The morning light poured through the oversized windows of the penthouse, illuminating the sleek marble countertops.

After my narrow escape from Marcus’s office, I hadn’t been myself, especially after what I witnessed. The world around me seemed to fade, my mind racing even as my eyes remained fixed on the coffee before me.

“What should I do? Even if I report this to Dad, he’s not going to believe me,” I muttered under my breath.

My hands trailed over the coffee mug as I let out a deep sigh. After our marriage, Marcus had managed to win over my father with his so-called charming personality. It was a good thing back then, but now…

I grabbed the mug, chugging the coffee down in one go. The bitter taste blasted against my tongue, overpowering the sugar and milk I had added.

The sound of footsteps made my ears perk up, and I tilted my head slightly, glancing over my shoulder.

Marcus and Layla strolled in together, his hand resting on her shoulder as they laughed softly. The moment Marcus’s eyes landed on me, he created some distance between them.

I scoffed, pretending not to notice their intimate position, and turned my attention back to my mug on the counter.

Marcus walked up to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. My body stiffened under his touch.

“Hey, babe. Why are you home so soon? I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” he asked with a smile.

A smile that once had the ability to send butterflies fluttering in my belly now made my skin crawl with disgust. My hand instinctively moved to push his away, and I did so slowly.

“What?” I muttered under my breath. “Can’t I stay in my own house?”

Marcus’s brows knitted together as he watched me carefully. His gaze darted to Layla before returning to me. “Or is there a reason you don’t want me here?”

His laughter cut through the air, light but tense. Layla crossed her arms over her chest, stepping closer.

“Sasha, stop being so sensitive,” Layla said, her tone clipped but laced with mock concern. “Marcus and I just came back because he needed a break from work. As his secretary, his health is my top priority.”

Her rose-scented perfume hit my nostrils as she moved closer. My face hardened.

Layla’s eyes glimmered with something unspoken, and for the first time, I noticed the underlying disgust and anger buried in them.

Marcus cleared his throat, his phone buzzing in his pocket. “I’ll be back. I need to take this call,” he said, already walking away.

I hummed nonchalantly, not lifting my gaze from my mug.

Layla leaned in slightly, studying my features. Her round eyes hovered over me, but I didn’t flinch.

“Sasha, you look really pale. Are you okay?”

I turned to her, smirking. “I didn’t expect my husband’s secretary to care so much about me. I thought he was your top priority.”

Layla’s composure faltered for a split second, but she quickly masked it with a forced smile.

“You should take better care of yourself, Sasha,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension.

“Stress isn’t good for…” Her eyes flicked to my abdomen briefly before returning to my face. “…your health.”

My stomach twisted. Did she know? Was she aware that I was carrying Marcus’s child? I forced myself to stay calm.

“Thanks for the advice, but I don’t need your lectures about my health,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.

“Do you think he’ll stay once he knows the truth?” she asked, her voice low and venomous. “Marcus isn’t exactly the type to settle down. You know that, don’t you?”

I stared at her, willing myself not to react. My fingers tightened around the mug again, but I didn’t flinch.

“I’m his wife. What exactly are you trying to say?”

Layla smirked, taking my words as an invitation to continue.

“You’re smart, Sasha. Surely you’ve noticed. Marcus doesn’t like complications. And, well…” She gestured vaguely toward me. “You’re looking more complicated every day.”

I swallowed hard, saying nothing.

When I didn’t respond, Layla leaned back, her smile widening. “You think loyalty will save you, don’t you? That if you just love him enough, he’ll choose you.” She laughed softly, the sound cutting through the air like a blade. “It’s pathetic, really.”

“You’re just a secretary,” I scoffed, my voice sharp. “What right do you have to lecture me about my relationship? Stick to your paperwork.”

That was enough. I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as I rose.

“You wouldn’t understand loyalty,” I said sharply, turning to leave.

“Loyalty?” Layla repeated, laughing again. “Oh, Sasha. You’re living in a fantasy. You think he’s loyal to you?”

I ignored her, walking away before she could see the cracks in my composure.

Her laughter followed me out of the kitchen and I headed straight to my room.

I had to think of something really fast. But the question was 'what could I do?'

I stopped at the hallway gazing at marcus in his study pacing about. His face was tight with confusion. His hands were on his hips.

"Was something going on?" I mumbled to myself.

Later that afternoon, I found myself in Marcus’s office. After seeing how agitated he had been lately, I knew something was up.

I had to find out if my dad would be affected by whatever Marcus was planning.

My heart pounded loudly in my chest as I stared at his desk, the perfectly aligned papers, and the expensive pens. He never let me in here unless he was home. But I couldn’t wait anymore. I needed answers.

I needed to know what he was planning. My life already felt like it was in danger; I could feel it in my bones. Once the business with my dad was finalized, Marcus might not keep me alive.

My hands trembled as I flipped through his planner, scanning each neatly written entry: business trips, meetings, dinners. But there was nothing useful. All I saw was more evidence of his betrayal—

The numerous dates he had lined up with Layla and a hotel key card.

“That bastard,” I muttered through gritted teeth, my hand clenching one of the papers so tightly it crumpled.

I moved to the drawer on the left, tugging it open. Inside, I found folders stacked neatly. My fingers hovered over them, but one stood out—a slim black folder with Layla’s name scrawled across the tab. My chest tightened as I opened it.

There it was: a deed to an apartment. Her name was on it, bold and undeniable. I flipped through the pages, and my stomach dropped when I saw the payment history—taken from our joint account.

Tears stung my eyes, but the final blow came when a small note slipped out from between the pages. I picked it up with shaking hands.

“Our future is just beginning. Forget Sasha. It’s us against the world.”

