Monique POV

The car sped down the road, and I sat in the passenger seat, my body feeling both heavy and uneasy. My fever hadn’t fully subsided, and each turn of the road seemed to make my head spin. All I wanted was to go home and rest, but Mark… he wouldn’t have it. He hadn’t even been the one to take me to the hospital; he’d just shown up, looking more irritated than concerned.

When he did finally arrive in my hospital room, I thought maybe he’d come to check on me, maybe to apologize or comfort me, but all he’d said was, “Get up. We have to go. My family is waiting for us.”

Reluctantly, I’d followed him, not wanting to start another fight. The car’s steady hum did nothing to ease my discomfort. I shifted in my seat, trying to shake the chills creeping over me, but it was useless. Just as I closed my eyes, hoping for a bit of peace, his phone chimed loudly. He glanced at it, and without a word, abruptly pulled over to the side of the road.

I looked over at him, a little startled. “Mark, what’s wrong?”

He turned to me with a blank expression before motioning toward my door. “Get out of the car.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“I need to head somewhere now, Monique,” he replied flatly. “You’ll go to my parents’ house on your own and have dinner with them.”

I stared at him, feeling my chest tighten. “You want me to go there alone… in my condition?”

He rolled his eyes. “What condition? Come on, I’m sure it’s not serious.”

“Really?” I could barely keep the tremor out of my voice. How could he be so indifferent?

“Yeah,” he said, unbothered. “I need to go with Quiana for her monthly checkup. You know how she gets.”

The mention of Quiana sent a familiar pang through me. I wasn’t even surprised at this point, just… defeated. “So it’s Quiana. Again.”

“Look,” he snapped, clearly irritated, “stop looking at me like that and just get out. I don’t want to keep Quiana waiting.”

“Mark, I’m not feeling well,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt. “I agreed to go for this dinner with you even though I’m sick, and you said you’d take me home afterward. But here you are, ready to leave me on the side of the road because of Quiana?”

He huffed, “Yes, because she needs me. I can’t let her go to her appointment alone. She’ll get anxious. You know what happened to her after the accident…”

“It’s been twelve months, Mark. She’s not facing any more issues; she just wants you there because she can. It’s like she’s the one married to you, and I’m just… an inconvenience.”

“Say whatever you want, Monique. I don’t care,” he shot back, already starting the car again. “Just get out. And when you see my parents, make up a decent excuse as to why I couldn’t make it.”

Without another word, I opened the car door, feeling a hollow emptiness spread through me. He didn’t even wait until I was out safely; the moment I stepped onto the curb, he sped off, tires screeching as if he had somewhere far more important to be. The tail lights of his car faded into the distance, leaving me standing alone in the cold, my legs feeling weaker by the second.

The chill bit into me, and I hugged myself, shivering as a sharp wind picked up. My fever only made the cold feel more brutal, and I could barely keep my balance. I looked up and down the street, hoping for some way to escape the biting air. Finally, a taxi’s headlights appeared down the road, and I waved frantically, relief flooding over me when it stopped.

Once inside, I slumped into the seat, shivering uncontrollably. The driver glanced back, concern etched into his face. “Ma’am, are you all right?”

I forced a weak smile, nodding. “I’ll… I’ll be okay.”

He nodded, flicking the heater on, and I felt a faint warmth spread through the air. But even as the heater kicked in, the coldness from Mark’s abandonment seemed to settle deeper in my bones, chilling me far more than any winter night could.

The Smith family manor loomed in front of me, a testament to their wealth and prominence in New York City. With its towering facade and classic architecture, it was clear that the Smiths were no ordinary family. Mark was no less impressive, running the family business as a billionaire. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and walked up to the grand entrance.

I knocked, and within moments, the door swung open to reveal a woman with striking, colored eyes. Mark's mother, Nora, blinked at me, her gaze shooting up in surprise. “Monique, you…” she trailed off.

I forced a small smile. "Hello, Mrs.Nora."

I stepped inside but stumbled, dizzy from the fever that hadn’t let up. Nora caught me, her eyes wide with concern. "Goodness, are you okay?"

I straightened up, nodding weakly. She glanced past me, her eyes narrowing. “Where’s Mark? Didn’t he come with you?”

“He’s… not coming,” I replied quietly, trying to avoid her probing gaze.

Nora’s face softened, and she seemed to size me up. “You look sick, dear.”

“Yes, I am. I’ve got a fever, but your son insisted I come over.” My voice was a whisper as I fought back the resentment I felt.

She dismissed my words lightly, her tone warm and understanding. “I’m sure he just didn’t want to face his grandfather’s temper alone. But let’s not mention anything to him about this, okay?”

I nodded, managing a small smile as she patted my shoulder and led me to the dining room.

