Maeve’s POV

“Maeve! Where’s breakfast?” Adrian’s voice shot through the air like a whip.

I blinked awake, still groggy, and found him standing in the doorway, irritation already pulling at his features.

“So this is your idea of working hard around the house? You can’t even manage breakfast now?”

I’d been up all night, filling out the paperwork for the Doctors Without Borders mission to Africa.

“Chop-chop,” he muttered, already turning away.

I exhaled, pushed the covers off, and rose.

I thought about telling Adrian about the program. But then I thought that he’d never let me go quietly—not without a fight.

So, I have decided that it was better to play the part until the moment I slipped those signed divorce papers onto his desk and walked out the door.

Until then, I’d be the wife he wanted. The mother Cam tolerated.

I washed my face, tied my hair back, and headed to the kitchen.

I brought the breakfast to the table like always—except today, Viola was there too. The secretary. Sitting at the dining table like she owned it.

Adrian didn’t seem to mind to have his secretary sitting at the head seat. Neither did Cam. They were too busy laughing at something she said.

“Auntie Viola, how do you know so much?” Cam beamed up at her like she hung the stars.

She gave him a playful pat on the head. “Just stay in school, sweetie. You’ll get there.”

“Learn from your Auntie Viola,” Adrian added, draping an arm casually over the back of her chair. “She’s been a great help to me.”

For a second, I stood there like a stranger in my own home.

My husband saw me as a burden. My son was ashamed of me.

And Viola? She’d slid into my place without so much as a second thought.

My fingers curled tight around the edge of my apron. Just a few more days, Maeve, you can do this.

…

After the breakfast, Viola and Adrian didn’t leave the house. They were getting ready for tonight’s annual mafia ball.

Adrian had stormed in earlier, frustrated all over about that ruined dress again, going on about how I’d ruined his day. He told me to find another dress—as if I had someone on call to hand-stitch a gown overnight. I didn’t. And he knew that. He said it to make me feel small and humiliated.

Knock, knock.

The door opened without waiting for a response.

“Sorry,” Viola said, too sweet. “Adrian said I could use your powder room to get ready.”

I moved aside. “Go ahead.”

She swept in, followed by a small team of makeup artists. They headed straight into the powder room.

I could still hear Adrian’s voice the day we moved in, “This will be your beauty room, Maeve. You’ll be the most stunning Donna in the city. I’ll take you to every gathering. The other Dons will be jealous.”

I never used it. Not once.

Now Viola sat at the vanity, laughing easily as the artists touched up her lips and smoothed her hair while I stood in the hallway, watching.

Maybe it did make sense—that Adrian chose to bring her. That people mistook her for his Donna.

She looked the part, maybe even sounded the part.

And me? I looked down at my hands—wrinkled from years of cleaning. My clothes were stained, worn from chores I never had time to replace. I couldn’t remember the last time I wore something that fit me right.

I couldn’t compete with someone like her.

And for the first time, I realized I no longer wanted to either.

…

In the end, Viola brought her own dress. It earned her immediate praise from Adrian.

“Compared to someone who does nothing but cause trouble,” he said coolly, “you saved the night again. Thank you, Viola.”

As he turned away, I caught the briefest curve of a smile on her lips—gone before I could be sure it was ever there.

“Oh, Don, that’s not fair,” Viola said gently. “Maeve has been a great help around the house. I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm by trying on my dress, right?”

Her eyes flicked to me.

I didn’t respond.

Adrian turned, his gaze sharp, warning.

“I’m sorry,” I said, forcing a smile. “About the dress.”

Viola brightened. She reached behind her and produced a garment bag. “Adrian mentioned you liked the dress very much. So I sent it to my tailor and had it altered to your size.”

She handed it to me.

My cheeks burned as I took it. The gesture looked generous—thoughtful, even. But I knew better.

The careful emphasis on your size. The way she presented it, like a favor bestowed. A kindness I had no choice but to accept.

A dress that had never been mine… Ruined by me. Now returned to me—reshaped, corrected.

I couldn’t tell whether I should feel grateful… or humiliated.

“Why don’t you wear it and come with us tonight, Maeve?” Viola asked lightly.

“No!”

“No…”

Our voices overlapped. But Adrian’s came faster—sharper, almost panicked.

Viola froze.

“She’s never been to that kind of party,” Adrian said quickly. “She wouldn’t know how to handle it.”

Then he turned to me. “Why are you still standing there? Go put Viola’s generous gift in your wardrobe. Those ugly clothes of yours could use something pretty mixed in.”

My fingers tightened around the handle of the bag.

I was so close to speaking. So close. But I didn’t have the strength for another lecture.