The bile rose in my throat as I dropped the papers on the desk. I staggered back, gripping the edge of a chair for support. How had I been so blind? How long had this been going on?

My breathing grew ragged as the walls of the office seemed to close in around me. I fumbled for my phone, dialing Claire’s number with trembling fingers.

“Hello?” Claire’s familiar voice answered.

“It’s me,” I croaked, my voice breaking.

“Sasha? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t stay here, Claire. I… I need to leave,” I stuttered, my words barely making sense.

Her voice immediately filled with concern. “My God, Sasha, what’s going on? You sound tense. Did something happen?”

My hands trembled, and my lips quivered as I tried to hold back a sob.

“It’s Ma... Marcus,” I whispered shakily, my throat tightening.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, but the words evaporated before I could say them.

“It’s alright. Just pack your bags and come over to my place. We can figure things out together, okay?” Claire said softly.

Tears streamed down my face as I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me.

“Thank you. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re doing the right thing,” Claire said gently. “You deserve better than this. Just get out of there. Don’t wait.”

I hung up, feeling a small flicker of hope building in my heart. I had to escape this nightmare. First, I needed to leave. Then, I’d figure out what to do next.

I began gathering the papers on Marcus’s desk, determined to leave no trace of my search. I slid the drawer shut, keeping everything in place.

“What are you doing in here, Sasha?” Marcus’s voice boomed suddenly.

I froze, my heart stopping at the sound of his voice. Slowly, I turned to face him. He stood in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable.

“I… I was just—”

His eyes scanned my face and appearance, narrowing as they locked onto mine. A cold dread settled in my chest.

“Have you been going through my things?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

My pulse quickened as I took a step back. “Marcus, I can explain—”

“No,” he interrupted sharply. “You don’t get to explain. Don’t you trust me?”

Of course, I didn’t trust him, but saying that aloud wasn’t wise, especially with the way his eyes darkened with an anger I’d never seen before.

Marcus stepped closer, and I instinctively backed into the desk, trapped. The air felt suffocating.

“So, tell me, Sasha. What exactly were you looking for?”

I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the desk as I forced myself to meet his gaze.

“I only came to see if you were hungry. I made your favorite sandwich,” I said, my voice as steady as I could make it. Now, more than ever, I knew Marcus was a dangerous man.

If he knew I was aware of his plans, I couldn’t predict what he might do.

“Are you sure?”

“Is there another reason why I would come here?” I leaned in closer, trying to sound casual. “Are you hiding something from me?”

Marcus’s smile was slow and calculated as he moved away from me.

“Of course not, babe.”

As night fell, I knew I had to act. This was my golden chance. Marcus had left the house, claiming he had some sort of impromptu business meeting, but I knew better.

A scoff escaped my lips. “An impromptu meeting at 10 p.m.? What a joke.”

To think I had fallen for his numerous lies in the past made a sharp pain grip my chest, and I shuddered.

How could I have been so stupid not to see the signs? Signs that he was cheating and that he had only married me for wealth and power.

Tears began to prickle at the corners of my eyes, but I tightened my grip on my luggage, seeking support from the nightmare reality that had become my life.

“No use crying over spilled milk,” I muttered, heaving a deep sigh that did little to ease the tension in my chest.

With a determined look, I wheeled my suitcase out of the penthouse and into the night.

---

When I reached Claire’s house, I scrambled out of the car. I rushed to the door, barely registering the buzz of the intercom.

“Claire, open up!” I half-yelled.

The door opened, revealing Claire. Her eyes dropped as she took in my expression. She stood frozen for a moment before moving to hug me.

“My God, Sasha,” she whispered, her warm hands circling around my back. “What happened to you?”

I whimpered against her neck, holding her close for warmth, because my blood had run cold ever since I found out about Marcus.

“I’m done, Claire,” I sniffed, dragging the snort back inside. “I’m done with him. I just can’t keep living like this.” My voice broke, and I felt Claire’s shoulders slump as she held me tighter.

When my sobs finally quieted, she pulled back slightly, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

“Okay,” she said, her voice calm and soothing. “You’re safe here. You don’t have to explain it all right now. Just breathe. We’ll figure it out.”

I nodded, but even as I did, I knew the truth of my situation wasn’t so simple.

The days that followed were a blur. I stayed at Claire’s, trying to get my bearings, but unease gnawed at me.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something—something big—was about to come crashing down.

Then came the day of my routine check-up.

I had barely made it to the clinic, because with each passing day, my strength felt drained with fear of what marcus might do next realizing that I disappeared.

I wasn’t even thinking about the baby, not really. I was just trying to survive, to figure out what came next.

I sat in the sterile white room, the smell of antiseptic making me feel even more dizzy.

When the doctor finally walked in, he had that calm demeanor—the one doctors always have when they don’t want to alarm you but know they have to. He smiled at me briefly before sitting down, his gaze focused on the papers in front of him.

“Sasha, the blood test results came back,” he said, his voice even. “There’s something unusual in the genetic markers.”

I froze, my heart stopping for a moment as my throat went dry. “What do you mean?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

The doctor hesitated, glancing at the chart again before meeting my gaze. “It seems your child’s genetic markers suggest a paternal match that isn’t Marcus.”

“What?” My eyes bulged as I gripped the hem of my shirt tightly.

The world tilted beneath me. My stomach churned, and the walls seemed to close in around me. “What do you mean?” I repeated, my voice now shaky.

“I mean,” the doctor continued carefully, “it’s possible that someone else is the father.”

My breath caught in my throat, my vision blurring as my world unraveled in front of me.

“No... that’s not possible,” I whispered, my heart racing. I looked down at my hands, as if trying to grasp something solid in this new, terrifying reality.