I decided to go to the office. Aside from being Ysmael’s wife, I am also an architect. I told myself it was to drop off the revised schematics for the seaside project, but deep down, a darker instinct was driving me. I needed to see him in his element. I needed to see if the rot I had discovered in my home had spread to the business I helped build.

I walked through the glass revolving doors, clutching the roll of blueprints like a shield.

Usually, my arrival was met with warm smiles and respectful nods. Today, the atmosphere shifted the moment my heels clicked against the marble floor.

The receptionist, a young girl named Sarah who usually gushed over my outfits, froze mid-typing. Her eyes widened, darting from me to the elevator bank and back.

“Mrs. Miller,” she stammered, half-rising from her chair. “We… we weren’t expecting you today.”

“I’m here to see Ysmael,” I said, forcing a pleasant smile that felt like it might crack my face. “Is he in?”

“He’s… he’s in a meeting,” she lied. I could tell. She was terrible at it. Her gaze kept flickering to the phone, as if she wanted to warn him.

“That’s fine,” I said, breezing past her before she could stop me. “I have a key. I’ll wait.”

I walked toward the executive elevators. I reached the top floor. The executive suite was quiet, the plush carpet swallowing the sound of my footsteps. I approached Ysmael’s office, the heavy mahogany double doors looming at the end of the hall.

I was about to knock when I heard it.

It was faint at first, muffled by the wood, but unmistakable. A low, guttural groan. Then, a giggle.

My hand hovered inches from the wood.

“Sssh, quiet down,” Ysmael’s voice came through, strained and breathless. “Someone might hear us.”

“Let them hear,” Kate’s voice purred, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the desk. “I’m tired of being quiet, Ysmael. You’re the boss. You can do what you want.”

“Not yet, baby. Not yet. Just… turn around.”

The sounds that followed—the wet, rhythmic friction of skin on skin, the stifled moans—tore through me sharper than any scalpel.

I couldn’t breathe. The hallway seemed to spin. I wanted to kick the door down. I wanted to scream until my throat bled. But the humiliation was a heavy, suffocating blanket. If I went in there now, I wouldn’t just be the betrayed wife; I would be the hysterical, crazy woman.

I backed away. My legs felt like jelly, but I forced them to move. I retreated, not to the elevator, but to the ladies' room down the hall.

I pushed into the handicap stall and locked the door, leaning my forehead against the cool metal partition. I gasped for air, trying to steady the violent shaking of my hands.

A moment later, the bathroom door opened. The click-clack of heels echoed on the tiles.

“Did you see her?” a voice whispered.

“I know,” another voice replied. “Mrs. Miller. She walked right past my desk. She looked… oblivious.”

“It’s so embarrassing,” Jessica said. I heard the sound of water running, the pump of soap. “Do you think she knows? About Kate?”

“How could she not? Kate is practically sitting in his lap during meetings. She walks around here like she owns the place. Wearing those tight skirts, giggling at everything he says.”

“God, poor wife,” Jessica sighed. The pity in her voice was worse than the malice. “She just lost a baby, right? And now her husband is banging the secretary in the middle of the workday.”

“Men are trash,” the second woman said. “But honestly? Alice is kind of… weak, isn’t she? I mean, everyone in the office knows. The interns know. The security guards know. If I were her, I would have burned this place down by now. But she just smiles and brings him lunch.”

“She’s probably in denial. Or maybe she just wants to keep the money.”

“Should we tell him?” Jessica asked. “That she’s here? She might walk in on them.”

“No way!” the other girl hissed. “Are you crazy? We’d surely be fired. Ysmael would blame us for letting her up. Let’s just wait. After all, Ma’am Alice seems weak. She didn’t even confront them when she walked past the office earlier. She probably heard them and ran away.”

They laughed. A cruel, sharp sound that echoed off the tiled walls.

The door swung shut. Silence returned.

I sat there, staring at the floor.

Weak.

Oblivious.

Everyone knows.

The shame burned through my veins, hotter than the grief. I wasn’t just a victim; I was a spectacle. My entire life, my tragedy, was water-cooler gossip for the people I employed. They were laughing at me. They were betting on how long it would take for me to break.

I stood up. I wiped the tears from my cheeks with a rough paper towel. I looked at myself in the mirror.

My eyes were red, but they were dry. The woman staring back at me didn’t look weak anymore. She looked dangerous.

I didn’t go back to Ysmael’s office. I didn’t throw a tantrum. I walked out of the bathroom, my spine steel-straight. I walked past the reception desk, ignoring Sarah’s panicked look.

