His substitute bride

Chapter nine/a name in the dark

Bella's pulse thundered in her ears. She stared at the torn photograph, her breath coming shallow, almost afraid the sound would wake Edward.

“You're next Bella.”

The words were so deliberate, so personal, they seemed to echo off the walls.

She shoved the photo and envelope back inside, folding it into her palms. “No” Edward shouldn't see this, not yet. She needed to figure out what it meant before she involve him.

Her eyes darted towards the bed. Edward hadn't moved. His breath was steady, his arm flung carelessly over the pillow where she'd been lying.

Bella slipped quietly to her side of the room, pulling open the drawer of the vanity. Beneath a stack of silk scarves, tucked the envelope deep inside. She let scarves fall back into place, hiding it from sight, and hopefully, from anyone else who might come looking.

But the thought that someone entered their locked bedroom while they slept… made her skin crawl.

She refused to sleep again that night. She sat on the armchair by the window, wrapped in a thin robe, watching the moon sink lower until the first blush of morning painted the sky.

By the time Edward opened his eyes, Bella had her expression under control.

You're up early, he murmured, running his hand through his hair.

“I couldn't sleep,” she said, managing a faint smile.

Edward's eyes searched hers for a moment. “Something in your mind?”

“Just… thinking about the dinner tonight.”

She kept her tone light, but her mind replayed Vanessa's words from yesterday. “If you're still here.”

After breakfast, Edward left for his office. The moment she heard his car fade into the distance, Bella headed straight for the library.

If Amelia was part of this family in the past, there had to be some record of her. Newspaper clippings. An old family album. Something.

The Blackwood's library was a labyrinth of towering shelves and antique furniture, the kind of place that smelled of leather and dust. Bella searched through the drawers of an ornate filing cabinet. Most were filled with tax papers and contracts.

Then, at the very back of the lowest drawer, she found a slim leather- bound ledger. She flipped it open, neatly handwritten dates and names filled the pages. Births. Deaths. Marriages.

Her breath caught when she searched the “Marriage” section.

Edward Blackwood and Amelia carter- June 15, 2017

Her hand tightened on the page. Amelia Carter. So she had been Edward's wife.

Bella's eyes scanned the ledger for a divorce date. There was none. Instead her gaze drifted lower.

Amelia Carter Blackwood- Deceased. No date. No cause of death.

Bella's stomach twisted, so the rumors about him getting married and wife dying mysteriously were all true.

The ink looked freshener than the other entries, as if someone had added it later.

A shiver slid down Bella's spine.

The door behind her creaked.

She spun, the ledger still in her hand.

Vanessa stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable. “You're digging, Bella.”

Bella's mouth went dry. “I just… wanted to know who she was.

Vanessa stepped into the room, her heels silent on the carpet. “And now you do.”

Bella hesitated. “What happened to her?”

Vanessa smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it. “That, my dear, is the wrong question.”

Before Bella could ask what she meant, Vanessa glanced toward the hall. “Get dressed. Dinner is at eight. And whatever you do… “her gaze flicked to the ledger in Bella's hand. “..... “don't mention her name at the table.”

She left without another word, the echo of her warning heavy in the air.

Bella closed the ledger and returned it to the drawer, her heart still pounding.

Before evening, she had already chosen a deep emerald dress that brushed the floor when she walked. Edward's approving glance when he saw her almost made her forget the unease knotting in her stomach.

The dining room glowed with golden light. Long crystal glasses caught the flicker of candle flames. The Blackwood's were already seated. Vanessa, her husband, Edward's mother, and a few other relatives Bella barely knew.

Dinner began with polite conversation, but the undercurrent tension was undeniable. Eyes lingered on her face for too long. With smiles that didn't reach their eyes.

Halfway through the meal, Ethan lifted his glass. “To the Blackwood family. May we always protect our own.”

The word felt ceremonial and rehearsed. Bella raised her glass along with the others, though the phrase tasted strange in her mouth.

Then, just as the glasses clinked, a voice from the far end of the table spoke up.

“Tell us, Bella,” the man said with a lazy smile. “Have you heard the story about Edward's first wife?”

Every fork and knife paused.

The room went silent.

And all eyes turned to her.