Chapter 2

VIELLA'S POV.

I glanced at the clock again for what felt like the hundredth time that night. It was past midnight, and Lance still wasn't home. His phone had been unreachable all evening, and the fact that I hadn't heard from him only deepened my worry. I paced the large sitting room, my heart hammering in my chest. Each second that passed seemed to amplify my anxiety.

This was becoming normal, and I didn't like it.

Three weeks ago, we had carried out the plan. Everything was set. Noralie was fully pregnant with our baby.

Hansel had done a flawless job, as expected. He was our family doctor, and I trusted him completely. We had known each other since high school—teenage nonsense, really.

By the time Hansel returned from the UK, after earning a reputation as one of the best gynecologists in the country, all those silly feelings from our youth had long since faded. I was already happily married when he returned, but we reconnected professionally – against my will, though, because my husband had been the one who found out about him and asked him to be our family doctor, and he agreed to it.

Sometimes, I wondered why Hansel was still single. I mean, he was a drop-dead gorgeous guy, successful and smart. Yet was still single.

Since the insemination was completed and Noralie became pregnant, Hansel had assured us the baby would be a boy. He was that good at his job.

But as much as I trusted him, I was struggling now. He had warned us about the challenges we might face during this phase, and I had thought I could bear it. But right now, I wasn't so sure how much more I could take.

Noralie called almost every night—complaining about not being able to sleep, eat, rest… there was always something. Every god-damned night, there was something new that needed attention!

Hansel had explained that it was the pregnancy hormones, and since Noralie was only twenty, this was all very new and overwhelming for her.

But why did it always feel like I was the one bearing the brunt of it?

Hansel had also advised Lance to be there for Noralie, to provide her with all the support she might need during this time. At the time, I hadn't thought much of it. But now… now it felt like too much. Too much of Lance's attention was being pulled away from me, and I was starting to feel the strain.

Lance was never comfortable with the arrangement, but I had encouraged him. For the sake of our happiness. As long as the so-called "support" didn't involve anything intimate happening between him and Noralie, I had convinced myself it would be fine.

Several times, I had driven to the secret mansion where we were keeping Noralie, just to reassure myself that nothing inappropriate was happening. And every single time, I left feeling embarrassed and ashamed of my suspicions.

Most times, Noralie would be fast asleep upstairs while my husband sat idly on the couch downstairs, sleeping or doing something work-related. There was nothing unusual. Nothing to suggest anything was going on between them.

How silly of me to ever feel insecure about this whole arrangement.

The blaring ringtone of my phone jolted me awake. I hadn't even realized I had dozed off, caught up in my endless, silly thoughts.

"Lance! Finally! I was so worried. What happened?" I asked, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

"I'm sorry, honey. My phone battery died, and I didn't bring my charger with me," he said, sounding apologetic.

"It's alright, baby. I was just so worried," I replied, though my head still throbbed, the dull ache from last night now blossoming into something much worse. The world around me seemed to spin, my head felt so light.

"I'm sorry for making you worried." He apologized.

"It’s nothing. Where are you? Are you on your way home? I’ve been feeling…” I started, but he cut me off.

“No, babe. I’ll be home a bit later. I’m taking Noralie to see the doctor. She’s feeling unwell—a little stomach upset,” Lance explained.

“What? Is she alright? Is she bleeding? Is… Oh my God,” I shot up from where I was sitting, panic rising in my chest. “I’m on my way to the hospital.”

“You don’t have to, babe. I’ll take care of her. It doesn’t seem too serious, I promise,” Lance said, his voice calm, trying to reassure me.

“But—”

“I insist, Viella. I’ll be home shortly, okay? I love you, baby,” he said and hung up before I could argue further.

Just as much as I was worried about Nora, I couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Prior to this arrangement, I had always been the center of my husband's attention.

But here I was, not even able to tell Lance that I was sick because he was attending to another sick woman.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. Thankfully, it was a Sunday, and my friend wasn’t particularly the religious type.

"Hey, bitch. How are you doing?" CeCe’s ever-lively voice sounded from the other end of the line.

Her liveliness was contagious.

"Spoiled brat. What’s up with you?" I asked, forcing a chuckle.

"I’m good. You don’t sound happy. What’s wrong?" CeCe asked.

"I need you. I need someone to talk to."

CeCe, ever the supportive friend, arrived in no time. She was always willing to lend her shoulder for me to cry on.

"Lance no longer pays attention to me. I’m worried," I said, handing her a cup of coffee.

"Come on, girl. Don’t you think you’re being too dramatic?" CeCe asked, rolling her eyes. "I know you’re used to lots of attention from dear Lance, but please, cut him some slack."

"I know what I feel. I know what I see. He’s beginning to seem too distant for my liking. I’m scared," I said, sinking into the couch.

"I know I do not like your cousin, Tara, one bit, and neither do I trust her. But I believe Nora is a good girl and has no negative intentions toward your husband. I know that’s where this is going." CeCe teased. "She can’t handle the half of Lance in bed. You know that."

She let out a naughty laugh, but I could only offer a chuckle.

"I know, right?" I said, rolling my eyes as memories of countless sexcapades with Lance came flooding in, coloring my cheeks a deep shade of blush pink.

"Perhaps you should go help her out sometimes when she calls Lance to come over. How about that?" CeCe suggested.

"Lance doesn’t let me. He says it’s his responsibility and he wouldn’t want to burden me with it," I explained.

"That’s nonsense," CeCe said with a casual wave of her hand. "You can help out too. You’re both in this together."

"You’re right. I agree with you," I said, standing up and walking toward the key stand.

"Where are you off to?" she asked.

"To take responsibility for what I have led my husband into," I said, turning to face her. "I’ll meet them at the hospital."

I had never taken such a risk in my entire life—the speed at which I drove to the hospital was reckless. My curiosity and insecurity were beginning to get the best of me, and I wasn’t happy about it. I was eager to prove myself wrong. To prove to my insecure self that my husband was still who I thought he was.

I left CeCe at home, promising to return soon.

"Good morning, Ms.," I greeted the nurse at the reception before making my way toward the private ward. I knew exactly where to find them.

"God, Viella, this is stupid!" I yelled inwardly at myself, taking slow, quiet steps toward the private ward.

My hands trembled as I came face-to-face with the door. My sweaty fingers pushed it open, and my breath caught in my throat at the sight before me.

"What the hell is going on here? Lance?"