“Tell Ysmael I stopped by,” I said, my voice calm, devoid of emotion. “Tell him I left the blueprints. And tell him to enjoy his… meeting.”

I walked out of the building, into the blinding afternoon sun. I hailed a taxi, giving the driver an address I had looked up weeks ago, back when I thought I was just being paranoid.

The law firm was in a glass tower on the other side of the city. I was ushered into the office of Mr. Sterling, a divorce attorney known for tearing prenuptial agreements to shreds.

He looked up from his desk, surprised to see me without an appointment.

“Mrs. Miller,” he said, standing up. “This is unexpected. Is everything alright?”

I sat down in the leather chair opposite him. I placed my hands on his desk. They weren't shaking anymore.

“I want to divorce my husband,” I said, the words tasting like freedom. “I don’t care about his assets or anything. File the divorce paper now. I just want it done in three days.”

The taxi ride home was a blur of city lights and vibrating anxiety. My phone, resting on the seat beside me, had been buzzing incessantly for the last twenty minutes.

Ysmael: Where are you?

Ysmael: Sarah said you came by. Why didn’t you come in?

Ysmael: Alice, answer me. I’m worried.

Ysmael: Are you okay? Call me.

I watched the notifications stack up on the lock screen, each one a testament to his guilt. He wasn’t worried about my safety; he was worried about his exposure. He was terrified that I had stood outside that door and heard the sounds of his betrayal. He was calculating the damage, wondering if his carefully constructed house of cards was about to collapse.

I didn’t reply. I simply reached over, held the power button, and watched the screen go black.

I leaned my head back against the seat, closing my eyes. I needed to think. I needed to calibrate my performance. I had set the wheels in motion with the lawyer, but I still had to play the part of the oblivious, doting wife for just a little longer. I needed to lull him into a false sense of security before I pulled the rug out from under him.

When the taxi pulled up to the driveway, I saw Ysmael’s car parked haphazardly near the entrance, as if he had arrived in a rush. Kate’s car was there too, tucked discreetly to the side.

Of course she was here. She was like a parasite I couldn’t shake.

I paid the driver and walked up the steps. The front door was unlocked. As I stepped into the foyer, voices drifted from the living room. They were arguing, their tones hushed but frantic.

“So what?” Kate’s voice was sharp, dismissive. “If she heard us, she would have stormed in! She would have screamed! You know her, Ysmael. She’s emotional. She wouldn’t just walk away.”

“You don’t know that,” Ysmael hissed back. “She’s been acting strange since the miscarriage. Quiet. Detached. What if she’s planning something?”

“You’re being paranoid,” Kate scoffed. “Maybe she just dropped off the papers and left. Maybe she didn’t hear anything. So maybe not? Why are you freaking out?”

“And what if she did?” Ysmael’s voice rose, cracking with stress. “What if she divorces me? Huh? Do you know what happens then? The merger with the European partners—it’s contingent on family stability. My grandfather will disown me if I cause a scandal now. I lose everything, Kate. Everything!”

“So you care more about the money than us?”

“I care about our future! Which requires money!”

I took a deep breath, plastered a confused smile on my face, and walked into the room.

“What is all the commotion?” I asked, my voice light and airy.

Both of them jumped. Ysmael spun around, his face pale, sweat beading on his forehead. Kate looked like she had swallowed a lemon, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

“Alice!” Ysmael breathed out, rushing toward me. He looked like he wanted to grab me, shake me, and hug me all at once. “Oh god, Alice. I thought something happened to you.”

He reached for my hands, his grip clammy. “I’ve been calling and texting you for an hour! Why is your phone off? Where have you been?”

I looked at him, widening my eyes in innocent surprise. “My phone? Oh, it must have died. I forgot to charge it last night. I’m sorry, did I worry you?”

“Worry me? I was out of my mind!” He searched my face, looking for any sign of anger, any hint that I knew. “Sarah told me you came to the office. Why didn’t you come inside? I was… I was in a meeting, but I would have stopped it for you.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” I said, shrugging. “Sarah looked so stressed, and I heard you were busy. I just wanted to drop off the blueprints.”

“But where did you go after?” he pressed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

I paused. I let the silence stretch for just a second too long, watching his pulse jump in his neck.

“Oh, something came up,” I said casually. “I needed to go to the lawyer for the divorce papers,” I said simply.

The room went deathly silent. You could hear a pin drop. Ysmael looked like he had been punched in the gut.

