
Revenge of the Substitute Wife
Agatha Christie · Completed · 7.9k Words
Introduction
For three years, she silently endured her husband's indifference, tolerated the entire family's disdain, and even in the moment of pregnancy, still couldn't receive a single genuine embrace.
But no one knew she harbored a heartbreaking secret.
When Aria returned bearing scars, when Vincent didn't hesitate to abandon his wife for his former love, when everyone assumed this was just another ordinary elite family romantic entanglement...
Revenge had only just begun.
"Vincent, you'll never know that this marriage was a lie from the very beginning."
Chapter 1
Ella's POV
Two pink lines appeared clearly on the pregnancy test.
My hands trembled as I held it, unsure whether from excitement or fear. Under the warm amber light of the master bathroom, I stared at this small plastic stick, emotions swirling inside me.
I gently touched my still-flat stomach, whispering, "Baby, will your arrival change everything?"
Three years. Three years of a cold marriage, three years of being ignored. Maybe this little life could be the turning point.
I carefully tucked away the pregnancy test and began preparing for tonight.
I spent the entire afternoon setting up this dinner.
White roses, crystal candlesticks, imported wine, and my husband Vincent Rossi's favorite steak. Every detail in the dining room was meticulously arranged, candlelight flickering to create the most romantic atmosphere I could imagine.
I changed into that blue silk dress—Vincent's favorite—and practiced my words repeatedly in front of the mirror.
"Vincent, I have wonderful news..."
"We're going to have a baby..."
"This child will bring our relationship..."
Damn it, why am I so nervous? I smiled bitterly at my reflection, palms slightly sweaty. This should be the most wonderful news, yet I felt like a high schooler about to confess.
Familiar footsteps echoed from the stairs. I quickly positioned myself by the dining table, taking a deep breath to compose myself.
Vincent appeared in the doorway.
He looked exceptionally handsome tonight—his charcoal gray shirt accentuating his perfect physique, that face that had captivated me for three years appearing soft and alluring in the candlelight.
"What's all this?" He glanced at the carefully set table, surprise in his voice.
"I thought we needed a proper dinner," I tried to keep my voice light. "It's been ages since we really talked."
To my surprise, Vincent actually came over and pulled out my chair. This gesture left me stunned—in three years, he'd never been this gentlemanly toward me.
"I have something to say tonight too," he sat across from me, voice low. "About our future."
My heart skipped a beat. Our future?
I watched him pour wine for me, inexplicable tenderness welling up inside. In this moment, he seemed so familiar... as if we truly were a couple in love.
"Vincent," I gripped my wine glass, gathering courage, "I also have something important to tell you..."
Ring ring ring—
The jarring phone ring suddenly pierced the air.
Vincent frowned at the screen, and the next second, his face went ashen.
"Aria..." he whispered the name.
My heart instantly plummeted.
No, not her. Not NOW.
"What? What happened?" Vincent frantically answered. "Injured? Which hospital?"
I sat frozen, watching the panic on his face as that familiar feeling of abandonment crashed over me. Just like our wedding night three years ago, just like countless nights when he'd received her calls.
In his eyes, I would never compare to that woman who ran away.
"I'm coming right now!" He hung up, frantically grabbing his jacket without even glancing at me. "Ella, I have to go. Aria was attacked—she's badly hurt..."
I remained seated, watching his hurried figure.
Three years ago, my father had incurred massive debts to Aria Moretti's family due to failed investments. Unable to repay, the Moretti family proposed using a daughter's marriage to "clear" the debt. But headstrong Aria had fled to Europe after fighting with Vincent, leaving me to marry this man in her place.
Everyone knew he only loved Aria, but I persisted in being good to him, caring for him devotedly. Gradually, our relationship had improved significantly. Two months ago, after he'd had too much to drink, we were intimate for the first time—truly intimate. I thought everything was moving in the right direction...
What a FOOL I am.
"Vincent." I called out.
He stopped and turned back impatiently.
"What I wanted to tell you earlier..." I stood up, clutching the pregnancy test tightly.
"What is it?" His tone was irritated, clearly anxious to get to the hospital.
I looked at the urgency in his eyes—an urgency that was NEVER for me.
"Never mind," I smiled bitterly and shook my head. "It's nothing important."
"I'll be back as soon as possible." With those words, he rushed out without looking back.
SLAM—
The front door shut with a thunderous bang that made my heart jump.
I stood alone in the candlelit dining room, looking at the carefully prepared dinner, at the two steaks still steaming hot, and sighed deeply.
Of course. She would always be more important than me.
Three years of patience, three years of waiting, three years of self-deception—all shattered the moment Aria returned.
I had thought everything was getting better, thought he was beginning to care about me, but I never expected Aria's return to so effortlessly destroy it all.
I slowly walked to the table and gently placed the pregnancy test beside his place setting. The candlelight illuminated the paper, making it seem particularly ironic.
I caressed my stomach softly and laughed with self-mockery. "Little one, it seems your daddy has more important things to do." I paused, my voice growing even softer. "I really hope you'll look like..."
I stopped mid-sentence and shook my head.
"Never mind, better if you look like Daddy. Whatever happens, none of this should be your burden to bear."
I blew out the candles on the table, plunging the entire dining room into darkness.
In the darkness, I remembered Vincent's words from our wedding night: "Don't think marrying me means you'll get anything. My heart will FOREVER belong to only one person. You're just a substitute—you ALWAYS will be."
For three years, I'd tried to prove I was more than just a substitute.
But now I understood—some things would never change.
I was his wife, but I would never have his heart.
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