, curling my lips into a soft smile.
He looked stunned for a moment. “Seriously? Just like that?”
I nodded, playing the role of the agreeable fiancée. “You're right. We should take the next step. If children aren’t in the cards biologically, then adoption is a good path. Besides…” I glanced down at my lap, feigning vulnerability. “Being stuck like this... it’s been depressing. A baby might give me something to look forward to.”
He let out a visible breath, his shoulders lowering. “Good. That’s great, actually. I’ve supported an orphanage for years. We could head there today, meet some of the kids.”
Today? He had this planned down to the hour.
Still, I nodded. “Sure. Let’s go.”
The orphanage was everything a brochure would boast: warm, welcoming, full of light. Children’s laughter echoed in the halls, and colorful murals lined the walls. Staff smiled politely as we entered, their expressions a mix of curiosity and polite interest.
Then it happened.
A little girl with big, expressive brown eyes and bouncing curls dashed through the room. She didn’t hesitate—ran straight into Ronnie’s arms.
“Daddy!”
The word pierced through me.
She threw herself around his waist, hugging him tightly like a child who had done this many times before.
Ronnie stiffened. “Doris, don’t overthink it,” he said, quickly peeling the child’s arms off him. “The kids here call me ‘Dad’ because I donate regularly.”
“Of course,” I said, forcing a serene expression. “That’s very sweet.”
The little girl—her name was Krystal—grinned up at him with a familiarity that made my stomach churn. Her features, her eyes, her smile... she didn’t just resemble Ronnie.
She looked like Margaret.
“She’s a sweetheart, isn’t she?” Ronnie asked, clearing his throat.
“She actually looks a lot like you,” I said, tilting my head, watching his reaction.
Ronnie laughed nervously. “Well, that just means she’ll be a good match, right?”
He didn’t deny it. I felt... nothing. Not anger. Not surprise. Just confirmation.
“Maybe we should adopt her,” I said lightly, my voice sugar-sweet.
Ronnie hesitated for a fraction of a second before searching my face, like he wasn’t sure if I was serious—or if I had finally put the puzzle together. But he didn’t know me. Not really. Not anymore.
He thought I was a naive woman clinging to a broken love.
He’d soon learn he was dead wrong.
After a pause, he nodded. “Perfect. Let’s make it happen.”
He stayed behind to fill out the necessary forms. I wheeled myself down one of the quieter corridors, needing a moment to breathe away from his suffocating presence.
That’s when I overheard the staff.
“Can you believe Mr. Brown is letting his biological daughter pose as an orphan?”
A scoff followed. “And now he wants to adopt her like she’s not even his? That’s twisted.”
“Poor fiancée,” another voice said with pity. “She’s completely in the dark.”
My grip tightened on the armrests of the wheelchair. So it was true. Krystal was Ronnie’s child. I should have felt furious, betrayed—but the truth? I was numb. There was nothing left in me to break.
I already knew. I just needed proof.
I was turning around, ready to leave before they noticed me, when I caught another voice.
“Mommy!”
It was Krystal’s voice. Sweet, innocent, and full of affection. I wheeled around the corner and saw Margaret standing beside her. Krystal held her hand, eyes shining.
The moment they noticed me, Ronnie rushed to intercept.
“Oh, Doris,” he said, too casually. “Krystal calls her ‘Mommy’ because Margaret volunteers a lot. It’s just a term of endearment, you know? Nothing serious.”
I laughed. Out loud. Couldn’t help myself.
He was unbelievable. Absolutely shameless.
“Doris!” Margaret greeted me with a bright smile, walking over with the confidence of someone who thought she’d won. “So good to see you again.”
“You too,” I said, managing a smile that felt more like baring teeth.
“I hope your recovery is going well,” she said sweetly. “Ronnie mentioned you might still want to go through with the wedding. If you’d like, I could be your stand-in. Just until you’re feeling stronger.”
She paused, then smirked. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to roll down the aisle in your wheelchair. But I’m not sure how the press—or Ronnie’s parents—would feel about that kind of image.”
The venom was expertly veiled. But it still stung.
“That’s really generous of you,” I said with a polite nod. “Thanks for being so understanding.”
She blinked at my calm. “Sure... no problem.”
Ronnie’s eyes shifted between us, trying to read me.
“I’ll wait outside,” I told him, turning my wheelchair toward the exit.
He stepped forward. “Wait—are you okay? You don’t seem upset.”
I stopped and tilted my head. “Why would I be? Did you lie to me? Did you do something wrong?”
His jaw clenched. “No. Of course not.”
“Then I don’t see a reason to be angry,” I said sweetly and left him standing there in silence.
I made it to the front steps before I heard hurried footsteps behind me.
Margaret.
She fell into step beside my wheelchair, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
“You really think playing dumb is going to work?” she sneered.
I turned to her, expression blank. “Sorry?”
She rolled her eyes. “How long are you planning to pretend? You know what’s going on. So what’s your move, Doris? When are you going to finally let him go?”
I gave her a long look, calm and steady. “Let him go?” I repeated. “Funny. I was just about to ask you the Krystale thing.”
