From The Background Wife To His Unreachable Memory

Inside the CEO's office at TrueLight Group, Stella Williams-an award-winning actress-flung a pregnancy test report onto the desk before Verena Jones, her chin lifted with unmistakable triumph.

"I'm carrying Mr. Hughes' child," she said, her tone edged with smug certainty.

Without so much as lifting her gaze, Verena remained seated, her posture composed as she responded in an even, almost indifferent voice, "You're number forty-two."

Shock flickered across Stella's face, her confidence faltering as confusion overtook her expression. "What... what did you just say?"

Only then did Verena slowly raise her eyes, her calm gaze settling on Stella as she idly tapped the pen against her fingertips.

"You were the forty-second woman to show up in front of me with the same tired act. You want into the Hughes family? Then at least come up with something less childish." Verena's gaze dropped to the report on the desk, and a mocking smile touched her lips. "I had watched this little drama play out more times than I could count. Honestly, your act wasn't even convincing."

Stella had won Best Actress twice, and hearing Verena dismiss her performance so casually felt like a slap to the face.

Looking at Verena with open scorn, she snapped, "The child I'm carrying is Brayden Hughes'. I'm not like those other women. Sooner or later, I'll take your place."

Tension coiled through Stella as her fingers curled into tight fists, her knuckles paling with suppressed fury. Across from her, Verena remained effortlessly composed, that calm indifference only sharpening Stella's irritation.

Sinking into her office chair, Verena rested back with casual ease, as if scenes like this were nothing new to her.

Over the course of three years as Brayden's wife, she had dealt with one scandal after another, facing down countless women until managing them became something she could do with practiced ease.

Whether it was some old lover or just a passing temptation, Verena intended to keep every one of them far away from him.

After three years as Brayden's wife, she had no intention of letting anyone take her place.

"Finished yet? Miss Williams, you came straight to TrueLight Group to confront me in broad daylight. Aren't you worried about landing yourself in tomorrow's headlines?" Unshaken, Verena lifted her eyes to Stella, her expression utterly calm.

Speechless for a moment, Stella couldn't find a comeback. She was a public figure, a two-time best actress with a polished image to protect. If Brayden hadn't given her permission to come here and needle Verena, she never would have gambled her future on something like this.

After sweeping her gaze around the office and confirming there were no cameras in sight, Stella grew bolder. Brayden's earlier words echoed in her mind, feeding her confidence.

With a scornful lift of her chin, she sneered, "If I get to become Brayden's wife, why would I care about some best actress reputation? You've been married to him for three years and still haven't given him a child. Maybe you should start asking yourself why that is. I've only been with Brayden for a month, and I'm already pregnant. If you know what's good for you, you'll divorce him now. That'll save you a lot of pain later."

Keeping her eyes locked on Verena, Stella waited for the reaction she was sure would come. She refused to believe any woman could hear words like that and stay calm.

By all accounts, Verena was supposed to have fallen apart by now.

But Verena stayed composed from beginning to end, and Stella couldn't spot a single crack she could use.

With things turning out like this, she had no idea how she was supposed to explain it to Brayden.

A quiet laugh slipped from Verena's lips. Lifting one brow, she said, "Miss Williams, if you're so determined to keep that child, then go ahead and have it. The Hughes family can certainly afford to support an illegitimate child."

Her tone remained mild and even, but the phrase "illegitimate child" still landed like a slap.

Stunned by those words, Stella stood there speechless for a long moment.

Rising from her chair, Verena stepped out from behind the desk and calmly reached for the coat hanging nearby, shrugging it on with unhurried grace. "I know exactly what kind of man Brayden is. He's caused me more than enough trouble over the years. But if he expects me to bring up divorce, he'll need to come up with a better trick next time. You can see yourself out. Or would you like me to have my secretary escort you downstairs?"

With that, Verena tipped up her chin, a quiet, unmistakable signal for Stella to see herself out.

Faced with Verena's unnerving composure, Stella forgot every cutting line and dramatic reaction she had rehearsed on the way over.

Confusion washed through her, and she could not understand why Verena was not angry in the slightest.

Everyone knew Verena and Brayden had never gotten along, that they lived separate lives under the same roof and maintained nothing more than a marriage in name.

Even so, Stella still found it almost impossible to believe Verena could stay so unmoved at the sight of her husband's mistress standing right in front of her.

