Lily’s voice came through the phone, dripping with smugness.
“Aria, Gabriel and I are getting married,” she said, almost gloating. “I should really thank you. If you hadn’t pushed for the divorce, I wouldn’t have had him so easily. So, I’m calling to invite you to our wedding this Friday. I’m sure you’ll want to wish us well.”
I wasn’t angry. If anything, I felt calm, almost amused. I answered slowly, letting my words sink in. “Lily, how’s your baby? Are you planning on carrying a pillow for ten months, or will you pick a good day after the wedding to have an abortion?”
I could hear the panic and cursing on the other end of the line.
“Aria, what the hell are you doing?!”
I didn’t respond. Instead, I hung up with a cold laugh.
The truth was, Lily wasn’t pregnant. Not even close.
I remembered that day in the coffee shop, seeing those sanitary pads in her shopping bag. The way she sat, crossing her legs in heels, acting way too comfortable for someone who was supposedly in her first trimester. Everything had felt off.
Once I’d recovered enough, I reached out to an old colleague of mine. She confirmed my suspicions: Lily wasn’t pregnant. It was all a stupid, desperate scheme to lock Gabriel down.
I didn’t waste a second. I packed up Aurora and Mom and took them back to our hometown. I switched off my phone, making sure Lily couldn’t track me down.
I wanted her to live in constant fear, knowing the truth was always hanging over her, like a sword on a thread. Let her spend every day worrying when I’d expose everything.
