CONRAD
My brows furrowed as I glanced at the familiar yet strange figure in front of me.
You? What are you doing here?” I asked. She slowly pulled her son closer to her, staring at me.
She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it quickly. She just stared. Her silence was irritating and annoying.
I tightened my jaw, tucked my hands in my pockets and strode to her. “When I ask a question , I expect an answer immediately,” I said, stopping a few inches away from where she stood.
She tightened her grip on her son's hand and cleared her throat. “I came here to meet Mr Conrad Pierre,” she began, her voice firm. “I am his soon to be wife.”
I narrowed my eyes, looking at her. “Soon to be wife? Who are you?”
“Amelia Hughes, the substitute bride you wanted.”
I scoffed. Substitute bride. She d