She could not tell whether Verena had truly gone numb to it all simply because too many women had come before her.

For the first time, Stella looked at Verena not as a rival, but as a woman, and an unexpected flicker of pity rose in her chest.

She fixed Verena with a sharp stare and demanded, "Can you really live in a loveless marriage? Or would you put up with anything for money? Are you honestly willing to raise your husband's illegitimate child as your own?"

Without the slightest ripple of emotion, Verena crossed to the sofa, lowered herself onto it, and poured a cup of coffee with steady hands. "When a man is determined to stray, no woman can stop him. That's why you never marry a man for love. You marry him for the advantages he can give you, because those are the only things you can truly hold in your own hands."

Lifting her gaze, she added in the same calm tone, "Miss Williams, you've survived in the entertainment industry for years. Don't tell me you haven't figured that out by now."

Those words hit Stella so hard she froze where she stood, momentarily too stunned to speak. After a long beat, fury twisted across her face. She snatched the pregnancy test report off the desk, glared at Verena with blazing eyes, and spat, "I'll make sure Brayden leaves you."

With that threat hanging in the air, Stella spun on her heel, shoved the door open, and strode out without another glance back.

For a long moment, Verena's eyes lingered on the direction Stella had gone. Her fingers tightened around the cup until her knuckles blanched, the faint heat seeping into her skin unnoticed. Only when a sting rose behind her eyes did she finally look away.

Gone was that effortless composure Verena had worn so well moments ago. A faint, bitter curve touched her lips, something almost mocking flickering in her gaze.

Her mind kept circling Stella's words, replaying them with quiet cruelty. Could she really accept raising another woman's child for Brayden... and feel nothing about it?

The answer surfaced quickly, sharp and undeniable. Of course she couldn't.

Yet reality pressed in just as fast-heavy, inescapable. She didn't have a choice.

Childhood memories drifted up unbidden. Growing up at his side, she had fallen for Brayden long before she understood what that feeling meant. For more than ten years, she had trailed behind him, chasing his shadow, hoping that one day he might finally notice her. To stand beside him, she had forced herself into a path she was never suited for, choosing public relations despite struggling with it at every turn. Then, she had willingly married into the Hughes family, accepting a calculated alliance just for the chance to be with him.

She had poured herself into the Hughes family business, working late nights and early mornings, all for the faint hope that Brayden might finally reciprocate her feelings.

Through three hollow years of marriage, however, all she received in return were endless scandals and a steady stream of brazen provocations from the women circling him.

Rarely did she even see him; and whenever their paths crossed, his attitude toward her remained icy, distant, almost cruel. Even the moments they shared in bed felt mechanical and devoid of warmth. He had made it clear he wanted no children, so she quietly kept up with the birth control pills without complaint.

Across those three years, she had been nothing more than a convenient instrument-someone he used to manage the Hughes family and to fulfill his physical needs.

Disappointment had long since taken root in her heart, yet the quiet, stubborn love she had carried for him since her youth refused to let go, keeping her tethered to a marriage she couldn't bring herself to abandon.

Drawing in a slow breath, Verena pressed down the bitter tide rising in her chest, forcing her expression back into composure. Once she steadied herself, she headed downstairs.

No sooner had she stepped out of the company building than a swarm of reporters surged forward, flashing lights bursting in her face.

Voices erupted all around her. "She's here!"

The reporters surged forward in a chaotic wave, nearly jamming their microphones into Verena's face. Camera flashes burst nonstop, sharp and blinding, as question after question came at her like blows.

"Mrs. Hughes, were you aware of the recent scandal involving Mr. Hughes and the famous actress Stella Williams?"

"There are rumors that Stella is pregnant with Mr. Hughes' child and plans to marry into the Hughes family with the child. What do you think about that?"

"Are you going to put up with this for the sake of the family's interests, or are you planning to divorce Mr. Hughes?"

"You and Mr. Hughes have been married for three years and still don't have a child. Some people are saying you're infertile. Is that true?"

"Can you tell us whether you and Mr. Hughes have actually been having problems in your marriage?"

"Mrs. Hughes, could you please respond to our questions?"

Relentless voices pressed in from every direction, each question cutting sharper than the last, like salt ground mercilessly into Verena's open wound.

A flicker of irritation surfaced beneath Verena's composed exterior, her patience thinning as the noise closed in around her.

During those three years, she had long since lost count of how many scandals she'd cleaned up for Brayden, each one more humiliating than the last.

Yet he never once showed any intention of stopping-if anything, it felt deliberate, as though he were using these public embarrassments to corner her into filing for divorce.

Her thoughts drifted back to the post she had stumbled across that morning, shared by a mutual friend she and Brayden both knew. From that single update, she learned that Mila Dawson-Brayden's most cherished woman-had quietly returned.

Understanding dawned with a bitter edge. That had to be why he was suddenly so desperate to push her into a divorce.

Suspicion tightened in her chest as another realization followed-he had to be the one who tipped off the reporters about Stella showing up at the company.

After all, without Brayden's explicit approval, no reporter would have dared to stir up trouble so brazenly at TrueLight Group.

Even so, Verena refused to swallow this quietly.

As his lawful wife, she wasn't meant to be the one standing there, enduring public humiliation-nor was she meant to be cornered and pressured by everyone into divorcing him.

Her fingers curled tightly into her palms, nails biting into her skin as the fragile restraint she'd clung to finally snapped. All the resentment and quiet suffering she had buried deep inside surged upward in a choking wave, Stella's cruel words pressing down on her chest until it felt impossible to breathe.

Abruptly, Verena lifted her gaze. A sharp, almost dazzling smile spread across her face as her eyes landed on the nearest reporter. "Brayden has a low sperm count, and he barely lasts five minutes in bed. Instead of worrying about him cheating, maybe I should be worried about other women cheating him-and I might even feel sorry for him should that happen."

If he had chosen to fan the flames and turn her life into a spectacle, then she would make sure he burned in it too.

A sudden hush swept over the reporters.

Stunned disbelief flickered across their faces, leaving them momentarily speechless.

Not one of them had expected Verena to say something so brutal in public.

Once the silence broke, cameras clicked in a frantic storm as they snapped photo after photo of her getting into her car and driving away from the TrueLight Group building. Before long, her explosive remark had been turned into an article and posted online. Within minutes, the post shot up the trending charts and spread across the internet like wildfire.

Brayden made his way into the main conference room at TrueLight Group's headquarters, having just come in from outside for the meeting.

The moment he crossed the threshold, a subtle unease settled over him.

Around the table, his executives wore strained, unnatural expressions, their gazes flickering away the instant they met his. Though each of them tried to compose themselves, the tension lingered-thinly veiled curiosity mixed with something that looked disturbingly like pity.

A shadow crept across Brayden's face. Ignoring the odd atmosphere, he pulled out his chair, his movements deliberate as he prepared to begin.

Before he could speak, however, the door burst open. One of his assistants, Nate Bailey, hurried in, breath uneven. "Mr. Hughes."

With his phone squeezed in his hand, Nate stood there, drenched in sweat.

A faint crease touched Brayden's brow as his dark, steady gaze settled on Nate.

With one long finger, he gave the table a light tap and asked in a calm, authoritative voice, "What is it?"

Nate gulped, brushed the cold sweat from his forehead, and quickly held out the phone.

Taking it without a word, Brayden lowered his eyes to the screen.

Bit by bit, the look in his eyes turned colder.

For a long moment, he said nothing at all.

Time itself seemed to grind to a halt.

Across the glaring screen, a cascade of trending topics stabbed into his vision-"Low Sperm Count," "Brayden Hughes Impotent," and "Brayden Hughes Tricked"-each one more vicious than the last.

Looming beneath them, a grotesque headline flashed. "Can Someone with Low Sperm Count Get a Woman Pregnant?"

One after another, the words sank in. With every headline he read, Brayden's expression hardened, shadows gathering across his face until it turned cold and ominous.

His jaw locked so hard that the muscles in his face gave a faint, angry twitch, and a chilling, oppressive force seemed to pour off him.

Under his breath, he cursed, wondering if Verena had completely lost her mind.

Then he opened the interview video, and as Verena's words played through the speaker, the hand gripping the phone tightened until his knuckles blanched with fury.

Without a word, he shoved back his chair and strode out of the conference room. The stunned executives could only trade baffled looks, none of them certain whether the meeting had just been dismissed.

Everyone assumed Brayden had lost his composure because he was genuinely impotent.

Brayden didn't know what his subordinates were whispering behind his back. All he could think about was punishing Verena.

