###Chapter 2
406 Words
"Mrs. Morrison, Mr. Morrison wants to take you to the auction tonight. Which dress would you like to wear?"
Susan's voice pulled her back to reality.
The scene before her was all too familiar—it was the bedroom she shared with Enrique.
A month into their marriage, she had barely seen him.
She vividly remembered that night. Enrique was attending a land auction and, for the sake of formality, needed to bring a spouse.
But that had been five years ago. How could this be...
Could it be that she had been reborn?
"Mrs. Morrison, Mr. Morrison never stays overnight. This is your chance," Susan hinted eagerly.
She held up a white gown, hesitating."Maybe this one?"
Vanessa lowered her gaze, a bitter smile playing on her lips.
Everyone knew Enrique loved Roselyn Sanders.
Back then, she had foolishly tried to win his favor by copying Roselyn's style.
Roselyn wore white dresses, so Vanessa chose the same type—desperate for even a sliver of his attention.
That night, Enrique had taken Roselyn to the auction instead and not even informed her about it, leaving Vanessa to become a laughingstock in an identical white dress.
Looking back, she found it pathetic.
"No. I'll wear this one."
Vanessa reached for a bold red gown.
She had never liked plain colors. Roselyn had been nothing but a penniless college student. Vanessa found herself must have been insane to lower her bar, dressing in cheap imitations just to please a man.
All she had done only degraded herself.
Susan hesitated."But Mr. Morrison prefers the white dress..."
Vanessa ignored the desperate hint in Susan's tone.
"This one," she said calmly."And throw out all the white dresses. I don't like them."
"But..."
Susan sighed but obeyed.
Vanessa looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was still radiant, beautiful. But she knew that in a few years, Enrique would leave her drained, broken.
This time, she would end it before that could happen.
By evening, Vanessa was in a wine-red mermaid gown, the fabric hugging her curves perfectly. Her flawless makeup, paired with soft curls, gave her an air of effortless elegance. A beauty mark just below her eye only added to her allure. She looked like a painting, breathtaking.
Not far away, a man in a crisp white shirt and leather boots, a cigarette between his lips, watched her intently. Adrian Harrell's voice was low and rough.
"Who is she?"
- Writer
