I Married the Second Lead

By the time I was pulled into the book, the story was almost over.

The hero and heroine had beaten every obstacle and found their happily ever after.

And the tragic second lead, Sebastian Cross, had lost not only the woman he loved, but his entire career.

On the day Marcus Wade married Isabella Lane, Sebastian slit his wrists.

I got him to the hospital in time. When he woke up, I sat by his bed and talked his ear off.

It all boiled down to one thing: “As long as you’re alive, it’s not too late for anything.”

After that, I stayed by his side while he rebuilt everything from nothing.

Three years later, he was back on top of the Manhattan business world.

The day his company rang the opening bell, he got down on one knee in front of everyone, holding up a diamond ring, his eyes full of devotion. “Tessa, I love you. Will you marry me?”

My heart melted completely. “Yes.”

And so I stayed in this world.

Life with Sebastian was peaceful and easy.

I thought I’d be happy like that for the rest of my life.

Until six months into our marriage, when the heroine of the book, Isabella, showed up outside our house.

Chapter One

It was pouring that day, and Isabella was soaked to the skin.

For the third time, the butler came in to report that the rain was getting worse, and the woman at the gate refused to leave no matter what anyone said.

He wanted to know what Sebastian would like him to do.

Sebastian held a peeled orange segment to my lips and said coldly, “If she wants to stand in the rain, let her stand in it as long as she likes.”

The fire was roaring, the room warm and cozy, and I soon got drowsy.

Sebastian helped me to our room, tucked me in, kissed my forehead, and eased the door shut behind him.

But the moment I lay down, I was wide awake.

I was about to get up when lightning flashed past the window, followed by a crack of thunder.

I’m afraid of thunder.

I picked up my phone from the nightstand and called Sebastian.

He always answered on the first ring. This time it rang until it cut off, and no one picked up.

I got out of bed and padded barefoot to the window.

Our south-facing bedroom looked right out over the front gate.

Isabella seemed to have fainted. She’d collapsed, limp, into Sebastian’s arms.

He had one arm around her. In his other hand he held an umbrella.

The black umbrella was tilted entirely over her head.

The way he looked after her was so practiced. It didn’t look like a spur-of-the-moment thing. It looked like a habit, built up over years.

Something bitter rose in my chest.

Sebastian didn’t come home that night.

It was the first night he’d ever stayed out since we’d met.

Not a call. Not a single text.

I didn’t sleep at all.

The next morning, Sebastian came home with bagels from my favorite place, and found me with red, swollen eyes, looking like a wreck.

I saw a flicker of panic cross his face.

He crouched in front of me and took my hands. When he felt how cold they were, he didn’t say a word—just slipped them inside his shirt.

I looked at him and said softly, “I called you. You didn’t answer.”

As if he’d only just remembered, he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and held it out for me to see.

“Honey, there was a problem at work. I was in such a rush that I dropped my phone in water and it died. That’s why I missed your call.”

I just kept looking at him.

All I felt was the irony of it.

This was the man who’d sworn he would never lie to me as long as he lived. And now the lies came out without him even having to think.

I didn’t bother calling him on it.

My eyes landed on the red marks on his neck, and my stomach turned over.

I almost threw up on him.

In the bathroom, I bent over the sink, dry-heaving.

Sebastian gently rubbed my back.

Suddenly he stopped, as if something had occurred to him, and his whole face lit up.

“Honey—are you pregnant?”