My parents were found brutally murdered, their bodies dismembered in our home. At the same time, the company they built was on the verge of bankruptcy.

In desperation, I begged my fiancé for help.

Instead, he turned around and threw the wedding of the century—with Amina.

At my parents’ funeral, when I had nothing left to hold onto, my fiancé's older brother Marco—a police officer—knelt before me and proposed.

He said he’d be the one I could rely on for life. He promised to uncover the truth behind the murders.

I said yes without hesitation.

Regardless, the case of my parents murder was closed without answers.

Overwhelmed by grief, Marco handled everything—the funeral, the estate, the painful details I couldn’t bear to face. Then he brought me home to the family manor, belonging to his family, the Fishers.

We married.

Five years passed. I thought I had finally found peace. Until one day, by sheer accident, I overheard Marco talking to a colleague at the precinct:

“Marc, back then the Vogel case had only one suspect—Amina. Why did you drop the investigation? How could you, with your badge, let it go like that? Don’t you realize Pauline’s been living under the same roof as her parents’ killer all these years? What if she finds out?”

“Amina is innocent,” Marco replied. “She just happened to be there that night. What happened to the Vogels had nothing to do with her. I believe that.”

“I may have let down the uniform, but I didn’t betray my heart. Even if she didn’t choose me, as long as she’s happy... I’d do anything.”

The pregnancy test in my hand suddenly felt scorching hot.

It all made sense now. The person who murdered my parents… had been beside me all along.

How ironic. The man I loved with all my heart—my husband—had known the truth. He had hidden it from me for five years.

Whatever this marriage had been, it wasn’t worth holding onto.

——

Just a door away, Marco stood staring at a framed photo of us on the wall. His voice was heavy with a sorrow that came from loving someone who would never love him back.

“Amy didn’t choose me. So clearing every obstacle in her path… making sure she had nothing to worry about—that was the only thing I could do for her. Then, about Pauline… I’ll watch over her. I won’t let her find out the truth.”

Across him, his colleague looked heartbroken, disappointment etched into his face.

“Marco, you spent eight years on this case. You’ve got more medals than most of us could dream of. Why throw it all away for Amina? She never loved you. And her being at the Vogels’ that night? That was no accident.”

“If this ever gets out, you’ll lose your badge, your career—hell, your entire reputation. You could go to prison. Are you out of your mind?”

Marco gave a small, bitter laugh, shaking his head like it didn’t matter.

“Out of my mind? Maybe. But love doesn’t follow logic. That case is closed. Leave it buried.”

“And what about Pauline?” his colleague pressed, voice rising. “You married her. You brought her into your home. You made her live under the same roof as the person who slaughtered her parents. Did you ever stop to think what that would do to her? She loves you, Marco. She—”

Before his colleague could finish the sentence, Marco’s expression turned cold.

“That’s enough. I told you—Amina's not the killer. If someone has to pay for what happened, then let it be me. I’ll take the fall for her if I have to.”

“Jesus, Marco…” the other man sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I just don’t get you. What’s the point? The motive, the evidence—it’s all there. And still, you… whatever. If you really think this is okay, then keep going. Your call.”

Footsteps echoed down the hallway—getting closer.

I bolted. Stumbled back to the bedroom, heart pounding in my throat.

Images from five years ago came flooding back—my parents' lifeless, mutilated bodies in our home. The company collapsing under the weight of scandal and grief.

It was Marco who had stepped in back then, like a hero. He cleared the debts, pulled me from the wreckage and brought me into the Fishers as his wife.

I thought I’d found true love. I sank into it, let it consume me. I was convinced happiness had finally found me.

But it was all a lie. A carefully crafted illusion.

He didn’t marry me out of love—he married me to keep me close. To watch me. To make sure I never got too close to the truth.

Bringing me into his life wasn’t about saving me. It was about protecting Amina.

All these years, our marriage had been nothing more than his way of easing his own guilt.

And I... God, what a joke!

I had paraded that lie around like it was the real thing — smiling, proud, telling everyone how lucky I was.

The door shut with a dull thud. His colleague had left.