He drove home at a reckless speed, fury riding with him the entire way. The second he stepped through the front door, the housekeeper, Jayde Foster, hurried over with a practiced smile. "Mr. Hughes."

"Where's Verena?" The question came out flat and icy.

Startled by the look in his eyes, Jayde faltered and answered in a shaky voice, "She's... she's upstairs."

Without another word, Brayden stormed up to the second floor. By the time he shoved open the bedroom door, Verena had just come out of the bathroom, fresh from her shower.

Not a flicker of surprise crossed her face when Brayden's temper finally snapped.

Casually lifting a towel, she began drying her damp hair, deliberately ignoring him as she brushed past his rigid frame.

Just as she moved by, his hand shot out and clamped around her wrist. In the next instant, he yanked her back and pressed her hard against the wall. Without uttering a word at first, he leaned in, his lowered gaze icy and intense as it locked onto her face. "How could you stand in front of reporters and spin that kind of lie? You know better than anyone whether I'm potent, don't you?"

While the words left his lips, a dangerous heat flickered behind his dark eyes.

Trapped beneath that piercing stare, Verena couldn't shake the uneasy feeling rising in her chest.

Of course, she knew perfectly well that Brayden was anything but impotent. Love had never been part of the equation, yet in a twisted, inexplicable way, he had always been intensely fixated on her body.

Ever since their marriage, whenever desire struck him, he would drag her into it without restraint, never satisfied until he had taken what he wanted again and again. Only when her voice broke into helpless sobs, pleading for him to stop, would he finally relent.

Control had always been his nature-unyielding, forceful, leaving no room for anyone else's will.

Whether it was in bed, at work, when he ordered her to take birth control, or when he forced her to confront his mistresses, her feelings had never once mattered to him.

Over the past three years, she realized, he had grown accustomed to her silence, her obedience, her quiet acceptance of everything he imposed. That was why her sudden defiance now ignited such fury in him.

After all, a man so consumed by pride would never tolerate being challenged.

At the thought of this, a sharp sense of self-pity washed over Verena.

While she could endure the petty provocations from other women, Mila was different-Mila was the one Brayden held closest to his heart, and that made her impossible to ignore. What stung far more, however, was the way he had schemed behind her back, manipulating everything just to push her into a divorce for Mila's sake.

Mila had long since become an unbearable thorn lodged deep beneath her skin.

Her hands curled into tight fists at her sides before slowly loosening again. A sudden weakness washed over Verena, leaving her drained. She couldn't even tell what she had truly gained from clinging to this marriage all this time.

Drawing in a slow, steady breath, she lifted her gaze and met Brayden's eyes, her expression cool but edged with quiet defiance. "I wouldn't call it spreading lies, would you? As far as I can tell, your performance isn't exactly impressive. Your technique lacks finesse, your stamina leaves much to be desired, and you don't even bother trying anything different. Honestly, I've never once enjoyed it. Didn't the other women ever mention that? Or were they simply too afraid to tell you the truth?"

Each cutting word Verena threw landed squarely on Brayden's pride, striking deeper than he expected. A dangerous darkness pooled in his eyes as his jaw tightened, the muscle ticking beneath his skin. A faint, mocking laugh slipped from his lips. "Looks like you've grown quite fearless, Verena, haven't you?"

Without warning, his fingers clamped around her chin, firm and unyielding, forcing her face upward until her gaze locked with his.

Disgust flickered through her chest.

"Let go of me," she snapped, twisting sharply in his grip.

His hold didn't loosen in the slightest. As she struggled, the towel barely clinging to her damp body slipped free and dropped silently to the floor.

Shock froze her in place.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, blooming across her skin in an instant.

Before she could react-before she could even bend to retrieve it-Brayden closed the distance and crushed his lips against hers. The kiss deepened with growing intensity as he pulled her closer, their bodies pressed tight, and he only released her when her breath turned unsteady.

Air tore from Verena's lungs as she struggled to pull back, yet Brayden's grip locked her in place. Something feral burned in his eyes, a dark hunger that made her feel as though he might swallow her whole.

"Let go of me!" Fear laced her voice; after three years beside him, she understood that look far too well.

Ignoring her protest completely, Brayden seized both her wrists in one hand and forced them above her head, pinning her with effortless strength. His other hand slid behind her head, fingers threading deep into her damp hair, anchoring her where she stood.

