For the last five days, I lay in the hospital bed, my body burning as the fever consumed me due to severe dengue. My platelets dropped. My joints felt like they were being pulled apart. But the physical pain was nothing compared to how my husband Xander was treating me. A hundred times, he ignored me when I needed him the most.

When he finally did text back, it was always the same cold, copied-and-pasted excuse. Busy with the merger. Investors are breathing down my neck. I’ll come when I can.

But he never came. So, on the day I was finally discharged, I told the driver to take me straight to the office.

I reached the top floor. The door to his office was slightly ajar. And that’s when I overheard everything.

“Your wife keeps calling and texting, Xander. Should you visit her in the hospital?”

It was Ria. His secretary.

I leaned closer, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“She’s still sick,” Ria continued, her voice dripping with a fake, sickly-sweet concern. “Because of the dengue. And… my bad. It’s really my fault.”

There was a pause. The sound of papers shifting.

“I put that plant in her room,” Ria giggled softly. “The one that attracts mosquitoes. I just didn’t think… I’m sorry. Maybe she’ll get mad if she learns? It was an accident, because the plant is pretty, so you know.”

My blood ran cold. Then, I heard Xander’s laugh. It wasn’t the warm laugh I used to love. It was cold. Cruel.

“Actually, you were good at that, baby,” Xander said. “Honestly? It would be better if she just died. I should have stopped the hospital from giving her blood, but what can I do? I still need her for the merger.”

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand.

“So…” Ria’s voice dropped to a purr. “You are divorcing her, right? So, we can be together?”

“Baby, yes, but not yet, okay?” Xander said. “Can you just wait? A little more. The merger… the shares… I need time.”

“Okay, fine,” Ria pouted. I could practically hear the pout in her voice. “Just kiss me, then.”

Then, silence. The sickening sound of wet lips meeting filled the air.

I stood there, trembling. Not from the dengue. Not from the weakness. But from the pure, unadulterated rage that flooded my veins.

I pulled out my phone. My hands shook as I typed a message to him.

Where are you?

Through the crack in the door, I watched.

Xander pulled away from Ria. He glanced at his phone, annoyed. He typed a quick reply.

My phone buzzed.

Do not disturb. I’m in a critical meeting.

I looked at the screen. Then I looked at them.

I typed again.

Meeting or flirting with your secretary?

Inside the office, Xander froze. He looked up from his phone, his eyes scanning the room. Then, he looked at the door.

He saw me. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Ria jumped back as if she had been burned. She smoothed her skirt, her face instantly shifting into a mask of professional concern. She rushed toward me.

“Oh! Mrs. Lyanna!” she exclaimed, reaching out as if to steady me. “You’re here! Welcome back! Are you okay? We were just… everything has been so busy with the merger, Mr. