When I unlocked my phone, a message popped up from Chloe:
The unloved one is always the third wheel.
A moment later, my phone rang. It was Andrew:
“Rachel Moore, Dad wants us to go back to the Family Estate. Get ready, I’ll pick you up later.”
“Alright.”
I ordered all the imported health supplements I had bought abroad to be delivered, waiting for Andrew to arrive.
But instead, Chloe sat smugly in the passenger seat, looking frail as she told me, “Sister, I get carsick. Could you sit in the back?”
I didn’t reply, only looked at Andrew. He avoided my eyes, cleared his throat, and said,
“Something came up with work, so I brought Chloe along.”
“Besides, Chloe isn’t an outsider.”
Indeed, Chloe was never treated as an outsider.
Even before our marriage, she often accompanied Andrew to public events. People mistook her for his fiancée, and he never once corrected them.
Over time, everyone believed Chloe was his bride-to-be.
And Andrew let them.
Even after our wedding, pressured by Mr. Smith, Andrew only posted online:
“Not a lover, but closer than one.”
Fearing our marriage might be cold, Mr. Smith often summoned us back to the Family Estate to stay a few days.