Ten Years a Stand-in Wife—Old Money Only Recognizes Me Chapter 02

Ten Years a Stand-in Wife—Old Money Only Recognizes Me Chapter 02

Ten years had filled her out a little, softened her edges. The sharpness in her features had been worn down by sea wind and liquor, leaving her loose, almost languid.

When she saw me, she tilted her head and yawned.

“Sloane?” She squinted at me, scanning me up and down, her gaze lingering on my watch for two seconds.

Patek Philippe. A gift from Adrian Shaw last year.

“Well, look at you. Living nice.”

Valerie stretched, her spine cracking twice.

“Thirteen countries… I’m exhausted. French wine was decent, Greece had the bluest water—stare at it too long and your eyes start to hurt…”

She spoke casually, like she was reading off a travel ad.

Then she shifted, leaning forward.

“Where’s Ethan?”

The air in the room froze.

Linda’s lips parted, but no words came out. David’s back curved even further.

Valerie didn’t notice that.

“He’s in elementary school now, right? Why isn’t he coming to see his real mom?”

Her tone was matter-of-fact, like she was asking why no one saved her dinner.

I stayed by the entryway, not stepping in.

My toes pointed toward the living room, purse hanging from my arm.

“Valerie,” I said.

She looked up at me.

“Ethan’s eleven this year,” I said. “Fifth grade. Ranked third in his class last semester.”

I paused.

“He doesn’t know you.”

The smile froze on her face.

Not completely—just a flicker, like static on a broken TV signal before it snapped back.

“Doesn’t know me?” She laughed, her voice lifting. “I’m his mother. Blood doesn’t just—”

“He calls me Mom.”

I set my purse on the shoe cabinet and walked into the living room.

There used to be a spot for me on that couch. Back then, I never had a fixed place—just sat wherever was open.

Later, when I stopped coming home as often, Linda would place a cushion right in the center for me.

Today, that spot was taken by Valerie.

That was fine.

I didn’t need it anymore.

“Dad. Mom.” I looked at them. “You called me back—what is it you want to say?”

David opened his mouth.

Linda’s gaze bounced between me and Valerie like a ball trapped between two walls.

“Sloane…” Linda finally spoke, her voice weak. “Your sister’s back. This… this is a good thing.”

“It is.” I nodded.

“So…”

“Mom,” Valerie cut in, raising a brow. “Stop dancing around it.”

She stood and walked over to me.

Even in my seven-centimeter heels, she still had half a head on me. Genetics weren’t fair—she got David’s height and Linda’s face.

I got neither.

But when she looked at me, there was no hostility in her eyes.

Just something effortless.

Natural.

Superiority.

“Sloane,” she said lightly, “thanks for taking care of my son these past ten years.”

“But I’m back now.”

“What’s mine…” she tilted her head slightly, smiling, “you should give it back, don’t you think?”