Chapter 3

Anna POV

JFK Airport was a sea of moving bodies, all rushing somewhere important while I stood still, scanning the arrivals board. Vera's flight from Paris had landed twenty minutes ago, which meant she'd be emerging from customs any minute now.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, tugging at the sleeve of my navy blazer. The jacket was part of my "proper Mrs. Frost" uniform that I'd thrown on this morning—tailored jeans, white button-down, and simple flats—an outfit that said "I'm put together" without trying too hard. Though honestly, why I even bothered was beyond me. Vera would show up looking like she'd stepped off a runway regardless.

I checked my phone again. No texts from Edward asking if I'd picked up his precious Vera yet. Of course not.

The memory of last night—his coldness, his back turned to me as I left his room—still stung. And now here I was, playing chauffeur to the woman who should have been in my place. The woman who, by all accounts, still had more claim to Edward's attention than I did.

I moved closer to the arrivals gate, positioning myself where I could see the passengers emerging but remain partially hidden behind a column. Old habits die hard; I'd spent years learning to observe without being seen.

That's when I heard them.

"...honestly, Vera, I don't understand why you're being so calm about all this." The voice was crisp, cultured, dripping with the kind of entitled irritation that only comes from old money.

I peered around the column. Rebecca Taylor—sleek blonde bob, designer sunglasses perched unnecessarily on her head indoors, Louis Vuitton carry-on rolling behind her. And beside her, Vera, looking effortlessly elegant in a cream cashmere sweater and tailored pants despite the transatlantic flight.

"What do you expect me to do, Rebecca?" Vera's voice was soft, reasonable. Always so reasonable.

"Fight for what's yours! Edward has been yours since you were children. Everyone knows it. This arrangement with... her... it's just business." Rebecca's perfectly manicured hand made a dismissive gesture. "Edward from childhood has always preferred you. That's common knowledge in Upper East Side circles."

I felt my stomach clench. This wasn't new information, but hearing it stated so baldly still hit like a slap.

"It's complicated," Vera murmured, adjusting the strap of her Chanel bag. "Edward has obligations."

"Obligations! Please." Rebecca rolled her eyes. "That marriage is a joke. Two years and still no baby? After she lost the first one? Everyone's talking."

My hands curled into fists. The miscarriage. Of course that would be gossip fodder for these vultures. Three months, and the wound was still raw, still bleeding whenever someone poked at it.

I stepped out from behind the column, my face carefully arranged into a neutral expression. "Vera. Welcome back."

Both women froze, eyes widening slightly before their society masks slipped back into place. Vera recovered first, her perfect smile appearing as if by magic.

"Anna," she said, stepping forward. "You came to pick me up."

Not "thank you for coming". Just a statement of fact, tinged with the faintest hint of surprise.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "Where's Edward? I would have thought he'd want to welcome Vera himself."

The implication was clear: Edward should have been here for Vera, not sending his placeholder wife.

I met her gaze steadily. "Edward has meetings all day. He asked me to come." I kept my voice calm, matter-of-fact. "He's looking forward to seeing Vera at dinner."

Rebecca's perfectly glossed lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Is he really busy, or did you not want him to come? Afraid to leave those two alone together?"

My patience snapped. I pulled my iPhone from my pocket and held it out to her. "Edward asked me to come, but if you don't believe me, you're welcome to call him right now. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to have his board meeting interrupted to confirm his wife's whereabouts."

Rebecca's eyes widened fractionally.

"Rebecca, don't," Vera said softly, placing a hand on her friend's arm. "Anna was kind enough to come get me. Let's not make this difficult."

Kind enough. As if I were doing her a favor, not fulfilling a duty assigned by my husband.

"You're too good-hearted, Vera," Rebecca muttered, loud enough for me to hear. "That's what lets people walk all over you."

I pretended not to hear, tucking my phone away. "I've got the car waiting. Shall we?"

The ride to the baggage claim was silent and tense. I walked slightly ahead, giving them space while staying close enough to hear any further comments. There were none. Rebecca knew when she'd been caught.

After collecting Vera's matching set of designer luggage, we headed toward the parking garage. I'd driven myself today, opting for my own Audi rather than asking Thompson to bring one of the Frost family cars. A small rebellion, but it felt necessary.

As I loaded the last of Vera's bags into the trunk, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and felt a familiar sinking in my stomach. Elizabeth Parker. My mother—biologically, at least.