Chapter 3
Aliya's POV
I splashed another handful of cold water on my face, watching as droplets ran down my cheeks where tears had been minutes before. The bathroom mirror reflected a woman I barely recognized—eyes puffy and red-rimmed, skin blotchy, mascara smeared beneath my lower lashes.
"Get it together," I whispered to myself, grabbing a paper towel. "Now is not the time to fall apart."
My hands trembled as I dug through my purse for my emergency makeup kit. Thank God for waterproof mascara. I dabbed concealer under my eyes, trying to hide the evidence of my breakdown.
Pregnant. The word kept echoing in my mind. After two years of trying, after all the disappointments, the negative tests, the doctor visits—I was finally pregnant. And my husband was in bed with another woman.
A sharp knock on the door made me jump.
"Aliya? Are you okay in there? The reporters are all here," Jenny called, concern evident in her voice.
I looked at my reflection one more time, forced my lips into what I hoped resembled a smile, and called back, "Coming!"
When I pulled open the door, Jenny's worried face greeted me. Her eyes scanned my appearance, clearly noticing something was wrong despite my efforts.
"Sorry for making you wait," I said, stepping into the hallway.
"You look... Are you feeling okay? You're really pale," Jenny frowned, studying my face.
I shook my head quickly. "I'm fine. Just tired from the flight."
Jenny glanced past me, looking confused. "Where's Evan? I thought he was meeting you here. Didn't he say you two would attend the conference together?"
My stomach clenched at the mention of his name. "He had an emergency," I managed to say, impressed by how steady my voice sounded. "We should go ahead without him."
I couldn't deal with him right now. The thought of hearing his voice, his excuses, his lies—it made me physically ill.
The last person I want to see right now is him.
The double doors to the conference room opened, and I was immediately blinded by camera flashes. Dozens of reporters sat in neat rows, their faces a blur of expectation and curiosity. I forced my lips into a practiced smile and raised my hand in a small wave.
The hotel's PR coordinator guided me to a chair at the front table. As I sat down, I felt the weight of every lens trained on me. Two years ago, this kind of attention had been normal. Now it felt suffocating.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the moderator began, "thank you all for joining us for this special press conference with Ms. Aliya Clayton."
I ran my hands down my skirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles, grateful for something to do with my trembling fingers. A microphone sat in front of me, waiting.
"We'll now take questions," the moderator announced, and hands shot up across the room.
I pointed to a familiar face in the front row, a journalist from Entertainment Weekly who had always been fair in her reporting.
"Ms. Clayton, how has your life been during these past two years away from the spotlight?"
My mind instantly flashed to moments with Evan. Us lounging on the private beach in Maui, his arms around me as we watched the sunset. The way he'd surprise me with breakfast in bed on random Sundays. The afternoon we spent painting the nursery a soft yellow, planning for a baby we hadn't been able to conceive. How after our stupid fights about nothing important, he'd always be the first to apologize, bringing me my favorite chocolate truffles.
I swallowed hard, pushing the memories away.
"It's been... fulfilling," I said carefully. "Life has its ups and downs, whether you're in the public eye or not. I've experienced both joy and challenges, like anyone else."
Another reporter jumped in. "Your hiatus began after you were injured during an action scene. Has your health fully recovered now?"
I nodded, grateful for the easy question. "Yes, I've completely healed. The doctors did an amazing job."
"Ms. Clayton," called out a reporter from the back, "what is the main purpose of today's press conference? There's been speculation about a major announcement."
My heart hammered in my chest. The original plan had been to announce my marriage to Evan, to finally make our private relationship public after two years. The words I'd rehearsed with him sat heavy in my throat.
Announce my marriage to Evan? After catching him in bed with another woman?
The silence stretched as reporters leaned forward, waiting. The moderator gave me an encouraging nod. I took a deep breath, my gaze sweeping across the expectant faces.
"I wanted to announce today that I've decided to return to acting," I heard myself say.
The room erupted in surprised murmurs and the rapid-fire clicks of cameras intensified. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jenny's jaw drop, her eyes wide with shock.
"Can you tell us about your upcoming projects?" someone shouted.
I smiled, trying to appear more confident than I felt. "The details are still being finalized. Today, I mainly wanted to share my decision with everyone."
"Your fans will be thrilled!" another reporter called out. "They've been waiting for your return for years!"
Something genuine warmed inside me at that. "I'm incredibly grateful for their support and patience. It means more than I can express."
More questions followed, faster than I could process. What kind of roles was I looking for? Had I signed with a studio? When would filming begin? I deflected as best I could, keenly aware I had no actual plans.
The moderator, sensing my struggle, stepped in. "Ms. Clayton will share more details about her projects in the coming weeks. For now, let's just celebrate her return to the industry."
After a few more questions, the press conference mercifully ended. I maintained my smile until I reached the private green room, closing the door behind me. The moment I was alone, my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the sofa.
My hands were shaking uncontrollably now. The smile I'd held for the cameras fell away instantly. My phone buzzed yet again—Evan's twelfth missed call. I ignored it.
A soft knock preceded Jenny entering the room. "Aliya, you were amazing out there! But..."
I looked up at her, feeling vulnerable for the first time since she'd become my assistant. "But what?"
"Was the comeback announcement... improvised?" She hesitated. "We haven't made any preparations, no agent contacts, no script readings..."
I opened my mouth to explain, but suddenly a violent wave of nausea hit me. "Sorry—" was all I managed before clapping my hand over my mouth.
I stumbled to the small attached bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before emptying my stomach. My body heaved as Jenny hovered anxiously behind me.
"Aliya! Are you sick? Should I call a doctor?"
I weakly waved her off. "No... I'm okay."
Jenny handed me a tissue and a bottle of water. "Is it stress? Or maybe something you ate on the plane?"
I leaned against the bathroom wall, my hand unconsciously drifting to my stomach. Pregnant. With Evan's child. After everything we'd been through to get here.
"We're going to be the best parents," he'd promised me once, his face so sincere I'd believed him completely.
I closed my eyes, trying to think rationally through the chaos of emotions. No matter how angry I was, Evan and I had too much history, too many entangled threads of life together. And now, there was something—someone—more important than either of us to consider.
"I need to talk to Evan," I said quietly. "At least hear his explanation. And tell him about... this." My hand pressed gently against my abdomen.
Jenny's face softened with concern. "Aliya, don't worry about the comeback announcement. We'll figure something out. Your health comes first."
I managed a weak smile. "Thanks. I think I need to find Evan first."
Twenty minutes later, I stood outside room 2308 again, my heart pounding. I knocked, but no one answered. Taking a deep breath, I swiped the keycard and pushed the door open.
The room had been cleaned, beds made, no sign of what had happened earlier. But the faint smell of sex still lingered in the air, a cruel reminder that I hadn't imagined it all.
"At least they cleared out without making me see them again," I muttered bitterly.
I scanned the room, ready to leave, when a piece of paper on the desk caught my eye. I picked it up, and my heart nearly stopped.
It was a pregnancy confirmation form. With Lily White's name printed clearly at the top.
The paper trembled in my grip as darkness crowded the edges of my vision. "She's pregnant too," I whispered, the words burning my throat.
I leaned against the wall for support as the cold reality hit me: both I and my husband's mistress were carrying his children.