Marco stumbled into the room, clearly drunk and cupped my face in his hands, pressing a kiss to my forehead. His eyes, glazed with alcohol, were filled with something soft—concern, maybe even guilt.

“Why are you standing by the door?” he asked gently.

“It’s nothing,” I said with a smile. “I was bringing you something to help sober up… spilled it by accident.”

“You shouldn’t be doing that. Let the housekeeper handle it,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ve been exhausted lately. Get some rest, or I’ll start worrying.”

Then he leaned in and kissed me again—soft, familiar, just like he always did.

Just this time, I couldn’t feel a thing.

It was strange, how a person could go so far, do so much… all for someone who didn’t love them back. I closed my eyes and a tear slid down my cheek.

I helped him to bed and pulled the covers over him. He fell asleep almost instantly, lulled by the alcohol.

I sat down at the edge of the bed and slowly reached for his phone. The passcode was Amina’s birthday.

Once entered, the screen flickered into a hidden interface—clean, simple, but one thing stood out: the photo gallery, completely full.

He had documented everything from the Vogel case—A thousand photos, maybe more. Every single one tied to Amina. Her possible motives. The evidence that pointed to her. Even surveillance footage of her standing at the gate of the Vogels’ villa the night they were killed.

Clear as day.

When I reached the end of the gallery, I found something that hit harder than anything else. He had labeled the case as “unsolved.”

Marco had brought the files home to avoid drawing suspicion from his colleagues. The only record he kept was here—on his phone. Hidden. Just for himself.

His bias. His protection of her. It was all there, plain as day.

The weight of it made my chest ache. He’d always been a principled investigator—firm, intuitive, driven by truth. Those were the very reasons I fell so deeply in love with him.

I never imagined he’d abandon all of it—his integrity, his convictions—just for Amina.

And then, I noticed another folder. Private. Locked.

I opened it. Nothing but photos of Amina smiling. Hundreds of them. Snapshots spanning five years of her life since the wedding.

As the second daughter-in-law, marrying into the Fisher Family, she naturally had attended countless public events—and Marco had saved them all.

In every group photo, my face had been carefully cropped out. That message couldn’t have been clearer.

I let out a dry, bitter laugh and closed the album. I didn’t need to see any more.

Instead, I pulled out my own phone and began to quietly document everything—every image, every piece of evidence he thought he’d hidden.

That night, I booked a one-way ticket. Departure: three days later. Destination: anywhere but this city.

I filed for the cancellation of all my personal documents—ID, bank cards, everything tied to my current life.

I didn’t sleep.

At sunrise, I went to the bathroom to wash up. My phone buzzed.

Marco’s voice came through the door, confused, “Polly? Why did you cancel your ID?”

I quickly pulled the phone from the counter, slipping it out of sight as casually as I could.

“Oh, nothing,” I said with a small smile. “My ID was about to expire—I just booked an appointment to renew it.” I paused, trying to appear calm. “Don’t you have training today? You should get going.”

He didn’t question it. Instead, he pulled me into his arms, holding me close, his cheek brushing against mine.

“Babe,” he whispered, his voice soft and teasing, “are you trying to surprise me?”

I froze for half a second.

“I saw the pregnancy report.” He reached out and playfully tapped my nose. “Mom and Dad have been asking about grandkids for five years. If they knew, they’d be over the moon.”

Then his tone softened, a little reverent, a little too smooth. “Their memorial’s coming up, isn’t it? Let’s go together. We’ll bring some flowers and tell them the good news, yeah? Maybe even host a family dinner after—Marc hasn’t been back in a while.”

I smiled faintly. Said nothing.

He spun me in a joyful circle, his excitement overflowing. For five years, he had tried so hard to patch things up between me and Marcel, his brother and my former fiancé, pushing for family reunions, holiday dinners, “accidental” run-ins.

I used to believe that was love. Now, I saw it for what it really was—calculated. He wasn’t building bridges for my sake. He just needed a reason to see Amina again.

This entire marriage—five years of it—had been one long, careful performance.

Now, it was time to bring down the curtain.

Not long after Marco stepped out the door, I left the house.

I headed straight to the law office to print the divorce papers. Then, I finalized the cancellation of all my personal documents.