So at the end, I just nodded and walked back to the bedroom.

The door clicked shut behind me.

I dropped the bag onto the floor. The dress spilled out—silk pooling softly against the tiles.

I let it sit there for a long moment. Then I knelt and picked it up.

It was beautiful. The most beautiful dress I’d seen in years.

I stood in front of the mirror and held the dress up against myself.

Even altered to my size, it didn’t feel belong to me.

My reflection from the mirror stared back—bare face, unstyled hair, a woman worn thin by years of being overlooked. And suddenly, my mind drifted back to last night.

How foolish I’d been. How arrogant, even—to believe, for one fleeting second, that the dress might have been meant for me.

The dress had never been mine. And neither had the life I’d been trying so hard to keep.

Maeve’s POV

I started packing the clothes I planned to take with me to Africa.

It wasn’t much—just enough to fill a single small suitcase.

And even with it zipped shut by the door, the wardrobe looked untouched. The dresses Adrian had once bought me still hung where they always had. The jewelry sat in its velvet case, undisturbed.

I wouldn’t be needing any of it.

Ten years in this house, and all I had the right to take with me… was one suitcase.

My phone buzzed. “I left an important envelope in my study. Get dressed and bring it to the Grand Hotel.”

Another message came right after. “Make sure you dress appropriately. I don’t want anyone thinking my wife is some poorly dressed housewife who doesn’t know how to present herself.”

I sighed.

Ignoring Adrian’s texts would only invite another round of condescension when he got home. And the envelope—whatever it was—must’ve mattered. Adrian never asked for help. But tonight, he did.

To avoid more trouble, I chose to go.

I slipped into the dress Viola had given me—the only beautiful thing in my wardrobe that still fit.

I sat at the vanity in the powder room—hesitating.

Did I need makeup? I wasn’t going to be a guest. I would walk in, hand Adrian the envelope, and leave.

Still, I reached for the foundation. Just a light layer and a soft swipe of lipstick. I pinned my hair into a low bun.

I wasn’t a different woman—but I looked beautiful now.

I found the envelope in Adrian’s study, tucked it carefully into my bag, and headed to the Grand Hotel.

…

The hotel was more crowded than I expected.

I had always imagined the annual mafia gathering to be a sleek, exclusive event—maybe fifty people, tops. But the moment I stepped inside, I realized how wrong I was.

There were hundreds. Five hundred, maybe more. All dressed in silk and suits, diamonds glittering like stars under chandeliers the size of cars.

I tried calling Adrian many times, but he didn’t answer.

So, in the end, I decided to slip into the ballroom to find him myself.

Just then, a voice boomed over the speakers, “Let’s welcome the youngest and most successful man of the evening—Adrian Kane—to the stage!”

Next second, someone bumped me hard from behind.

I stumbled forward and hit the dance floor hard, my knees scraping against the polished marble.

Laughter exploded around me.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Jesus, her dress—”

I looked down.

The fabric had torn completely. Threads unraveled like they’d been stitched with cheap glue. Within seconds, the dress was in pieces around me. All that remained was the thin beige slip I’d worn beneath it.

The laughter grew louder.

“Did her dress just fall apart?”

“God, who wears knock-offs to this party?”

“Someone call security!”

I forced myself to lift my chin.

Adrian stood on stage, staring down at me.

He looked pissed, but he didn’t move. He acted like he didn’t knew me at all.

Someone in the crowd asked, “Whose plus one is this?”

No one answered. The silence that followed was worse than the laughter.

A woman sneered, “Who would admit to bringing a knock-off to the most important party of the year?”

Then— “Maeve?”

Viola.

She rushed over, concern all over her face. But when she turned her head, I caught it. The flicker of a smile she was trying to hide.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice pitched high.

I stood slowly, my knees aching, and handed her the envelope.

“Adrian texted. Said something important was left at the house.”

Someone whispered, “Who is she?”

Then louder, “Mrs. Kane?”

And laughter. “Our charming Don Kane has a secret Donna?”

“No—” Adrian stepped off the stage.

“No,” he said again, firmer this time. “She’s the housemaid. What are you doing here?”

“I—”

“She thought something was forgotten,” Viola interrupted smoothly. “So she brought it over. That’s all.”

Viola’s words were just vague enough to give the crowd a story they could twist.

Someone laughed behind a champagne flute. “We almost thought she was your secret Donna, Adrian. Imagine the scandal.”

Adrian stepped forward, his voice strong and practiced. “My secret Donna? Her?”

His gaze dragged over me, slow and deliberate. “Why would my Donna be someone like… that?”

“So who will be?”

“Viola!”