As we entered, I greeted Mark’s father and grandfather, both of whom sat at the head of the table, radiating authority. I took a seat, feeling their eyes on me.

Nora quickly spoke up, her voice bright. “Doesn’t Monique look lovely? I have to say, Mark takes such good care of her.”

But her husband frowned, his gaze lingering on me. “She doesn’t look well to me.”

Grandfather’s voice, though softer, had the same concerned weight. “Are you all right, Monique?”

I glanced at Nora, who silently pleaded with her eyes. “I’m fine, really,” I lied. “Just a slight headache.”

Grandfather’s brow furrowed. “If that’s the case, where is your husband? Mark should be here looking after you, like a responsible husband would.”

“Father-in-law, he…” Nora started, but one stern look from him silenced her.

I looked down, feeling the weight of his disapproval. There was no way I could tell them the truth. If he knew why Mark wasn’t here, he’d be even angrier, and the consequences for Mark would be harsh. Grandfather was a man of strict principles; family responsibility was sacred to him.

“Talk to me, Monique,” he pressed, his tone soft yet firm.

I took a breath and lied, “He had a meeting with an international client who’s leaving the country tonight. Mark was hesitant to let me come alone, but I insisted.”

“What a thoughtful wife you are, my dear,” Nora cooed dramatically, chuckling to ease the tension. I forced a weak smile, hoping my story would pass.

Grandfather looked at me intently, seeming to assess the truth in my words before he finally nodded.

Relief washed over me, though guilt tugged at my chest. I had lied to protect Mark, despite everything he’d done. He’d left me this morning when I was barely able to stand, sick and exhausted. Still, I couldn’t let him face his family’s wrath.

Dinner passed in a blur. I barely tasted the food, my mind consumed with thoughts of Mark and Quiana, the woman who seemed to haunt our marriage. In recent months, she had spiraled back into our lives, claiming a part of Mark that once belonged to me. He felt indebted to her, thinking she’d saved him from the fire—a fire I knew I’d been the one to save him from. But Quiana bore the scars, and she allowed him to believe her version. The lie had changed everything.

Finally, dinner ended, and Mark’s father arranged for one of their drivers to take me home. As I stepped through the front door of our house, a quiet hope blossomed within me. I wanted to see Mark, maybe hear him apologize or at least ask about my fever. But the house was empty.

Determined, I went to the kitchen, hoping to make him dinner. He must not have eaten, I told myself. Hours passed, and by the time the clock struck eleven, I was in the living room, anxiously watching the minutes tick by. Where was he?

I picked up my phone and dialed him again. This was the umpteenth time, and worry gnawed at me as the call finally connected. A breath of relief escaped me.

“Mark, what’s going on? Where are you?”

But the voice on the other end wasn’t his. “Hello, Monique, it’s me.”

My stomach dropped as I recognized Quiana’s voice, sickly sweet and confident.

“Quiana?” I forced myself to sound calm. “Where’s Mark?”

“Oh, he’s with me,” she replied, a smug edge to her tone. “He’ll be staying the night here, at my place, because I asked him to.”

“What?”

“Yes,” she said coolly. “So, enjoy the night.” And with that, she hung up, leaving me stunned, clutching the phone as if it might shatter in my hands.

My heart ached, the weight of betrayal sinking deeper with each passing second. Mark had chosen her over me, again. Three years ago, he had picked me, and now, I was slipping further into the shadows of our marriage.

I tried to push Quiana’s words out of my mind, convincing myself she had lied. But as the night stretched on and morning finally broke, Mark still hadn’t shown up. Exhaustion had finally overtaken me on the living room couch, the ache in my body a dull, constant reminder that I’d waited up for him. I’d imagined him coming home, gently lifting me up, and carrying me to our bedroom like the loving husband he once was. But he never came.

Around 6 a.m., I was jolted awake by the rumble of his car engine outside. I forced myself to sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as he walked through the door, his suit jacket slung over his arm, his expression hard as he spotted me.

"Don’t tell me you slept on the couch," he said, disapprovingly. "That’s not proper."

I pushed myself to my feet, steadying myself before I looked at him. “Where were you, Mark?”

He sighed, uninterested. “I slept outside.”

“Where?”

“Do you need to know?” He shook his head dismissively and started walking toward the stairs, his back turned to me.

But I wasn’t going to let him brush me off this time. “You spent the night with Quiana at her house. Why?” My voice was unsteady, but I forced the words out, determined to get answers. He paused, turning to face me, his expression colder than I’d ever seen it.

“I did. She was alone, and it looked like it would rain heavily last night. She didn’t want to sleep by herself. The lightning frightens her.”

“That’s it?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You spent the night there because of some thunder? Mark, she’s your…she’s not your responsibility.”