There was no point in going to the police now. The files were already in Marco’s hands. Without evidence, I didn’t stand a chance. Leaving was the only option I had left.

I took the divorce papers and made my way to Marco’s precinct.

But as I reached the building, I heard voices—his colleagues, chatting near the entrance.

“That woman—isn’t she Captain Fisher’s wife? She looks familiar… Wait, wasn’t she connected to that Vogel murder case five years ago?”

“Hey, you trying to get yourself sent on double shifts?” one of them whispered sharply. “Watch your mouth. The Captain’s made it crystal clear—she wasn’t the killer. You want him to snap again? He’s had more than one screaming match with the chief over that case.”

“Still… that outfit’s gotta cost six figures easy. I heard she just got back from overseas. Someone that rich—hard to believe she’d be capable of murder. And the way the Captain looks at her? If she was the killer, he would've arrested her on the spot.”

My nails dug into the flesh of my palms.

I stood frozen just outside the office door. Then I heard it—his voice. Familiar. Intimate.

“Has he been treating you well these years?” It was Marco.

A reply came with, light and teasing tone, “You know your brother. He found out I was flying back and insisted on buying me a private jet. I told him not to, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s been married for five years and still acts like a lovesick kid...”

Marco’s voice followed—low, tight, laced with longing he couldn’t quite hide.

“Good,” she said lightly. “That puts my mind at ease.”

“Marco, I really owe you for what you did back then. If it weren’t for you, I might’ve ended up in prison.”

“Then, about the big family dinner tomorrow… maybe I should skip it. I don’t want to upset Pauline. Every time she sees me, it just reminds her of Uncle and Aunt Vogel. I’m afraid she’ll start another fight with you…”

That was Amina. Always playing both sides. Taking everything she could—and still finding a way to act like the victim. Passive-aggressive. Sugar-laced venom.

I remembered the old case files Marco kept hidden away. I’d seen them—briefly, secretly—back when he was still investigating.

Amina was the only suspect.

On their wedding day, I stood up in front of everyone and called her out. Told the crowd she was the one who killed my parents. Demanded she be taken to the police.

But no one believed me. They called me bitter. Unreasonable. Hysterical.

Marco… back then, he was the only one who stepped in to shield me.

At the time, I thought he was my salvation. But now I saw it clearly. He was the one who had pushed me into the abyss.

Inside the office, I watched as Marco gave a quiet, bitter smile. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small ceramic figurine.

“I made this myself,” he said softly. “It’s not fancy like the things in stores, but… it’s from the heart. I heard you’re expecting. Consider it a little welcome gift—for the baby.”

Amina took the ceramic gift with a bright smile and a playful little shrug.

“So cute,” she said, sticking out her tongue like a mischievous kid.

Just then, my hand trembled against the doorframe, making a soft noise.

Marco looked up and, through the glass, spotted me standing just outside. His expression shifted instantly—panic creeping into his features.

“Polly? What are you doing here?” He stood so quickly you’d think I’d caught them in something.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said quickly. “Amy just got back into town, she stopped by to catch up—and we were just talking about tomorrow night’s dinner.”

“Pauline,” Amina chimed in sweetly, rising to her feet. “It’s been so long.”

She wore a brand-new designer dress, the kind that screamed exclusivity. Perfectly styled, perfectly poised. Standing next to her, I felt like I’d walked in from another world—plain, tired, out of place.

I smiled and nodded, swallowing down the knot in my throat.

“It’s nothing,” I said gently. “Just passing by. Thought I’d drop in… but you’re busy. I’ll let you get back to it.”

I leave afterwards.

Marco assumed I was upset. So, he ran after me, catching up just outside the door.

“Polly, wait—don’t overthink it, please. Amy’s pregnant too, I just wanted to ask her for advice. I thought it might help me take better care of you.” He looked genuinely worried. Like he still believed I didn’t see through it all.

Somehow, that made me want to laugh. He had broken every rule he ever claimed to live by—Abandoned his ethics, his honor, his vows—All to protect Amina.

He’d sacrificed our entire marriage for her.

Since he got exactly what he wanted… Who was he still pretending for?