“So, is this the year you finally make Viola your Donna, Adrian?”

“Mrs. Kane!”

Adrian looked at me—just once, silent and unreadable—before turning back to the sea of faces.

“I had hoped to keep this quiet,” he said smoothly, “at least until I received a proper answer from Miss Viola. But since you all insist…”

He turned to her, lowering himself to one knee. “Will you marry me and be my Donna?”

Cheers erupted around them.

I bent down, gathering the torn remnants of my dress, and stepped back into the shadows. I wasn’t sure why I looked back—but I did.

“Yes,” Viola said, breathless and smiling. “Yes, I do, Adrian.”

She threw her arms around him. Adrian held her close—and for the briefest moment, his eyes found mine again.

There was no apology in them. Just indifference. And maybe, buried beneath it, the faintest trace of pity.

I thought my heart had already burned to ash. Turns out, it could still feel pain.

To Adrian, I was nothing but a loose thread—something unsightly to keep hidden from the polished world he wanted to impress.

And for ten years, I’d been foolish enough to believe he’d bring me into that world, call me his Donna and stand beside me in front of them all.

Maeve’s POV

I got home and stepped straight into the shower, hoping the water could wash away everything I didn’t want to feel.

I’d just stepped out when I heard footsteps in the hallway.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Adrian’s voice slammed into the room before I even had a chance to breathe. “Were you deliberately trying to sabotage my image tonight? My reputation?”

“I got a text,” I said calmly. “You said you left something important.”

“Well, I didn’t!” His face was flushed, his hands gesturing wildly. “And even if I had—why would you enter the party like that? Didn’t you think to use the service entrance?”

I stared at him. “So after more than a decade of marriage, I’m not even allowed to walk through the front door of your party? I have to sneak in like the help? That’s what you’re saying?”

Adrian faltered. “It’s not what I meant…” he said, softer now. “I just wish you hadn’t done it. You put me in an impossible position. I’ve got two major deals in negotiation. Everyone was asking about me and Viola and I…”

“I was there,” I said, turning away. “I heard you propose to her. While we’re still married.”

Adrian moved quickly, stepping in front of me and turning me back to face him.

“I had to,” he said. “They need to see me as stable. As someone with a Donna who fits the role.”

He hesitated, finally glancing my way. “We have to get a divorce for now,” he said. “But it’ll just be for show.”

The day after our tenth anniversary, the man I’d loved for half my life stood in front of me and told me he needed a divorce—for appearances. For his status and his business.

“Don’t worry, Maeve,” he rushed on, like he was afraid I might refuse. “Think of it as a vacation. You won’t have to worry about the house anymore. I’ll give you money—enough to travel, to relax. Once those two deals close, we’ll remarry. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable. I…”

He trailed off, watching my face too closely.

Almost funny—how careful he suddenly was. As if he knew, on some level, that what he was asking for wasn’t reasonable, that he’d already taken far too much from me.

“I’ll give you both houses,” he added quickly. “This one. And the beach house.” He reached for my hand. “Maeve, try to understand. This is a difficult decision for me. I really need your support.”

I didn’t answer right away.

Adrian continued, listing every promise, every compensation, every excuse.

“Maeve, I’m doing this for us—for the family. I want you and Cam to have a better life than anyone else. I know this might sound unreasonable… but it’s only temporary.”

When he finally ran out of words, I looked at him and said quietly, “Alright. I’ll sign.”

Relief washed over his face instantly. “You’re incredible, Maeve. It’s only for show. I knew you’d understand.”

He kept talking—about waiting for him again, about trusting him, about how nothing had happened with Viola, how I was still the only one.

I stopped listening.

For show or not, it no longer mattered.

Because by the time Adrian realized we were truly over—

I would already be gone.

…

The next day, I went to the office to finalize the last of my paperwork for Doctors Without Borders. The resume was complete. The decision made.

“Mrs. Kane?” The staff called out.

I smiled gently. “It’s actually Maeve Calder.”

“Oh—sorry, Miss Calder.” She returned the smile. “We have everything on file now. If there’s nothing else to add, please sign here to confirm your acknowledgment of departure. You’ll be leaving New York for Scevut, Africa, tonight at 8 p.m.”

I picked up the pen and signed in one smooth motion. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Miss Calder. Welcome to the program. We hope you have a meaningful experience working with our African office.”

Just as I walked out of the office, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Adrian.

“Where are you?” he asked impatiently.

“Just out. Getting groceries.”

“Come back to the house. I... got the papers ready.”

Right, the papers.

He’d only brought it up last night, but he already had them prepared. Which meant, of course, he’d been ready for this long before he ever said the words out loud.

“I’ll head back now,” I said.