(Not) The Billionaire’s Replacement Bride

Ariana had already heard the news from Mrs. Rosaline about Gerald wanting to slow down the divorce proceedings. Initially, she was indifferent to the news, but over time, considering Gerald’s impulsiveness, Ariana thought she should also proceed more carefully. With Mrs. Rosaline’s help, Ariana finally found a reliable lawyer. Mrs. Rosaline herself stated that the lawyer wouldn’t accept any payment from Ariana, as she would cover all the expenses.NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

Ariana’s days, since leaving Gerald’s residence, could be described as quite monotonous. She still went to the restaurant, but she could no longer be active in the kitchen as she was before she got pregnant. She also refrained from going to the market to accompany Jody and shop for fresh ingredients for her restaurant. She preferred to isolate herself in her room upstairs, reading books or watching television and doing other relaxing activities, which she rarely did before but now felt she ‘had’ to do.

On the other hand, Ariana could be considered lucky because her pregnancy didn’t make her experience morning sickness, which she always heard young pregnant women suffer from. She didn’t vomit, although she always felt dizzy, but it never went beyond that. Perhaps the unborn baby knew that if her mother vomited, it would worsen her arrhythmia. Because inevitably, when someone vomits, their heart rate accelerates and affects overall body weakness.

Ariana also knew that her staff had been questioning ‘where Gerald was,’ given that he had never been absent from picking her up or dropping her off at the restaurant, and lately, he was conspicuously absent. It seemed as if he had vanished without a trace. However, these questions remained whispers among them, as none dared to speak up to ask.

Amber looked at her friend without saying much. After finishing a rather unappetizing breakfast, Ariana chose to sit on the sofa facing out the window. She didn’t turn on the television but preferred to read a book that Amber didn’t know what it was. Even though the book lay on her friend’s lap, her fingers never moved to turn the next page.

Amber knew Ariana wasn’t okay, despite her friend always saying the opposite. She knew that divorce wasn’t something on Ariana’s mind. Amber knew very well, as Ariana had revealed earlier, that she loved Gerald deeply. And for that man, she did all of this. Willing to part ways and accept his negative assumptions about her to preserve his dreams. But what Ariana clung to, what her friend fought for, Amber found it all foolish.

Amber was angry. Ariana acted like the protagonist in a drama who chose to suffer alone to endure. Amber wanted to be furious, especially with the old woman who had caused all of this to her friend. Who else but Mrs. Rosaline? The woman who had pushed Ariana into a marriage Ariana never wanted-even though falling in love was not within Mrs. Rosaline’s power-but that woman made Ariana decide to suffer alone. If there were an ounce of common sense in both their heads, all of this shouldn’t have happened.

If only Amber didn’t care for Ariana. If only she weren’t bound by her promise to that woman. Honestly, right now, Amber wanted to go to Gerald and spill everything. All these secretive games had gone far enough. Gerald deserved to know the facts about Ariana. The facts about Ariana’s pregnancy and the illness she had been dealing with for a long time. Not just Gerald, but her uncle should know what was really happening to Ariana too. Who knows, if they knew, they might be able to change Ariana’s mind.

There’s no stubbornness here. There’s just weak persuasion.

Amber looked at Ariana again. It was time for her to go to the restaurant and work. She wanted to ask if Ariana would come to the restaurant with her or not. She called Ariana’s name, but Ariana didn’t respond to her call. Finally, Amber walked closer and saw her friend, who was sitting there, leaning her back against the high pile of pillows she had arranged behind her, fast asleep. Both her legs were raised up on the couch, straight out. A thick romantic novel lay face down on her stomach.

Catherine Andersone, Comanche Moon. Amber knew her friend had read this yellow-covered book many times, even though she didn’t know what made Ariana like it. Amber walked to her friend’s room, took the thin blanket from Ariana’s bed, and then covered her friend’s legs. After that, she went to the restaurant alone.

****

Gerald returned to the bathroom, for what felt like the umpteenth time. His head was throbbing, and his stomach was so nauseous. Damn it! he cursed inwardly. What was wrong with him? He used to be able to sleep after getting drunk, but he would return to normal in the morning. Dizzy, yes. But not this severe. Not to the point of continuous nausea and vomiting.

His throat felt sore, and his tongue tasted bitter. There was nothing left for him to throw up. What he saw in the sink was yellowish liquid with small specks of blood, perhaps the effect of his injured throat.

Gerald stumbled out of the bathroom and crashed his body onto the bed.

A knock on the door made his head pound even more. “Come in!” he commanded, his growl barely restrained. Yosef appeared from outside, looking at Gerald with a furrowed brow. Another new habit of Gerald’s lately; he didn’t like the curtains open in the morning. The morning sunlight made his eyes dazzle from the glare.

“Breakfast is ready, Sir,” Yosef informed him.

“Ignore me, just tell them to have breakfast without me,” he said, adjusting his position on the bed to make himself more comfortable. Gerald felt weak; his whole body ached. “Get me some warm sweet tea, or whatever can ease this nausea,” he ordered without looking at Yosef. Yosef only nodded and retreated soundlessly.

Gerald closed his eyes with one hand. He didn’t want to lie down weak like this while he was sure his body was healthy. But even getting up from his bed made him dizzy. He couldn’t go to the office in this condition; it would only embarrass him, and he might lose his authority. He also couldn’t work as hard as he wanted to. In the past, he never complained about working sixteen hours a day. But now, let alone sixteen hours, spending eight hours in his room alone felt like too much for him.

The sound of a knock on the door echoed again. Gerald suspected it was Yosef, returning with the sweet tea he had requested. “Just leave it there,” he ordered without opening his eyes. He could sense someone approaching, but catching a whiff of a perfume that pierced his nose made Gerald instantly open his eyes and look at the person entering his room with an angry glare before he ran to the bathroom and vomited what wasn’t in his stomach. “Damn it!” he cursed from inside the bathroom.