His and Her Unspoken Secret

Early the next morning, I rushed straight to the hospital where my father was staying. When I pushed open the door to his room, my heart skipped a beat. His hospital gown hung loosely on his frame. He had clearly lost even more weight, and the sight of it made my heart ache.

My father, however, looked surprised to see me. He then gave a helpless smile, no doubt guessing that one of the neighbors had tipped me off about his condition. Before I could say anything, he turned his phone toward me. On the screen was my pre-wedding photo with George.

“You, my daughter, are so beautiful,” he said proudly. “On your wedding day, you’re going to be the most stunning bride ever.”

There was a lump in my throat, and I couldn’t say a single thing.

Suddenly, he asked, “By the way, did you tell George about the pregnancy?”

I pressed down the sting in my eyes and nodded gently. “I did. He was very happy.”

My father let out a relieved sigh. Then he started giving me careful instructions on what I should eat, how much I should rest, and not to wear high heels for long periods.

My vision began to blur. Afraid he would notice, I turned my face away and made an excuse about going to the restroom to fix my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked exhausted. Even the heavy foundation couldn’t hide it.

I wiped the dampness from the corners of my eyes and took a deep breath. For my father’s sake, I had to hold it together. I had to finish acting out this “happy” play.

…

Three days before the wedding, I told George, “I want to meet Josie.”

To my surprise, he agreed. Maybe in his mind, everything had been settled. So, even if I met her, nothing would change.

The driver took me to a villa compound on the west side of the city. From a distance, I could see elite soldati patrolling the grounds. The security was tighter than at some consulates. So this was how he treated a “burden”?

With every gate we passed, my heart sank a little lower.

When the car door opened, a maid called out cheerfully, “Donna, the Don is here!”

Her voice stopped abruptly when she saw that it was me stepping out of the car. However, I said nothing and simply took in the house around me. It was luxurious, warm, and meticulously maintained. Nothing was neglected. Nothing looked temporary or improvised. It was clear that George had treated her fairly in terms of material needs.

A slender figure slowly entered my line of sight. She was indeed beautiful. Josie Hill walked past me without a glance and wrapped her arms around George’s arm behind me.

“Don, you’ve finally come. I’ve missed you so much.”

He nodded. “The doctor said you haven’t been taking your medicine again.”

His tone sounded neutral, but there was a trace of concern hidden underneath.

“I wanted you to feed it to me…” Josie said shyly.

Only then did George turn to me and introduce, “This is Bella.”

That was it. He didn’t say I was his fiancée or bride-to-be—just a name.

Josie narrowed her eyes slightly as she looked me over, her tone light and pleasant. “Hi, I’m Josie. Come in, don’t be shy. Make yourself at home. What would you like to drink? There’s champagne in the fridge he just bought, or you can try the coffee I made. He said my skills have improved.”

She carried herself like the lady of the house.

I clenched my teeth, feeling my anger rise. To be honest, she didn’t look like the daughter of heroes who had once taken a bullet for someone. She looked delicate, fragile, and almost spoiled.

On the way here, George had told me he’d once tried to send her away overseas for the best medical care, for school, and even just for travel. However, she refused. She only wanted to stay in this vast, empty mansion, clinging to her illness, waiting for George to visit her whenever he could.

…

Before I could say anything, George had lifted her naturally into his arms and carried her toward the couch.

He instructed the maid, “Bring me the medicine the Donna had hidden.”

The maid immediately retrieved it with practiced ease and handed it to him. Josie wrapped her arms around his neck, refusing to let go, and George simply continued holding her like that.

I stood there, frozen. I watched as he brought the pills to her lips, poured her a glass of water, and used his thumb to wipe away the moisture at the corner of her mouth.

She held the title of Donna, which should belong only to me, and was shown the tenderness that should only be meant for me. If I had held onto even the slightest illusion before coming here—an illusion that they were only bound by a piece of paper, forced by their families—it all shattered in that moment.

I didn’t want to hurt this girl, but I also didn’t want my child to enter this world branded as illegitimate.

At the thought that the wedding between George and me would be built entirely on lies, I couldn’t stay there for another second.

I stood up, announcing, “I should go.”