"That's her?" The passenger let out a sharp laugh. "God, I thought the rumors were exaggerated. She doesn't look like Orlov's new thing. More like she polishes his shoes."
I gripped my umbrella. Instinct screamed at me to walk away. "Excuse me."
"Don't rush off, Mrs. Orlov." The driver stretched out thetitle like it was a joke. "We came specially to see what kind of woman stole Kirill away."
Kirill's admirers? Given my husband's looks and status, these overdressed rich girls crushing on him made sense.
I laughed bitterly to myself. They'd wasted a trip. I wasn't even close to the rival they'd imagined.
"What are you smiling at?"
The woman opened her door, swung out her long legs, and stepped in front of me. She towered half a head above me. Her perfume hit me like a wall, forcing me back.
"Who are you?" I asked warily.
"We're Genevie's friends." She stared into my eyes like I was livestock. "What? You don't know her?"
Genevie. The instant she said the name, I thought of the woman in that painting.
I didn't speak. But my nails dug into my palms.
"Don't look at us like you're the victim." The other woman climbed out, arms crossed, eyes filled with condescending pity. "We just think it's funny. What did Kirill settle for? A dumpy nursing home worker? Is this how he punishes himself?"
"If you just came to humiliate me—"
"Humiliate you?" She cut me off with a cold laugh. "Honey, you're not worth humiliating. We just feel bad for Genevie."
She stepped closer, got in my face. "You know how they broke up?" She paused, voice dripping with contempt. "Genevie was Kirill's first love. They were together for five years. Everyone thought they'd get married. But fate's cruel."
The other woman picked up the story. "The Sterling family went bankrupt overnight. Genevie had to marry that mafia boss in San Francisco just to pay off the debts. Kirill nearly lost his mind trying to keep her. But he couldn't."
I tried to raise my voice. "So what? That's in the past, isn't it?"
"Past?" The woman sneered. "Wrong. They still love each other. And everyone knows you're just a stand-in. Here's more good news—Genevie's divorced. Kirill's going to kick you outsoon. Take my advice. Face reality and crawl back to your gutter."
They roared off in their convertible, spraying mud everywhere.
I stood in the rain. Didn't feel the cold. Just felt ridiculous.
So that was the truth. Kirill had a woman he loved. They'd never really separated.
In this epic love story, I was just the clown. The vile intruder who'd stolen someone else's place.
My legs moved mechanically. I went to the hospital.
Outside the VIP room, I sucked in several deep breaths, slapped my cheeks hard, trying to smooth away the stiffness. Forced a smile. Pushed open the door.
"Hey, superstar," I called out, faking lightness, setting down the fruit I'd bought. "How are you feeling today? The nurse said your surgery's coming up. Nervous?"
Aiden sat propped against his pillows, reading. He looked up. Those eyes—identical to mine—lingered on my face for a few seconds. The smile he'd started to form faded.
"Sis." He closed his book. His voice was so calm it scared me. "Your eyes are red as a rabbit's. Stop smiling. You look like hell."
My smile froze. Like a mask cracking.
"They're not..." I turned away to pour water, trying to hide. "Wind outside was strong. Got something in my eye."
"Harper." Aiden's voice dropped. "I'm sick, not stupid. Ever since that guy Boris moved me to this hotel suite of a hospital room, I knew something was up."
