The Second Marriage Chance

Emily

Bronn’s personality was always different whenever we were in bed. The way his dark blue eyes gazed at me, the way he showered my body with kisses, or the way he felt inside me-each moment was uniquely intense.

Two years had slipped by almost unnoticed, like sand through an hourglass.

My relationship with Bronn is hard to define. Despite lingering doubts, I often convince myself that our arrangement is normal.

But I have no right to complain. This is in exchange for the hundred thousand dollars, a luxurious lifestyle, and the prestige of being Bronn Martin’s chosen woman!

Mr. Thompson, his butler, eyed me curiously while I was reviewing for my finals in the garden.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

He cleared his throat. “Nothing to worry about, Miss Emily. Robert informed me that Mr. Martin will be away for another two days due to important business meetings.”

I nodded, trying to mask my disappointment with a shrug, accustomed as I was to Bronn often being away on business trips and not coming home.

Evelyn, now living in Pennsylvania, once asked me why I always received messages from Bronn’s people rather than directly from him. I had no satisfactory answer then, and I still don’t.

More often than not, it was Robert who relayed invitations for our dates or informed me of changes to Mr. Martin’s schedule. I told myself that the latter was too busy to manage these details personally and that the butler was there to inform me of his whereabouts.

A day passed, and I found myself missing Bronn, caressing the empty space on the bed beside me.

Just as I was contemplating getting up, my phone rang. The caller ID displayed Dr. Vanderbilt’s name.

“Dr. Vanderbilt,” I answered, “Is everything alright?” I asked.

“Miss Carter, a relative came to visit your mother earlier today. I wasn’t on duty then, so I didn’t personally oversee the interaction. However, after the visitor left, your mother became extremely agitated. It seems she was informed about your father’s passing two years ago.”

“I-I’m on my way, doctor,” I stammered, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.

When Dad died, I had asked Dr. Vanderbilt how likely it was that my mom’s health would be affected by the news of his death. He replied, “Given your mother’s condition, it’s very likely that it will have a severe impact. The emotional shock could exacerbate her heart disease significantly.”

My mother was Dad’s mistress for years before I was born. Despite their eventual divorce, Dad committed to supporting her medical expenses when she developed heart disease. They had a formal agreement that also covered my education costs.

My mother had gracefully accepted their separation terms. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about Dad’s death. The image of him found lifeless in his mansion, having suffered a heart attack while asleep and alone, haunted me. Knowing how deeply she still loved him, I feared what the news would do to her delicate health.

As I hurried to the hospital in the luxury car Bronn had given me, guilt and fear battled inside me. I walked quickly down the familiar hallway to my mother’s room.

Dr. Vanderbilt and a nurse were with my mother when I entered the room. She was trembling, her face pale. Her eyes locked onto mine intensely when she saw me, making me flinch.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Emily? Why didn’t you tell me that your father had been dead for a long time?!” Her chest heaved with the effort of speaking.

“Mrs. Carter, please… it would be best if you calm down,” Dr. Vanderbilt urged.

I started to cry and then, trying to stay calm, explained, “Mom, p-please… This is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

But my mother’s anger seemed to give her a newfound strength. “I feel like such a fool! You’ve been lying to me all this time, and I had to find out from Erica of all people!”

My mother cried heavily, her breaths growing harder to take with each passing moment. Dr. Vanderbilt’s efforts to soothe her appeared useless, and I felt panic welling up inside me.

“Where did you get the money for my hospital expenses, Emily? Erica told me she was wondering why I was still here when she had stopped paying for it! Answer me!”This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

Trembling in fear, tears streamed down my face as I tried desperately to calm her down.

“Ahhhhh!” she screamed, despite her weakened state, managing to throw the medicine glass beside her at me.

“Are you a mistress too, Emily? Is Erica right? Are you some man’s… hidden woman? These hospital bills… millions… Where did the money come from?” Labored breaths punctuated her words, each one evidently causing her distress.

“No, Mom! Please… You have to believe me…” My chest constricted, the sight of her struggling to breathe while directing all her anger at me almost unbearable.

“Miss Carter, I need you to step out immediately!” Dr. Vanderbilt’s urgent voice cut through the tension.

Choking back sobs, I stumbled out of the room. In the hallway, I could hear Dr. Vanderbilt urgently calling for the emergency team. They rushed past me.

Alone in the hallway, my sobs bounced off the empty walls.

A mistress…

Was I unknowingly repeating the same mistakes that had deeply hurt my mother? But Bronn, surely our situation was different. He cared for me, right? He was just helping with my financial troubles.

Tears blurred my vision, and I trembled with fear.

Several minutes passed before Dr. Vanderbilt emerged. The devastated look on his face told me everything.

“Miss Carter…” he began gently.

“What? Wh-what’s happening, doctor?”

He shook his head, his eyes full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry, but we couldn’t save your mother.”

The world seemed to spin around me upon hearing those words, and I collapsed in tears in the hallway. Dr. Vanderbilt knelt beside me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

I never imagined losing my mother like this…

The steady, haunting beep of the flat-lined heart monitor echoed through the silence. My mother lay there, her face now peaceful but still marked by our final, painful conversation.

I approached her bed on unsteady feet, gently taking her hand in mine.

“Mom…” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m so sorry… I never meant to hurt you. I love you so much.”

Hours were spent in the hallway, lost in indecision. Dr. Vanderbilt approached, asking, “How do you want to prepare the burial, Miss Carter?”

At that moment, all I could manage was a weak, “As soon as possible…”

As reality slowly seeped in, I felt an overwhelming need for support. With trembling hands, I typed a message to Bronn: ‘Mr. Martin, can you please come home to the villa?’

Bronn understood my mother was in the hospital, but I’d always kept that part of my life distant from him, afraid of complications. Living together in his villa, we fell into a routine, avoiding the complexities of our relationship.

Now, in this darkest hour, I yearned for his presence, his strength. I needed an ally to face the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

Minutes ticked by, and instead of Bronn, Robert replied: ‘Miss Carter, Mr. Martin sends his apologies. He is unable to return tonight due to an urgent business trip to Dubai. He will be back in three days.’

A sob escaped my lips, echoing in the empty corridor. Even now, in my time of crisis, our messages pass through someone as if I am pleading for a meeting in a cold business transaction.

Feeling desperate, I sent another message: ‘Please, Mr. Martin… I really need you. Can you please call me?’

As I waited, the harsh reality of my choices sank in. I had chosen to enter this gilded cage, agreeing to wait quietly and lovingly for Bronn Martin, accepting whatever little attention he decided to spare.

The call I so desperately needed never came, facing my grief alone.