Page 133 of The Reluctant Wife

"Someone came to visit me just now. You need to stop them from leaving.”

He listens to whatever the voice on the other end says, then barks, "Yes, they are on their way down in the elevator. Intercept them and keep them there. I need to talk to them."

I glance down to find there’s an envelope tucked between the clothes. A stone forms in the pit of my stomach. I can’t let myself give shape to the possibilities which are crowding my mind.Take a breath. Don’t let your imagination run away.I calm myself enough to bend and pick up the envelope.

I’m half-aware of Tyler saying something else to whoever is on the intercom. Then he hangs up and walks back to me. I silently hand over the envelope with his name written on it.

He glares at it, then takes it and rips open the flap. He pulls out a single piece of paper. Whatever he reads in it makes the blood drain from his face. As if in a dream, I reach over and take it from him and read it.

Tyler,

She’s yours. Her name is Serene.

She’s better off with you. Take care of her.

It’s unsigned. My heart stumbles in my chest. It’s not what it seems. It can’t be. There must be a simple explanation for it... Except... There’s a baby in a carrier on his doorstep, and that note tells me everything I need to know. I look up to find him staring at me.

“Did you know about her?”

To find out what happens next read Tyler & Priscilla’s story in The Rejected Wife here

Read an excerpt from The Unwanted wife - Skylar & Nathan’s story

Skylar

"I can’t do this." I lock my fingers together and narrow my gaze at my reflection. I’m in the tiny bathroom adjoining my office at the back of my bakery—my baby, my enterprise into which I’ve poured my life savings. And now, it’s going to shut down. Unless I find the money for the rent next month… And for the utilities to keep the lights on so the sign on the shopfront continues to be lit up in pink and yellow neon… And for the supplies I need to continue baking.The Fearless Kittenis more than my dream; it’s my whole life. What I've worked toward since I was sixteen and knew I was going to become the most phenomenal baker in the world. And now, I'm going to lose it.

“Sure, you can do it.” My brother encourages me from the doorway. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“That’s what I used to think. It’s why I started this pastry shop.” I was twelve when I discovered I was good at baking. That, combined with my love for desserts, meant I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

Two years ago, I moved to London to work at a well-known patisserie. I began scouting for a location for my place while I saved every single penny I could.

A year ago, I found the perfect place, and my little artisan bakery with coffee shop seating was born. Of course, I work eighteen-hour workdays, which means I have almost no social life. I barely manage a few hours of sleep in my little apartment over the shop. But nothing can dampen my spirits. I’m spending my days churning out cakes and pastries. It’s what I’ve dreamed of for so long. Only issue?

I don’t have the money to advertise, and despite having a social media post go viral—which is when a lot of people look at your social media feed—and result in a surge of customers, I'm not making enough to salvage my business.

“Don’t give up. You have to believe this can take off.” Ben’s voice is confident. If only I shared his optimism.

“Oh, trust me, I want to believe. But blind faith in yourself only takes you so far.” I wish I could do better at spreading the word about the place and bringing in new customers. I seem to suck at everything outside of baking. It’s why my business is on the decline.

“Success is what’s beyond the dark night of the soul,” my brother, ever the wise one, remarks.

“Is that a saying among you Royal Marines?” I scoff.

“It’s—"

The bell over the door at the front of the shop tinkles.

“—your destiny.” His lips curve in a smile.

“What?” I blink.

“The bell—it’s your future calling.”

I roll my eyes. “If you say so.”

“Go on, your customer is waiting.” My brother walks over and kisses my forehead. “Good luck. Remember, when one door closes, another one opens. Or the one I prefer, she who leaves a trail of glitter is never forgotten."

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