Chapter 4 Trophy Wife

The other guy laughed. “But Meryl’s a real knockout, isn’t she? With that face and figure, she’d turn heads anywhere. Keeping her around as a trophy wife wouldn’t be so bad.”

He glanced at Dalton, tossing a card onto the table. “Dalton, are you really okay with letting someone else have her?”

Dalton finally spoke, his tone flat and uninterested. “You want her? She’s yours.”

The guy was taken aback, unsure if Dalton was serious or just messing with him, and chuckled awkwardly. “Everyone knows Meryl’s been devoted to you. She’s followed you around all these years. I guess I’m not that lucky.”

Outside the door, Meryl was stunned, her face twisting into a bitter smile. It was well known that she loved Dalton, but hearing him casually offer her up like a prize was a painful blow.

The sting of humiliation made her eyes well up. She clenched her fists tightly, feeling overwhelmed by a suffocating sense of betrayal. She remembered being fourteen, new to the city from a small town.

Her dad, Malcolm Stone, had put her in an elite school. It was supposed to be a fresh start, but Lydia Stone’s schemes ruined it fast. One day, during a brutal snowstorm, they locked Meryl in an outdoor bathroom stall.

She was freezing and terrified. She screamed for help until she lost her voice, but no one came. Then, Dalton kicked the door open.

She could still picture it clear as day. It was freezing cold, and there he was, with the blizzard raging behind him. His unbuttoned uniform flapped in the wind, wet hair sticking to his forehead.

In the dim light, she couldn’t see his face clearly, but she remembered him taking off his scarf and tossing it to her. “Here, take this,” he said, turning away without looking back.

To fourteen-year-old Meryl, seventeen-year-old Dalton was a hero, her first beacon of hope. From that moment, she had loved him deeply, chasing him for seven years.

But now, she was just something he could give away.

As the phone rang, someone called out to her from behind. “Meryl? You’re back?”

She glanced at her phone, ended the call, and turned to see who it was. Her mother, Bianca Stone, looked surprised and approached with a skeptical expression. “When did you get out?”

How ridiculous. Bianca remembered Lydia’s birthday but forgot Meryl’s release.

“You’ve lost so much weight,” she said, frowning as she looked Meryl over. “A little hardship can be good for you. It teaches you lessons. Your father and I won’t hold the past against you. Today’s both your and your sister’s birthday. Change into a dress quickly.”

Then, as if remembering something, she added, “Oh, right. Since you’ve been gone for three years, your room is now a game room. Change in your sister’s room for now. I’ll have someone bring the clothes to you.”

Meryl was pushed into Lydia’s room. The moment she stepped inside, the strong perfume made her stomach churn. She rushed to the bathroom, trying not to gag.

Just then, the sound of footsteps outside the door signaled the maid’s arrival with the dress. Meryl leaned over the sink, her eyes red from vomiting. Once the nausea passed, she washed her face and went back to the room.

The maid was waiting inside, eyeing Meryl up and down as she came out.

“I’m not pregnant,” Meryl said, knowing what the maid was thinking. She had been so sick that her eyes were still bloodshot, making her look extremely weak. “Tell Lydia not to make a fuss about this.”

The maid gave a somewhat embarrassed smile. “Don’t misunderstand. I wasn’t thinking that. Just get dressed and come downstairs quickly. Mrs. Stone is waiting for you.”

Meryl knew the birthday party was for Lydia, and she was just an afterthought. Not wanting to fake sisterly affection with Lydia while feeling nauseous, she went to the kitchen to get some food.

She had barely eaten a few bites when someone knocked on the door. It was the same maid. “Mrs. Stone needs to see you. Miss, please come downstairs!”

Meryl took her time finishing her last bite before looking up. “I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to go downstairs.”

The maid was taken aback, clearly not expecting Meryl to refuse. “Madam said it’s not appropriate for you to miss today’s event. It would look bad if you and Ms. Lydia Stone aren’t seen together.”

“When have Lydia and I ever been on good terms?”

The maid was momentarily speechless, but fortunately, Meryl had already gotten up and was heading out.

In the grand hall, Lydia, dressed to the nines, was surrounded by a group of wealthy young ladies. She held a glass of white wine, about to take a sip when a sudden, startling voice interrupted.

“Ms. Lydia Stone, don’t drink that wine! It’s been tampered with!”