HIS PAST HIS BRIDE

CHAPTER 4

Three years.

That’s how long it’s been since I became both Mrs. Addams and still the secretary to Derek Addams, the man who, once upon a time, was just my boss. Three years of a life that feels like a dream amazes me sometimes when I think about how I got here

Three years ago, after paying the hospital bills, instead of accepting my offer to pay him back, he offers me a marriage contract, with me getting ten illion for every year we stay married and said contract expires in four years, which is nine months away,

The early light filters through the sheer curtains as I step down from the bed, toes curling against the cold marble floor with the other side of the bed empty, as always. Derek is already out for his morning run. That’s how he’s always been

Marriage changes the way you see a person and I’ve learned that love hits you when you least expect it, from the quiet comfort or even the smell of his cologne on the pillow, or the way he leaves the bathroom light on because he knows I’m afraid of the dark. Derek makes loving him easy and I don’t even remember when it happened, when my heart softened from gratitude to something deeper.

Three years and three months of bliss.

I stretch, shaking the sleep off, and make my way to the wardrobe. The morning light hits the photo frame on the dresser, our wedding photo. I’m smiling in lace, eyes bright, unaware of how much my life was about to change that day.

After a quick shower, I pull on a cream blouse and fitted skirt, pin my hair up neatly, and go through my morning ritual, setting out Derek’s suit, his wristwatch, his favorite navy tie. Once that’s done, I grab my purse and head downstairs.

Working for Derek means I get to the office before he does. I like it that way. It gives me a head start, to organize files, sort out the morning coffee orders, and make sure everything is ready before the whirlwind of the day begins. It also helps me maintain my reputation that took nearly three years for people at the office to stop whispering behind my back, and to stop calling me the “lucky secretary who married the boss.” I had to prove myself, to show I was more than just a ring on his finger.

Today, as I descend the stairs, my mind is already on work. There’s a file from Rex we need for the investor meeting and Derek left it on his study desk last night.

I walk into the study and grab the folder, but something else catches my eye. A sealed envelope, half-tucked under a pile of papers, written in delicate cursive, it says:

“From love, Annastasia. Reply me soonest.”

I pause.

Annastasia. The name doesn’t ring a bell. My brows furrow as I trace the neat handwriting with my thumb. It’s strange, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. I’m already late. I slide the file into my bag and push the thought aside

In the kitchen, I reach for a cup and the smell of freshly brewed coffee greets me. Normally, it’s comforting, but this morning, the aroma hits me like a wave, sharp and nauseating.

I blink, press a hand to my mouth, and step back from the counter. A dizzy spell washes over me so fast it’s disorienting.

What on earth?

I’ve had coffee every morning for years. Why does it suddenly make me sick?

My pulse races. I take a few deep breaths, trying to steady myself. Maybe it’s stress. I didn’t sleep well. Maybe it’s just one of those random hormonal days.

But then, like a light flicking on in my head, it hits me.

I haven’t seen my period. Not last month or the one before that.

My heart skips a beat. I do a quick calculation in my head, Two months, nine weeks since I last saw my period

A nervous laugh escapes me. No. No, it can’t be that, there’s no way.

I grab my things and leave before my thoughts spiral further.

At the office, I’m too restless to sit still, and the usual morning chatter from the other assistants sounds distant. My mind keeps circling back to the same thought.

Could I really be pregnant?

I drop a quick note on Derek’s desk, “Had to step out for something urgent. Be right back.” and rush out before I can change my mind.

The pharmacy is just two streets away. I practically run the entire distance, inside, the smell of antiseptic hits me, and I make a beeline for the aisle I never thought I’d find myself in, the pregnancy test section, at least not now

I grab three different brands, just to be sure

The cashier doesn’t say a word, just gives me a polite smile as she rings them up. My hands tremble as I take the paper bag.

Back at the office, I head straight to the restroom, locking the stall behind me.

One by one, I take the tests. Then I wait. Those few minutes feel like forever. I pace. I glance at my reflection in the mirror, pale and anxious.

When the first line appears, my chest tightens. Then the second one follows.

Two lines.

Positive.

I pick up another test. Same result.

And the third.

All positive.

My knees nearly give out. I grab the edge of the sink to steady myself.

Pregnant. I’m pregnant.

I whisper the words aloud as if saying them might make them less real.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

A baby changes everything.

How do I tell him? Will he be happy? Or will he see it as a mistake?

I slide down against the wall, the cool tiles pressing against my back as my mind spirals. My life flashes in fragments—our wedding, the long nights at the office, the quiet dinners, the way he sometimes looks at me with something I can’t quite name

A small, unsteady smile tugs at my lips despite the chaos inside me, maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe it’s fate.

But then the image of that sealed envelope flashes across my mind, “From love, Annastasia.”

A chill runs through me.

Who is Annastasia? Why is she writing to my husband?