“Are we really doing this?” His eyes narrowed, his tone mocking. “Monique, you knew I’d be there for her if she needed me. It’s not like I can just pretend she doesn’t exist.”

“And what about me?” I felt a knot forming in my chest, the hurt spilling out in my words. “You didn’t even check on me yesterday. I waited for you all night, thinking you’d at least care to come home.”

He scoffed, taking a step closer, his gaze piercing. “You? I know you too well, Monique. Nothing serious happened to you. You were probably pretending…just like you pretended a year ago after that fire accident.”

My chest tightened, the anger flaring as I stepped toward him. “Seriously? Pretending? I saved you from that fire, Mark!”

His expression didn’t soften, and instead, he crossed his arms, voice steady and almost robotic. “Fine, let’s say you saved me. But Quiana got hurt. You’re fine, Monique, but she’s still suffering since that accident. Stop always trying to matter in times that you shouldn’t.”

The words hit me harder than I could’ve imagined. I stared at him, feeling my throat close up, a chill spreading through me. “Meaning… I don’t matter to you?”

“That’s your saying,” he replied, shrugging off my pain as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “By the way, there’s a meeting at the company. Make sure the high staff are there. It’s important.”

Without another glance, he turned and left, leaving me standing there, my heart splintered, my worth to him reduced to nothing. I could still feel the weight of his dismissal as the door clicked shut behind him, the silence louder than any storm.

Mark was ready before me later that morning, suit crisp, confidence radiating off him as he checked the time. I, on the other hand, was pulling myself together despite the doctor's orders to rest. I wasn’t getting much sleep, and stress was taking its toll on me, but I couldn't bring myself to slow down. Somehow, a part of me held on to the belief that if I kept being there for Mark—if I kept showing up in every way that mattered—he might finally see me, appreciate me, maybe even love me the way he used to.

When we left, he held the car door open, his gesture so automatic it felt devoid of meaning. As he drove us to Smiths, his family’s company, I tried asking about the meeting’s agenda, but he merely shrugged. "You'll find out soon enough," he replied, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Smiths Empire had grown exponentially under Mark’s leadership, a responsibility his grandfather had entrusted to him as CEO right after our wedding. As we entered, employees greeted him with the utmost respect, their eyes filled with admiration. I felt that familiar pang—a feeling that no one saw me standing beside him. Not as his wife, anyway. Just as I was beginning to blend into the background, a voice called out.

“Mark!”

He turned, and the stern expression he wore disappeared, replaced with a smile so genuine it almost startled me. There stood Quiana, his administrative assistant, the woman he had lifted to that role despite her complete lack of experience. She walked up to him and hugged him tightly, offering me only a casual wave. My heart tightened, but I forced a smile, swallowing the hurt.

“Remember what I said, Monique,” Mark said to me, his smile fading as he gave me a brisk nod, directing me to handle the meeting arrangements. I nodded obediently, feeling a chill as he and Quiana walked together down the hall to his office, her laughter echoing behind them.

I watched as a few employees exchanged knowing glances, their expressions clear: some of them mistook Quiana for his partner. That sting of being invisible hit me again, sharper than before. I had worked as an HR assistant for three years, giving up my own career as a writer to support Mark, yet he had never once considered promoting me. But for Quiana, he had gone above and beyond, even setting up a private office for her on the same floor as his. Meanwhile, I was left to work in the open space, an afterthought in my own husband’s company.

Pulling myself together, I went about notifying the senior staff about the meeting. Within the hour, the boardroom filled up. I stood behind Mark’s chair, waiting, but soon, Quiana walked in, her gaze flitting to me with a hint of smugness. She took the seat closest to him, the one that was always kept for her.

When Mark finally entered, I took a step back to make room for him, feeling more like an outsider than his wife. The meeting began, and Mark wasted no time, directing a few questions to the management team. Mr. Paul, the manager, answered his inquiries diligently, and soon, everyone in the room was relaxed. Then, Mark cleared his throat.

“I have an important announcement to make,” he said, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on me. My heart skipped a beat, hope flooding through me. He had once told me that he wanted me by his side to help him grow Smiths. I held my breath, almost certain this was my moment.

“The COO position has been vacant for a week now,” he continued, “and I’ve decided on a replacement.”

I tried to keep my composure as he glanced toward me again, almost expectantly. But then he turned to Quiana and said, “The new COO is Quiana.”

There was a gasp, and Quiana, sitting next to him, clapped a hand over her mouth, looking for all the world like she was surprised. But the way she instantly leaned into him, her arm around his shoulders, her lips pressing a quick peck to his cheek—it was all too smooth, too rehearsed. She had known.

I stood there, dumfounded. How could he do this?

