Chapter 1
It had been twenty-four hours since Anastasia Wilder’s accident.
The window for damage control was long gone.
The top trending hashtag still paired Bastien Moreau and Anastasia’s names. Stories about their rekindled romance flooded Redict, threatening Ophelia.
After all this time, with no PR team stepping in, no statements issued—Bastien’s silence spoke volumes about where his heart truly was.
Ophelia sat in their empty living room, gripping the doctor’s diagnosis paper, his words still ringing in her mind.
“The tumor is substantial, Ms. Hartley. Surgery has risks, but without it,your life could be at risk at any moment. You should call your husband and check into the hospital immediately.”
She’d called Bastien without details, just asking him to come to the hospital.
He’d agreed at first.
But after an hour of nothing, she called again only to find his phone off.
His assistant Jack finally told her”He caught the team jet to Phoenix.”
“Phoenix? Why?”
“Check your phone, Mrs. Moreau,” Jack said awkwardly. “It’s all over the racing news.”
The headline hit her like a physical blow: “Explosion at Desert Speedway—Star Driver Anastasia Wilder Hospitalized with Burns.”
Reading this, Ophelia hugged herself tighter.
She called her brother from the hospital hallway, only realizing after the phone connected that it was already 3 AM in London. She hung up quickly.
Back at home, she tried calling Bastien seven times. No answer.
Ophelia wasn’t the type to cling, usually giving up after two calls. But tonight, she wanted him to pick up even if I have a fight with her.
Regrettably,he never picked up.Helplessness hit her like a ton of bricks.
The Hartleys and Moreaus are generational friends. Ophelia and Bastien grew up from childhood, and everyone thought their marriage was a done deal.
For five years, Bastien had been…lukewarm.
She’d told herself their relationship had just settled into a new period. That passion naturally fades with time.
Until today—when Bastien dropped everything for Anastasia. The stock prices are plummeting, sponsorships started pulling back, but none of it seemed to bother him.
The “comfortable marriage” was nothing more than a lie she told herself.
When Bastien’s parents called, Ophelia almost didn’t answer. But then Mrs. Moreau texted“Where is Bastien?”
She didn’t want see anyone now.
“Have you heard from him?” His mom asked softly when Ophelia finally picked up.
“No,” she whispered, barely able to get the word out.
A pause. Then”Be relax, honey. You’re family to us. I’ll make sure he comes home and apologize to you.”
Ophelia’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. She wanted to tell her it was too late for that.
But Bastien’s parents had always been kind to her. She didn’t want to blame them.
“I’m fine.Just… can’t deal with the reporters right now.”
“You don’t have to. We’ll handle them. Take care of yourself.”
Minutes after hanging up, Bastien finally called.
“Why all the calls,what’s happening?” His voice was ice-cold, like she was stranger, not his wife of five years.
“Nothing,” she said quietly.
Silence stretched, and then someone in the background called out”Ms. Wilder’s awake.”
“I’ll be right there.”
The call ended abruptly, leaving Ophelia with nothing but the dial tone.
Bastien and Anastasia had been college sweethearts—that classic on-again.
Ophelia had been at school on the other side of the country, learing about their news from occasional social media posts.
She’d had a crush on Bastien since they were teenagers,and Bastien’d always known it.
When he started dating Anastasia, Ophelia had been sadness for months. Watching their relationship from afar, she’d tried to bury her feelings.
Then came Mike’s wedding. Bastien caught the bride’s bouquet on a whim and, buzzed on champagne, impulsively turned to propose to Ophelia right there.
She couldn’t embarrass him in front of everyone, so she said yes.
Later, she tried to take it back—tell him it was a mistake, that they could pretend it never happened. But Bastien pursued her relentlessly from that day.They married within the year.
She had entered the marriage full of hope, only to find emotional distance waiting for her.
Their life together had been… quiet.
Now, she realized Bastien had never gotten over Anastasia.
So, what was she? Anastasia substitute?
Pain sliced through her chest. The room spun as she curled up on the couch, her body shaking uncontrollably.
When she felt better, she called her brother.
“Connor? I’m coming to London soon.”
“Is Bastien coming too?”
“No. Just me.”
The line went silent. “Everything okay?”
Standing by the window, the cold air biting at her tear-streaked face, Ophelia felt her throat tighten.
“Yeah, fine. Remember how I mentioned that master’s program at Imperial? I finally have time for it. Bastien’s swamped with the racing season. He might come over for Christmas.”
Connor’s relief was palpable.
“When are you thinking? I’ll have Margo book your flight.”
“Don’t worry about it. A few weeks later. I’ll handle it and call you when I arrive.”
After a few more minutes of small talk, they hung up.
Ophelia carefully folded the diagnosis paper and tucked it into her desk drawer.
A quiet exit was best for everyone.