He kissed her with wild urgency, his movements intense and almost out of control.

All the strength drained from her body in an instant, her knees weakening beneath her.

"Brayden... wait... mm..." Her protests broke apart into soft, helpless fragments, each word swallowed before it could fully form. Desperation made her twist and struggle, trying to put distance between them, yet Brayden paid no attention at all, as if her resistance meant nothing.

With a swift, forceful motion, he lifted her off her feet and tossed her onto the bed.

"Brayden, stop-I don't want this..." Verena blurted out, panic tightening her voice.

Before she could even push herself up, his body pressed down over hers, trapping her in place. His hands roamed without restraint, coaxing and igniting sensations she couldn't suppress. The moment spiraled forward with reckless inevitability, and in the end, he took what he wanted from her.

Something in him seemed provoked by Verena's earlier words, driving him to be far rougher than before, relentless in a way that left her overwhelmed and struggling to endure. By the time he finally pulled away, satisfied, every ounce of strength had drained from her. Limply, she remained sprawled across the rumpled sheets, her body heavy and unresponsive.

Without a glance back, Brayden headed into the bathroom. Still lying there, Verena stared blankly at the soft, amber glow of the ceiling light, her thoughts drifting unwillingly into the past.

Three years earlier, Mila had gone overseas to continue her studies, and in her absence, the Jones and Hughes families had arranged their marriage. From the very beginning, Brayden had believed it was Verena who had forced Mila to leave. That conviction had never wavered. For three long years, he had treated her with nothing but cold indifference.

More than once, he had made it painfully clear-if she hadn't been the Jones family's daughter, the woman he would have married without hesitation... was Mila.

Determined to push her away, he had gone out of his way to act like a reckless playboy, using every trick he knew to drive her toward divorce.

For years, whispers about Brayden's affairs had never truly faded, and fresh rumors of a new woman at his side seemed to surface every few weeks.

Time and again, her brother had urged her to walk away from the marriage, yet she had always chosen to endure, clinging stubbornly to the feelings she had carried for Brayden since she was younger.

Now that Mila had returned to the country, it was obvious he would stop at nothing to force a divorce so he could openly be with Mila.

Rather than continue living under his cold disdain, Verena decided she might as well make the first move herself.

Just then, Brayden shoved the bathroom door open and strode out, steam clinging faintly to his skin. Crossing to the bed, he stared down at Verena with frigid contempt. As he rubbed his damp hair with a towel, a harsh, mocking smile tugged at his mouth. "You're not that impressive either. All you know how to do is throw a tantrum for attention."

Even after everything that had happened, he still believed today had been nothing more than another one of her petty schemes.

When Verena said nothing, Brayden turned away and began dressing at an unhurried pace. In a flat, indifferent voice, he said, "About Stella today..."

Before he could finish, Verena drew in a long, weary breath and finally said the words she had never once found the courage to speak. "Brayden, let's get a divorce."

After saying the word "divorce" out loud, Verena expected the weight of it to tear at her, yet nothing like that came. Instead, a strange calm settled over her, leaving her unaffected.

To her, this marriage, built on nothing but family interests, should have ended long ago.

Even if it wasn't what she wanted, she knew it was time to let go.

For a brief moment, Brayden's expression stiffened.

That reaction disappeared just as quickly, returning to his usual indifference.

"So this is your latest move?" he asked, taking his time as he continued getting dressed.

He didn't take her words seriously and had no intention of believing she would actually go through with a divorce.

Since the day they married, the Hughes and Jones families had grown more intertwined, and their relationship had long stopped being about just the two of them.

On top of that, everyone in Trauhsa knew how deeply she cared for him.

In his mind, it was Verena who had pushed Mila out of the country just to secure her place as his wife.

That thought erased the trace of warmth left from their earlier closeness.

There was no way he would allow anyone to harm Mila.

To him, Verena's greatest fault was targeting Mila.

Because of that, he had spent the past three years keeping Verena at a distance, making it clear that even as his wife, she meant nothing to him.

With these thoughts in mind, Brayden was certain Verena would never actually leave him.

In his eyes, her words were nothing more than a moment of anger spilling out.

