Ten Years a Stand-in Wife—Old Money Only Recognizes Me Chapter 10

Ten Years a Stand-in Wife—Old Money Only Recognizes Me Chapter 10

Three days after the auction gala, Valerie went quiet.

The Mercers didn’t.

Linda called three times a day.

First call “Sloane, your sister’s been crying at home for two days. Talk to her.”

Second call-“Sloane, your sister said you humiliated her on purpose at the gala-”

Third call “Sloane, you can’t treat your sister like this. She’s your own blood. Back then, she had

no choice-”

I finally snapped on the third call.

“Mom.”

“W-what is it?”

“She ran off ten years ago, leaving her fiancé and child behind. That’s ‘no choice’?”

“Well, at the time—”

“At the time, you shoved a twenty-two-year-old into someone else’s wedding dress. Did you give

me a choice?”

Silence.

I could hear Linda breathing-fast, uneven, like she was holding back tears.

Then David’s voice came from a distance. “Let me talk.”

The phone changed hands.

“Sloane.” His voice was hoarse.

“Dad.”

“About your sister… I know we failed you back then. But we’re family-”

“Dad,” I cut him off, “before you say ‘we’re family,’ think for a second. I carried this for ten years. How many times have you called me? How many of Ethan’s birthdays did you show up for? When I was hospitalized, did you even know?”

Q…

“You were hospitalized?”

“Three years ago. Appendicitis. Emergency surgery. Adrian signed the papers.”

David said nothing.

“If you want to stand up for her, go ahead. I won’t stop you.’

“But don’t come to me.”

I hung up.

The screen went dark.

My fingers felt a little cold.

I clenched them, then let go.

Half-moon marks pressed into my palm.

Didn’t hurt.

Just a dull ache.

A flicker of disappointment.

The phone lit up again.

Not Linda.

An unknown number.

I picked up.

“Mrs. Sloane Shaw?”

“That’s me.”

“Hello, I’m Eric Cole from City Pulse Weekly. Do you have a moment to talk?”

“What is this about?”

“We received a tip from an anonymous source. She claims to be Mr. Adrian Shaw’s original wife—”

My fingers stilled against the table.

“She says that ten years ago, at the wedding, the Mercer family swapped in a younger sister as the bride. She claims she is the real Mrs. Shaw. She says she has photos, a birth certificate, and-”

“Mr. Cole.”

“Yes?”

“Are you planning to publish this?”

“Well… the information is quite explosive. We’re still verifying-”

“Then I suggest you verify it very carefully.”

My voice stayed even.

“The marriage certificate has my name on it. The courthouse has the records.”

“For the past ten years, every public appearance, every legal document, every corporate

authorization-Mrs. Shaw has been me.”

“If you publish false information—”

I paused.

“The Shaw family’s legal team has thirty-seven lawyers.”

“That should keep your newsroom busy.”

Silence on the other end for five seconds.

“Ms. Mercer, I understand your… um…”

“And one more thing, Mr. Cole-”

“When that ‘anonymous source’ contacted you, did she use a number ending in 3847?”

I heard papers shuffling. Then silence.

“How did you know that?”

“Because that’s my sister’s number.”

I hung up. Sat there for a moment.

Out the window, the sweet autumn clematis petals had fallen all over the ground.