The Abandoned Wife's Second Chance (Scarlett and Jasper) novel Chapter 13

Chapter 13

(Jasper’s POV)

I sit in my office, staring at the latest stack of receipts from private investigators. Denver. Portland. Seattle. Phoenix. Every major city west of here, and some small towns too. All dead

ends.

She’s vanished like she never existed.

“You’re doing it again.”

Virginia’s voice cuts through my thoughts. She stands in my doorway holding two cups of coffee, wearing that soft smile she thinks will make me forget what she did.

“Doing what?”

“Staring at those papers like they’ll magically tell you where she is.” She sets a cup on my desk and perches on the edge, too close as always. “Jasper, it’s been four years.”

“I know how long it’s been.”

“Maybe it’s time to accept that she doesn’t want to be found.”

My jaw clenches. We’ve had this conversation before. Every few months, Virginia suggests I stop looking. Every few months, I tell her the same thing.

“She’s carrying my child, Virginia. I have a right to know them.”

“Had,” she corrects quietly. “She was carrying your child four years ago. For all we know, she lost the baby. Or gave it up for adoption. Or-”

“Don’t.” The word comes out sharper than I intended. “Don’t even say it.”

Virginia’s face softens with fake sympathy. The same expression she wore when she told me she’d “helped” by signing those divorce papers. Like destroying my marriage was an act of

kindness.

“I’m just trying to protect you from more heartbreak.”

“The only heartbreak I have is the one you caused.”

Her smile falters. “That’s not fair. I was trying to help you see what everyone else could see- that marriage was making you miserable.”

I stand up so fast my chair hits the wall. “You forged my signature. You ended my marriage

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without my consent. How is that helping?”

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“Because you weren’t happy with Scarlett. I was just helping you do what you were too proud to do yourself!”

The mask slips. For a moment, I see myself the way Virginia described me–a man forced into a marriage against his will, bending to circumstances, yet too proud to admit he used a woman to achieve his success. Spineless enough to blame a woman who loved him for the disgrace he believed his life had become, failing to properly see his heart, blinded by shame and rage, until he lost what he never learned to cherish.

The one pulling the strings behind the scenes for years, creating misunderstandings, timing her panic attacks exactly when Scarlett and I had plans might’ve been Virginia.

But looking closely, I am the one to blame for where our relationship is at the moment.

“I loved her,” I say, smiling bitterly. I loved her, but failed to understand my heart, failed to express my feelings for her, leading to this situation.

“No, you didn’t.” Virginia stands too, coffee forgotten. “You felt guilty about her. Obligated.

But love? Real love? You don’t know what that looks like.”

“And you do?”

“Yes!” Her voice cracks. “I’ve loved you since we were kids, Jasper. Through everything. When your family had nothing, when you were too proud to accept help, when you married another woman because her father offered you money. I’ve loved you through all of it.”

The raw pain in her voice almost makes me feel sorry for her. Almost.

“We’ve been together for four years now,” she continues, stepping closer. “Four years of me taking care of you, supporting you, being here when you needed someone. Doesn’t that mean anything? Can’t you spare even a little bit of your heart for me?”

I look at her–really look at her. The woman I’ve known since childhood. My first friend, my constant companion through school, the person who held me when my father died. There’s history between us, shared memories, comfort.

But there’s no fire. No desperate need to see her smile or hear her laugh. No ache in my chest

when she’s not around.

Not like with Scarlett.

“Virginia.” I reach for her hands, hating the hope that flickers in her eyes. “You know my feelings for you aren’t the same. We grew up together, we’ve shared experiences, but you’re

not the one I love.”

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Her face crumples. “Why? What does she have that I don’t?”

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How do I explain it? How do I tell her that Scarlett’s laugh used to light up rooms, that the dishes she cooked made me feel more at home than any five–star meal? How do I describe the way she’d curl up next to me while reading, completely absorbed in her book but still reaching for my hand without looking up?

How do I explain that I threw all of that away because my pride mattered more than her

heart?

“It’s not about what she has. It’s about what I feel when I’m with her. What I felt.” I correct

myself. “She made me feel the warmth of having a home.”

“I can make you feel that way too. If you’d just give me a chance-”

“I can’t. I’m sorry, Virginia, but I can’t. You know my feelings for you aren’t the same. We grew up together, shared experiences, but that’s about it. I don’t feel for you the way I feel for Scarlett. It’s just not the same.”

The words hang between us like a death sentence. Virginia’s hands slip from mine, and she

takes a step back.

“Then you’re going to spend your whole life chasing a ghost.”

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