An illusional hope

Victoria's POV

Oh no, no, no! Shit! I glanced at my wristwatch and then at the lengthy line of traffic in front of the signal ahead. It seemed the whole of New York was at a standstill.

“Sir, can you tell me how long it will take?” I asked the driver.

The man shook his head. “I don’t know, madame. It seems it will take a long time,” he replied in a thick French accent.

Fuck! Why is it always me facing such tragedies? I needed to reach the birthday celebration before 6 p.m., and it was 5:50.

Oh lord! I had no choice. After paying the cab’s fare, I took a deep breath, quickly exited the taxi, and rushed down the street. I loved my husband so much and would do anything for him, including rush like mad, so I wouldn’t be late for his grandmother’s seventieth birthday.

My husband and I had been living together for three years, and I had been suppressing my personality just to be with him. But I took a pregnancy test the week before and was expecting a baby! I couldn’t wait to tell him the good news!

Though engrossed in my thoughts, I didn’t miss it when a car approached, looking as if it were about to hit an old woman on the side of the road.

Without a thought, I ran to her and pushed her out of the way. But I tripped and fell into a mud puddle. “Aah,” I whimpered in pain.

The old woman tried to help me stand. “Oh, my sweet little girl.”

With a slight help from her, I rose, feeling a terrible ache in my right arm. It messily fell under my stomach. God knew if I broke my hand.

asked. “Let me take you to the

looked at my dress.

several odd looks from people on the street, I reached

walked toward him, hoping he

cold gaze turned into an icy stare, and his jaw clenched. “Of all days, how could you be late today? This

let me

hand. “I don’t want to hear any of your

but was it my fault? The thought blurred my vision even more, despite

and one said, “Today is Madame Devonte’s birthday. Are

think she shouldn’t go in.” Then her gaze shifted to me. “You’ll only make my grandma

my husband through my eyelashes. His face had

Thanks, bitches.

a sober dress,” Alessandro ordered coldly and walked into the dining hall, obviously

a sharp breath to control my

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Alessandro’s ex-girlfriend, Camilla, asked, her voice dripping with vicious disdain. “What? Is

again. Not this

me for years. Worse, since she saved his life in an accident, his family

Angel, my foot!

distressed mood, her insults only inflamed me further. However, I was already

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