As the meeting ended, Mark congratulated her, hugging her with a warmth I hadn’t felt from him in a long time. Everyone slowly filed out, but I stayed behind, rooted to the spot, watching as he continued to ignore my presence.

I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Mark,” I called softly.

He turned, his expression indifferent. “What?”

“Why her?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady. “Why make her COO when she’s barely been here six months?”

He raised an eyebrow. “She deserved it. She’s been gaining experience.”

I forced a bitter smile. “Experience? Or because you wanted her closer to you?”

“You’re ridiculous, Monique,” he sneered. “Pathetic, even.”

Anger flared within me, but I held it back. “I’ve been working tirelessly for three years, yet you never thought of promoting me.”

He scoffed, “You never deserved it.”

The words hit me hard. I wanted to argue, to make him see my worth, but I felt my throat tighten. I blinked back tears, swallowing my pride.

“Stop thinking so highly of yourself, Monique,” he added. “It’s pathetic.”

A bitter chuckle escaped me. “What about Mr. Paul? He’s been here for over a decade. He deserved that position more than anyone.”

His eyes narrowed. “You don’t tell me how to run my company.”

“I’m...I’m your wife, Mark,” I whispered, clinging to the last thread of what we once had.

“And so fucking what?” His voice was cold, indifferent, each word like a blow to my chest.

Quiana stepped in, her expression feigning concern. “Hey, Mark,” she said softly, her arm slipping around his. “You shouldn’t talk to her like that.”

Mark shrugged her off with a huff, “She asked for it.” Without another glance at me, he strode out, nearly shoving me aside.

I bit my lip, tears threatening to spill, but I wouldn’t let them. Not here, not in front of her. I had to keep it together.

Quiana’s gaze lingered on me, pity in her eyes. “I’m so sorry for how he spoke to you, Monique,” she murmured, already moving toward the door.

I couldn’t stop myself. “Really? Like you actually care.”

She paused, a smirk forming as she turned to face me. “What are you implying?”

“You’re the reason he changed toward me,” I shot back. “So don’t pretend you’re some saint.”

Her face shifted from feigned innocence to something colder. Then, she laughed, a sound that echoed cruelly in the empty room. “You’re right, Monique. Everything’s going just as I wanted.”

I felt a chill creep up my spine as she closed the distance between us. “Five years ago, I gave up on Mark. We’d been friends since kindergarten, but you stole him. So I let you have him…for a while. Then, a year ago, I decided to take him back.”

“You’re disgusting,” I whispered. “You should be ashamed.”

“Why?” she sneered. “Because I’ve got your husband wrapped around my finger? Or maybe I should be more ashamed of the fire incident a year ago?”

I recoiled, horrified. “The fire? I didn’t cause it!”

She leaned in, almost whispering, “I know. But Mark still thinks you did. I set it up perfectly.”

“Your…your plan?” My voice shook as realization dawned.

“Yes. And you fell right into it,” she taunted, her voice oozing satisfaction.

My heart pounded as I choked out, “How could you?”

She shrugged, completely unapologetic. “I wanted him back. I used the opportunity of the tiny rift between you guys then.” She laughed sadistically. “He’s never going to know I orchestrated it all.”

I took a shaky breath, my eyes blazing with defiance. “He will.”

Her smirk widened as she reached the doorway. “Do your worst, sweetheart.”

With that, she left, leaving me standing in the empty room, my heart in shreds.

I took a shaky breath, trying to pull myself together. The truth Quiana had just revealed churned in my mind, making it hard to think straight. Quiana—the one who always acted so sweet and innocent—had apparently gone to horrifying lengths to get what she wanted. I’d always known she was manipulative, but to set a fire, risking lives, just to have Mark? It felt like something out of a nightmare.

"Mark needs to know this," I decided, my voice barely a whisper as I left the conference room. I marched down the hall, my heels echoing against the polished floor, my heart pounding with each step. When I reached his office, I pushed the door open, not even bothering to knock.

Mark was behind his desk, glancing over some documents, and there, pouting at him from across the desk, was Quiana. She looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes as if she hadn’t just confessed to something monstrous minutes ago.

"Mark, we need to talk," I said, my voice strained as I met his eyes. “You need to hear what Quiana just admitted to me.”

Quiana gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “What on earth are you talking about, Monique?” She looked at me with such practiced shock, but I could see the smug glint in her eyes.

"Don’t lie, Quiana!" I snapped, feeling anger bubble up. “You just told me you set up that fire. How can you pretend like you didn’t?”

Mark’s head shot up, and he glared at me. “Monique, how could you be so callous as to accuse her of something so vile? Quiana was here just now, asking me to consider making you the COO over her, and here you are accusing her of something unthinkable.”

"What?” My gaze whipped to Quiana.