My Uncle Made Me His Ex’s Replacement

Chapter 2

After lying awake in a hotel until dawn, I booked a ride back to the house where I had lived for four years and began packing my things.

When I opened the door, I nearly thought I'd come to the wrong place.

A cream-colored rug now covered the stark gray living room floor, and the mantel was crowded with flowers.

The entryway wall that had stood bare for four years was now lined with photographs—all of Adrian and Vivian as a couple.

I had once wanted to hang a photo of the two of us there. I pleaded with him for a month, but he never relented. Yet the moment Vivian came back, she got everything I'd once wished for.

"Vivian likes a lively home." Adrian came up behind me and followed my gaze.

"She saw all the matching things you and I bought and got a little upset." I could hear the fondness in his voice.

Then I walked into the storage room and saw what he meant by "a little upset."

My clothes and shoes had been thrown into a heap on the floor.

Everything from my vanity had been dumped into cardboard boxes. The perfume he gave me for my birthday lay shattered on the floor, its heavy scent filling the room. Suddenly, I remembered that Vivian had smelled the same way at the airport yesterday.

So even the perfume he gave me was Vivian's favorite.

Even the pair of mugs Adrian and I had made together had been smashed to pieces.

Adrian stood in the doorway. "If something's broken, throw it away. None of it cost much. I'll buy you whatever you want later."

Without a word, I picked up a water-warped scrapbook from the floor. It held the story of our entire relationship: our first dinner alone, our first Christmas together, the first time he came back from a business trip with a gift for me. Every page had a date.

On the last page was a photograph from my birthday the previous month.

He had stayed for only ten minutes before leaving when a call came in.

Yet I still took a picture and wrote beneath it:

This year, he remembered.

Two hundred sixty-eight pages, all filled with memories of us.

I threw the scrapbook, the shattered mugs, and all the ruined gifts into the trash.

His brow furrowed.

I smiled.

"You're right. If something worthless is broken, it should be thrown away."

That included everything I'd wasted on him, too.

His face darkened instantly.

He seemed about to say something when his phone rang.

"Adrian, it's raining. Why isn't the driver here yet? Will you come pick me up?"

His expression softened. "Stay inside the club. Don't get wet. I'm coming now."

With that, he hurried out. "Find your own ride. Text me when you get there."

After the door shut, the rain outside came down even harder. The villa sat in the hills, where it was impossible to find a ride.

Dragging my suitcase, I made my way down the sloping road toward the main street. Rain poured off the edges of my umbrella, soaking through my shoes.

Suddenly, one of the suitcase wheels caught between two stones. I reached down to pull it free, but my foot slipped and I fell hard to the ground.

The skin on my palm scraped open, and my knee burned with pain.

Then a pair of headlights cut through the rain.

Adrian's familiar black Bentley came into view. Before I could even get to my feet, it swept past, its tires splashing muddy water all over my dress.

In the passenger seat, Vivian was wrapped in Adrian's coat, laughing as she said something. He turned to look at her, a gentle smile curving his lips.

Gritting my teeth, I pressed my hands against the cold road and forced myself back to my feet.

My knee throbbed with every step, and my leg trembled beneath me.

Still, I gripped my suitcase and walked the other way without looking back.