“What… what do you mean divorce?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Alice? What? Are you… are you divorcing me?”

I watched him squirm. I watched the terror in his eyes—not of losing me, but of losing his inheritance. It was pathetic.

Then, I threw my head back and laughed.

“Oh my god, look at your face!” I giggled, slapping his arm playfully. “Do you want a divorce, Ysmael? Is that it?”

He blinked, confused, his brain struggling to catch up. “What? No! No, of course not! Baby, you’re… you’re kidding?”

“Of course I am!” I said, stepping into his space and wrapping my arms around his neck. I felt his body sag with relief. “Why on earth would I divorce my loving husband? You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

I kissed him. It was a performance worthy of an Oscar. I pressed my lips to his, humming contentedly, while staring directly at Kate over his shoulder.

Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, her knuckles white.

I pulled back, smiling up at Ysmael. “I went to the lawyer to update my will, silly. After the accident… it just made me think about things. About protecting us.”

“Oh,” Ysmael exhaled, a nervous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “Right. A will. That makes sense. God, Alice, don’t joke like that. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I would only divorce you if you cheat,” I said, my voice turning serious for a split second. “Just like Candice’s husband. Did you hear? He was sleeping with his assistant. Can you imagine? Throwing away a marriage for a cheap fling? It’s disgusting.”

Ysmael stiffened against me. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Disgusting. I would never do that to you, Alice. I promise.”

“I know,” I cooed. “You’re a good man.”

I turned my head slightly, locking eyes with Kate again.

“Well,” I said, running a hand down Ysmael’s chest. “If you love me so much, how about you show me? Kiss me again.”

“Alice, we have company,” Ysmael murmured, though he didn’t pull away. He was too relieved, too desperate to keep up the charade.

“Kate doesn’t mind,” I said, my voice dripping with sweetness. “She’s practically family. Right, Kate?”

Kate didn’t answer. She looked like she was about to explode.

I pulled Ysmael down and kissed him again, harder this time, making a show of it. I let my hands wander, staking my claim on the property she thought she had stolen.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I whispered loudly enough for her to hear. “Let’s make love. I want to feel you.”

Ysmael hesitated, glancing at Kate, but he was trapped. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, baby.”

I pulled away, patting his cheek. “I’ll just go take a shower first. I feel gross from the city. You stay here. Go finish whatever business you have with her.”

I gestured vaguely at Kate.

“And Kate,” I added, flashing her a bright, venomous smile. “Thanks for keeping him company while I was gone. You can see yourself out, right?”

I didn’t wait for an answer. I turned and walked toward the stairs, swaying my hips.

As I climbed, I glanced back once. Kate was staring at Ysmael, her eyes burning with betrayal and humiliation. Ysmael was rubbing his temples, looking like a man who was drowning.

I made it to the bedroom and closed the door. The smile vanished instantly. I rushed to the bathroom and scrubbed my lips with the back of my hand until they burned.

I turned on the shower to drown out any noise. I sat on the edge of the tub, my heart pounding.

My phone, which I had turned back on, buzzed on the counter.

I picked it up. A message from Uncle Marcus.

Uncle Marcus: Everything is ready now. The jet is fueled. The transfer is approved. You can leave whenever you want.

I stared at the screen.

“Soon,” I whispered to the empty room. “Just one more act.”

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the silk of my emerald green gown. It was backless, elegant, and expensive—armor for the battlefield. Ysmael had booked a private dinner cruise on the harbor.

It was his way of cementing the lie, of proving to himself and to me that we were the perfect, happy couple he needed for his grandfather’s approval.

I walked downstairs. Ysmael was waiting in the foyer, checking his watch. He looked dashing in his tuxedo, the very picture of a devoted husband.

“You look breathtaking,” he said, looking up. The admiration in his eyes was real, which only made it more pathetic. He loved the trophy, not the woman.

“Thank you,” I said, descending the last few steps. “Are we ready to go?”

“The car is waiting.”

He offered me his arm. Just as we were about to step out the door, the click of heels echoed from the hallway.

We both turned.

Kate was standing there. She was wearing a dress that was less of a garment and more of a suggestion. It was a shimmering, silver slip that barely covered her thighs, with a neckline that plunged dangerously low. Her makeup was heavy, smoky and seductive, and her lips were painted a dark, bruised crimson.

Ysmael stiffened beside me. His grip on my arm tightened.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice sharp.

Kate smirked, adjusting the strap of her purse. “Out. It’s Friday night, Ysmael. I’m going to a club.”

