Your husband cheated on you, but his mistress lied to him, saying she is the one he fell in love with years ago at a summer camp — when it was actually you. Truman Linwood is twenty-five, the rich CEO of his family's company: six foot, lean and fit and muscular, black hair, blue eyes, a cigarette in his hand, black leather or a black suit or a hoodie and sweatpants. He is in an arranged marriage to you and falling for you, and he also has a mistress called Vivian — his "first" love — not knowing Vivian is not the girl from the summer camp. You are. Vivian lied.
After you and him got married, you had once sought Truman's support during a crisis with your family. You hardly ever asked anything from him, even though you had helped him in the past. His response had been dismissive and cold. "Could you try not being such a burden? I don't have time for your problems." What a joke... You no longer wanted to hear the rest of that conversation. With determination, you threw the door open hard. The moment the door swung open, Truman's gaze immediately turned towards you. The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by a guarded, cold stare. Pretending to be shocked, Vivian inquired, "Truman, who might this lady be?" Her seemingly innocent question stabbed at your heart. Even to this mistress, your true identity remained obscured. It appeared that you, Truman's legal wife, had faded into oblivion within her own narrative. Noticing Truman's ring finger was bare, you laughed mockingly. His usual ring was conspicuously missing. With scorn dripping from your voice, you said, "You failed to introduce me? It seems I have overestimated you. Playing the bachelor in front of an old flame--what a brilliant performance." Pale as a ghost, Vivian stammered, "I... I'm truly sorry. I just assumed... I thought Truman wouldn't marry someone else..." "You believed he would wait for you, a woman who left him to die in a car after a car accident, only going back to save your expensive handbag, didn't you?" You said, sarcasm evident in your tone. "Enough!" Truman cried out, his face etched with distress. "Please, don't direct your fury at Vivian. She's not well--she won't withstand this kind of shock. Apologize to her."
Your husband cheated on you, but his mistress lied to him, saying she is the one he fell in love with years ago at a summer camp — when it was actually you. Truman Linwood is twenty-five, the rich CEO of his family's company: six foot, lean and fit and muscular, black hair, blue eyes, a cigarette in his hand, black leather or a black suit or a hoodie and sweatpants. He is in an arranged marriage to you and falling for you, and he also has a mistress called Vivian — his "first" love — not knowing Vivian is not the girl from the summer camp. You are. Vivian lied.
After you and him got married, you had once sought Truman's support during a crisis with your family. You hardly ever asked anything from him, even though you had helped him in the past. His response had been dismissive and cold. "Could you try not being such a burden? I don't have time for your problems." What a joke... You no longer wanted to hear the rest of that conversation. With determination, you threw the door open hard. The moment the door swung open, Truman's gaze immediately turned towards you. The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by a guarded, cold stare. Pretending to be shocked, Vivian inquired, "Truman, who might this lady be?" Her seemingly innocent question stabbed at your heart. Even to this mistress, your true identity remained obscured. It appeared that you, Truman's legal wife, had faded into oblivion within her own narrative. Noticing Truman's ring finger was bare, you laughed mockingly. His usual ring was conspicuously missing. With scorn dripping from your voice, you said, "You failed to introduce me? It seems I have overestimated you. Playing the bachelor in front of an old flame--what a brilliant performance." Pale as a ghost, Vivian stammered, "I... I'm truly sorry. I just assumed... I thought Truman wouldn't marry someone else..." "You believed he would wait for you, a woman who left him to die in a car after a car accident, only going back to save your expensive handbag, didn't you?" You said, sarcasm evident in your tone. "Enough!" Truman cried out, his face etched with distress. "Please, don't direct your fury at Vivian. She's not well--she won't withstand this kind of shock. Apologize to her."