"Verena, I'm running out of patience," he said, his voice turning colder. "I won't keep putting up with this kind of behavior. What happened with Stella affected the company, and I take responsibility for that. But it's already been dealt with. She won't-"

"Mila is back, right?" Verena cut in before he could finish as she pushed herself up on the bed.

Her gaze rested on him, steady and composed. Though her face had gone pale, the anger in her eyes was impossible to miss.

"You brought Mila back, had Stella show up at the company to make things difficult for me, and even pushed me toward divorce just so I'd step aside and make room for Mila, didn't you?" she said, a trace of mockery flickering in her eyes. "Stop pretending, Brayden."

For so long, she had fooled herself into believing that if she treated him well, he might one day respond.

To match his preferences, she changed the way she dressed. Knowing his stomach wasn't strong, she even learned to cook, preparing meals that were light and nourishing for him every single day.

Meanwhile, he spent his nights out with different women, and even stayed entangled with the woman he cherished the most. His other women even dared to come straight to her, some of them using pregnancy reports as leverage to push her out.

She had reached her limit.

There was no reason to keep lying to herself anymore.

Deep down, she finally accepted the truth. Brayden had never loved her, and he never would.

All at once, the feelings she had kept buried for years broke free, and her eyes turned red.

Everything she had endured, every bit of pain and frustration, came rushing over her.

"Brayden, let's end this. Let's get a divorce. After that, we won't owe each other anything," Verena said, forcing herself to stay composed as she lifted her head and repeated it.

The feelings she once had, the admiration from when she was younger, and every effort she made during these three years-she let all of it go in that moment.

For a brief second, the air felt heavy and hard to breathe.

A dark look settled over Brayden's face as he stared at her.

"So all of this is because of Mila?" he asked.

Hearing him say Mila's name so gently made something twist inside her, but the anger outweighed everything else.

"Brayden, why don't we just speak plainly?" she said, her voice rising. "Haven't you always wanted to be with Mila? You even went against your grandfather for her, and all this time, you've treated me like I don't exist. Now I'm asking for a divorce, and isn't that exactly what you've wanted?"

After shouting, she kept her eyes locked on him, refusing to back down.

For a moment, Brayden didn't respond. Just as he was about to speak, his phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he turned away without hesitation and picked up the call. "Hey, Mila."

Moving toward the door, Brayden left as his voice gradually faded out of the room.

A bitter smile appeared on Verena's lips as she picked up her phone and dialed Jon Barnes, the Jones family's chief lawyer. "Jon, it's me. I need you to prepare a divorce agreement."

After going over the details with him, she ended the call.

She had expected this step to feel heavy. Instead, a faint sense of ease settled in.

She had planned to talk everything through with Brayden once he returned.

Yet as the minutes passed, he never came back.

It didn't take much for her to figure out why. She slipped on a coat, stepped out of the room, and looked downstairs from the corridor.

Just as she thought, the living room was silent.

He was already gone.

She didn't need to guess where he went.

There was only one place he would go.

Right then, Verena felt like a fool. She had actually believed they could sit down and talk about the divorce calmly. To him, she had never mattered.

Taking a slow breath, Verena tried to steady herself, yet the ache in her chest wouldn't fade.

Even though she was used to being ignored by him, it still hurt.

Since he had made his stance clear, she no longer had any reason to consider him.

Turning back, Verena returned to the room.

Within half an hour, she gathered the few belongings that truly belonged to her.

Not a single piece from the wardrobe went with her. Truthfully, she had never liked those clothes. She had only bought them to suit Brayden's preferences.

Now that the divorce was happening, there was no reason to keep pleasing him or anyone else.

From this moment on, she would stay true to who she really was.

Pausing at the bedroom doorway, she looked over the now-empty space and felt an unexpected sense of relief before turning away.

"Mrs. Hughes, what should I prepare for dinner tonight? And where are you heading?" Jayde asked.

After seeing Brayden rush out earlier, Jayde couldn't help but feel uneasy when Verena also started to leave.

Even though Jayde worked for Brayden, Verena realized the housekeeper had spent more time by her side than Brayden did throughout their marriage.

Because of that, Verena couldn't treat her with cold indifference.

"Jayde, don't cook for me tonight. And from now on, you won't need to prepare anything for me again," Verena said.

She didn't stay any longer after that and simply got into the car before driving off.

As the car sped away, Jayde stood there, a look of realization settling in, mixed with quiet shock and resignation.