“Like that?” Ysmael snapped, stepping away from me. “You’re practically naked, Kate. Go upstairs and change.”

Kate rolled her eyes, a petulant gesture that grated on my nerves. “Why should I? You’re not my boyfriend.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with double meaning.

“I am your boss,” Ysmael countered, his voice rising. “And I am your brother’s best friend. He told me to watch over you while you’re staying here. What if something happens to you dressed like that? What kind of message are you sending?”

“I can take care of myself,” Kate shot back. “Nothing will happen. I’m just going to a party. Maybe find a boyfriend. Someone who actually has time for me.”

She shot a pointed, venomous look at Ysmael.

I watched them, a silent observer to their twisted dynamic. This wasn't a protective brotherly concern. This was jealousy. Pure, green-eyed jealousy. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching what he considered his property.

“You are not going out like that,” Ysmael growled.

“Watch me.” Kate turned toward the door.

“Stop!” Ysmael lunged forward, grabbing her arm. He looked frantic. He looked at me, then back at her, his mind racing to find a solution that kept her close and me oblivious.

“Just come with us,” he blurted out.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

Ysmael turned to me, his smile strained. “Let’s just bring her along, Alice. To the cruise.”

“No,” I said, my voice cold. “Why would she come? It’s our date, Ysmael. A romantic dinner.”

“Come on, honey,” Ysmael pleaded, sweating slightly. “You know how she is. She’s just a kid. If she goes out to a club alone, she’ll get into trouble. Her brother would kill me if anything happened to her. It’s safer if she’s with us.”

“She is a grown woman,” I said, crossing my arms. “She can make her own decisions. I don’t want a third wheel on our date.”

“It’s okay,” Kate said, pulling her arm from his grip. Her voice was thick with mock hurt. “She doesn’t want me there. I get it. I’ll just go find some fun elsewhere.”

She turned to leave again.

“Dammit, Alice!” Ysmael snapped at me. The mask slipped completely. His eyes were blazing with irrational anger. “Why are you being so difficult? It’s just dinner! Why can’t you be more understanding?”

I stared at him. The audacity was breathtaking.

“Why are you getting mad?” I asked calmly. “You’re shouting at your wife because she wants to have dinner alone with you? Is that unreasonable?”

I stepped closer to him.

“Choose, Ysmael,” I said softly. “Between me and her. Do you want a date with your wife, or do you want to babysit your secretary?”

Ysmael looked between us. He looked at Kate, who was waiting with a smug challenge in her eyes. He looked at me, standing firm. He knew he couldn’t choose her without blowing his cover.

He clenched his jaw. “Fine. It’s you. It’s always you, Alice.”

He turned to Kate. “Stay home. Please.”

“Whatever,” Kate scoffed. She turned on her heel and stormed back upstairs.

The cruise should have been romantic. The city skyline glittered against the dark water, the food was exquisite, and a violinist played softly in the corner.

But Ysmael wasn’t there.

Physically, he sat across from me. Mentally, he was miles away. He barely touched his wine. His leg bounced nervously under the table. Every two minutes, he checked his phone, hiding the screen under the table cloth.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, cutting into my steak.

“What? Yes. Yes, fine. Just… work emails,” he muttered, not looking up.

I knew who he was texting. I knew he was tracking her, pleading with her, probably promising her the moon to keep her from going out.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed loudly on the table. He snatched it up. His face went white.

He stood up so abruptly his chair screeched against the deck.

“I have to go,” he said.

“What?” I put down my fork. “Ysmael, we haven’t even had dessert. What is it?”

“It’s Kate,” he said, panic making his voice shrill. “She went out. She’s at a bar downtown. She… she says some guys are harassing her. She’s scared.”

“Call the police then,” I said, taking a sip of my wine.

“No! I have to go get her. She’s hysterical.” He was already moving, buttoning his jacket with trembling hands. “I’m sorry, Alice. I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Just… finish dinner. The driver will take you home.”

He didn’t wait for my answer. He didn’t kiss me goodbye. He turned and ran toward the exit, desperate to save his mistress, leaving his wife alone in the middle of the ocean.

I watched him go.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t feel a thing.

I finished my wine slowly, savoring the rich, oaky flavor. I signaled the waiter.

“Check, please,” I said. “And pack the dessert to go.”

When I got home, the house was empty. They were probably together now, him comforting her, her gloating that she had won.

But it was okay because in two days I’d be gone, and he’d receive the best anniversary gift ever.