The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 386

“Alright,” Mrs. Bishop said with a small smile. “But you don’t have to say you’re sorry. We’re husband and wife; we don’t need that between us.”

Donald took her hand. “You’ve put up with so much over the years.”

She squeezed his hand back. “When I married you, you were completely honest with me. You told me your heart belonged to another woman and that you would probably love her for the rest of your life. I accepted that with my eyes wide open. There’s nothing to feel wronged about.”

“I still feel like I’ve failed you,” Donald said, his voice thick with guilt.

“If you truly feel that way, then please, for my sake, try to accept what happened and move on.”

Donald fell silent.

Mrs. Bishop let out a soft sigh. “I asked Jack about it earlier. He said… he said Edith went to him back then over a dress. To be honest, I just don’t understand it.”

Donald’s brow tightened. He hated dredging up the past, but the weight of it was suffocating him, and he needed to let some of it out.

“After I cut ties with my family, life was hard. I couldn't get any decent roles, so I was stuck taking bit parts. My monthly income, after buying her art supplies, left just enough for us to scrape by.”

“But I always felt that time was the happiest of my entire life. Maybe… maybe she didn’t see it that way.”

“Once, we were out walking, and she stood for the longest time in front of a boutique window. I knew she’d fallen in love with a white dress on one of the mannequins. I promised I would buy it for her on her birthday. I was so confident I could, because I’d just landed a job as a stunt double.”

As he spoke, a profound sadness settled over his features.

“On the first day of filming, a crew member made a mistake. I fell from the second story, missed the safety mat, and hit the concrete below. I was knocked out cold. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, and Edith was there by my side.”

“My father said she did come to the Bishop family estate to find you once,” Mrs. Bishop said quietly. “But he gave her a choice: you, or five million dollars. She chose the five million.”

“Yes. After that, I finally gave up hope.”

“And she never tried to find you again.”

Penelope frowned. Her mother may not have returned to the Bishop estate, but she herself had. On that stormy night, she had cried and begged them to save her mother.

Which meant Mrs. Bishop was lying.

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