Forsaken Bride: Deceived Into Love's Second Chance

Jayden's stare cut through Deanna like glass, as if he could see every hidden thought she tried to bury. She blinked once, slow and measured, masking her unease with composure. "I just fetched some water, that's all." Something in her tone unsettled him. Jayden couldn't explain why, but a faint edge of suspicion crawled beneath his calm. He forced the thought away. Deanna wouldn't lie. She couldn't have overheard the talk between him and his mother. If she had, she wouldn't be standing there so quietly. She'd have exploded already. As for the noise earlier, he must have imagined it. That reasoning steadied him, and his shoulders eased a little. "It's getting colder. You haven't been feeling well, so stay inside at night, alright? Don't push yourself." He tried to sound gentle, but his words made her stomach twist. "Keep your kindness for Talia. She's the one who needs it. She's your wife, not me." Jayden's jaw tightened. A hollow weight pressed against his ribs, but before he could respond, his gaze dropped to her dress. A dark stain spread near her side—blood. A jolt of worry shot through him, and his brows knitted tight. "Deanna, what happened to you?" He reached for her hand without thinking. The sight of the deep, raw gash made his stomach twist. His expression hardened, shadowed by concern he couldn't quite put into words. Instinctively, his eyes darted to the table. But the photo frame was gone. Shards of glass glimmered across the floor, and amid them lay the broken frame—the photo she'd guarded like her own heartbeat. A sharp breath escaped him. A cold unease stirred in his chest. She'd never let that picture fall, not once. Deanna's jaw tightened as she yanked her hand from his. The warmth in his touch made her skin crawl. Jayden froze, caught off guard by the rejection. He started to speak, but a sudden sharp crack split the silence before any words could form. The crash of breaking porcelain sliced through the tension. Deanna turned toward the sound and found Talia standing frozen at the doorway. The cup she had been holding lay in pieces at her feet, water spreading across the floor like a stain. Her face was streaked with tears as she trembled, her voice cracking when she said, "Tell me you didn't stay out of our room all night because of Deanna, Brody." Jayden's face drained of color. He stepped past Deanna in a rush, his tone soft, desperate. "You've got it wrong, Talia. She's hurt. I only came to check on her. She's been through a lot since... since her husband died." His excuse faltered when Talia's fury surged. "Don't insult me," she scoffed, glaring at Deanna. "I know you're grieving, but Brody was your brother-in-law. How can you look at Brody and pretend he's a replacement? It's disgusting. Try having some dignity." Deanna let out a low, humorless laugh. If Talia had any idea who she'd been sleeping beside for the past ten nights, would she still sound so righteous? "Relax," Deanna responded coldly, her eyes narrowing. "I wouldn't touch a man you've already used." The words landed like a slap. Jayden's movements faltered, and he stared at her, mixed feelings flickering in his eyes. Deanna had no patience left for either of them. "Please leave. I'd like to mourn my husband in peace." The way she lingered on the words "mourn my husband" made Jayden's throat tighten. He glanced at her once more, only to find her gaze sharp as ice. He looked away quickly. Talia, too blinded by her humiliation to notice, turned stiffly toward the door. Deanna followed her, closing it with quiet finality. On the other side, Talia's trembling eased into a cold, hateful stillness, her eyes burning with a dangerous glint. Talia smoothed out her expression in an instant. Acting like nothing was amiss, she slipped her arm through Jayden's and led him back into their room. Later that night, Deanna heard the unmistakable and even bolder noises coming from next door. Though her heart felt hollow and cold, she kept her face stoic as she set fire to the memorial photo, then glanced at her phone. She opened her inbox and found a new message: "Ms. Evans, the Gordon family is requesting your hand for the ninth time. This time, we're offering one hundred million as a gesture of our sincerity. Would you reconsider?" The Gordon family, one of Elesport's most illustrious families, held a status so high that many would do anything just to be part of their world. However, misfortune struck when Connor Gordon, the family's young successor, slipped into a coma a year ago. Now, with his conniving uncle waiting for an opportunity, Connor's safety remained uncertain. What used to be a treasure trove turned into a source of endless trouble, and most people kept their distance. To secure a wife for Connor and continue the family line, Gerard Gordon, Connor's grandfather, pulled out all the stops, but no one was willing to step into a life marked by potential widowhood and danger. With Connor's uncle still in the picture, marrying an unresponsive man offered nothing but risk. No one wanted to marry Connor. Out of options, Gerard fixed his sights on Deanna, who had just lost her husband. Although she lost her parents at a young age, she had always carried herself with the grace of someone born into privilege. For the Gordons, she was the ideal candidate—composed, controllable, and gifted with excellent genes, making her perfect to bear Connor's child. A widow and a man locked away in silence—it was a strange kind of match. To others, it looked like a recipe for disaster. For Deanna, though, marrying into the Gordon family meant walking away with one hundred million in cash and a husband who would never stand in her way. Where else could she find an arrangement so advantageous? There was no chance for Deanna to stay with the Spencers, and returning to the Evans household was out of the question. In the past, she refused every marriage proposal, because her heart belonged to Jayden. But that was all in the past now. With a faint, bitter smile, Deanna set her fingers on the keyboard and replied, "I'm in."