Melisa's eyes narrowed the moment her gaze landed on the woman in a deep blue evening gown. Hair tied into a faultless chignon, lips painted with ruthless precision, and a stare that could slice through silk.
Ah. Another walking power suit with diamonds.
"She's really Aunt Eleanor's sister?" Melisa murmured, not bothering to hide her skepticism.
Leonard, ever the human Wikipedia for awkward family introductions, spoke flatly, "Younger sister. Unlike Mom's gentleness, she's... direct."
That was one way to put it. Melisa preferred blunt instrument, but sure.
Mrs. Raynold turned toward them, her expression unreadable—cool, composed, and just a little bored. The kind of look you wore after devouring five CEOs for breakfast and deciding dessert wasn't worth your time.
"Mrs. Raynold," Leonard greeted, polite as ever. "This is Melisa, my wife."
Titles. Formalities. No emotion. Not even a twitch.
Mrs. Raynold lifted a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Still hiding behind titles? When are you going to call me 'Aunt,' Leo? Or does marriage come with regression?"
Leonard gave the ghost of a smile. A flicker. Blink and you'd miss it. But not a single word in return.
Melisa stepped forward, offering a smile dipped in politeness and mild survival instincts. "It's lovely to meet you."
Mrs. Raynold studied her like she was examining an auction piece. "So you're the infamous Melisa. I've heard quite a bit."
"Well," Melisa replied, voice pleasant, "I hope the gossip was entertaining."
A low chuckle. "Let's say… unexpected. You're not what I imagined. Though you carry yourself well. Unlike what the tabloids suggested."
Of course. Because women who get married last-minute in someone else's dress don't usually get glowing Yelp reviews.
Mrs. Raynold sipped her champagne and added, ever so casually, "That marriage wasn't supposed to happen. I was surprised."
Melisa tilted her head. "Surprised?"
"Oh, come now." She smirked. "Leo doesn't do anything he doesn't want to. Not unless there's a very good reason."
Melisa's gaze shifted to Leonard. His face was a mask, fixed on his silver watch like it suddenly contained the secrets of the universe.
So that's how it was?
She turned back to the older woman. "Are you saying… he had a choice?"
Mrs. Raynold shrugged, unconcerned. "My sister and her husband can barely convince a dog to sit. If Leo went through with it, then he chose it. Simple as that."
And just like that, the ground cracked under her.
Melisa's fingers curled tighter around her glass.
Leo… chose?
Her breath slowed, too slow. Her heartbeat quickened, too fast. The air felt suddenly sharp in her lungs.
He had a choice? And he still went through with the marriage?
So either—
He chose to marry Olivia.
And ended up with her.
An accident.
A mistake.
Collateral damage.
But… then why the confession?
Why the warmth in his gaze, those lingering looks, the tiny flickers of something that almost felt real?
Was it all for show?
A sharp pang twisted in her chest. Was it all to get closer to Olivia? To appease the Everharts? A backup plan after things went off-script?
Aunt Raynold took another sip, entirely unfazed. "Relax, Leo. You're getting jumpy. And look at that, you finally called me Aunt."
Leonard's jaw tightened. "This conversation is over."
But Melisa was no longer present. Not really.
Her thoughts had already spiraled off a cliff.
So he had a choice. He wasn't tricked. Not blackmailed. Not dragged. He walked into that marriage on his own.
Then why did he look at her like she mattered?
She felt nauseous.
He must have wanted Olivia. He didn't even know I was the one that day. If everything went smoothly, she would've been the bride. Not me.
I ruined it.
I ruined what he wanted.
"Melisa?" Leonard's voice broke through her haze, worry creeping into his tone. "You look pale. Should I take you home?"
"I'm fine." She lied through her teeth with a smile that barely qualified as human. "Just the bathroom. Be back soon."
She didn't wait for permission. She needed space. Air. A mirror to scream at.
Melisa walked away, her heels silent against the floor but her thoughts thundering.
I ruined his plans. I stepped into a role meant for someone else. And now… now what?
Was everything a lie?
He was kind. But maybe he was just trying to make the most of a bad situation. Maybe he was trying to keep things civil before tossing her aside.
The prophecy in her dream never said how the ending came—only that it did.
And now? Now she was starting to see the cracks. No dream could lie like this.
She reached the restroom, locked the door, and gripped the porcelain sink like it was the last honest thing in the world.
The cold seeped into her skin. Still not enough to ground her.
He didn't even know it was me that day.
Then why did he say those things to me later?
Her reflection stared back—tired, pale, confused. Melisa Everhart, the understudy in someone else's show.
The woman he confessed to. The one he married. The one he—what? Tolerated?
For Olivia?
A bitter laugh escaped her lips.
So that was it. A mistake he was forced to manage. And now she was reading too much into things like a fool.
Of course.
Melisa let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes.
She'd forgotten one thing.
She was never the lead in this story.
She was the ghost who walked in at the wrong time and stayed too long.