Ten Years a Stand-in Wife—Old Money Only Recognizes Me Chapter 11

Ten Years a Stand-in Wife—Old Money Only Recognizes Me Chapter 11

“A gambler.”

Braydon Harris paused. “You know him?”

“I guessed.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“Derek Grant. Thirty-eight. Regular at casinos. Two years ago, he got his right pinky broken over debt. While Valerie was in Greece, he was the one swiping her credit cards. Then the limits maxed

out-”

“And he ran off,” I finished. “So she came back.”

Not because it was home.

But because she had nowhere else to go.

“Mr. Harris, keep those files for now. Don’t release anything yet.

“Understood.”

I hung up.

Footsteps approached from the door.

Adrian walked in.

He was back early. Sleeves rolled to his forearms, two cups of coffee in his hands. He set one in

front of me, kept the other.

“I heard about the reporter.”

“Handled.”

He sat across from me, took a sip.

“She’ll try again.”

“I know.”

“What do you need me to do?”

I looked up.

He looked back.

Light caught on the rim of his glasses, hiding his eyes, but the line of his mouth was soft.

Not the same cold face from ten years ago.

Ten years changes things.

“You don’t need to do anything,” I said.

“This is mine to handle.”

He set his cup down.

Silence stretched between us.

Then he lifted his hand and tapped lightly on the table.

Twice-“I’m here.”

I smiled.

At the same time.

The Mercer apartment.

Valerie threw her phone onto the couch.

“She traced my number,” her voice low, something churning in her eyes. “She knew it was me the

second I called the reporter. That woman-”

“Ten years ago, when I left, she was just a clueless girl.”

She picked up the sweet soup Linda had brought, took a sip, then set it down again.

“Mom, set up a meeting for me.”

“With whom?”

“Adrian’s grandmother.”

Linda’s face changed. “Valerie, she-”

“I know she’s formidable.” Valerie wiped the corner of her mouth, eyes narrowing. “But she cares

about two things. Bloodline. And rules.”

“Ethan is my biological son. That’s bloodline.”

“Sloane married into the Shaw family as a stand-in. That breaks the rules.”

She leaned back, tapping her fingers lightly against her knee.

“As long as I convince her-Adrian won’t go against her.”

Linda hesitated.

“But Valerie, back then… your fake death-”

“That,” Valerie cut her off, her tone turning instantly cold, “is not to be mentioned.”

“I’m back. That’s enough. What’s the point of digging up the past?”

Linda fell silent.

She lowered her head, holding the now-cold bowl, and quietly left the room.

Valerie sat alone in the living room.

Outside, the sky had gone completely dark.

She picked up her phone and opened a photo.

A man.

Narrow face. High nose. A crooked grin. Wrinkled shirt. Behind him, a bridge along the Seine in

Paris.

Derek Grant.

She stared at the photo for a few seconds.

Then hit delete.

[Confirm deletion?]

She pressed [Yes.]

The face disappeared from the screen.

She thought-she wouldn’t let anyone ruin her plan.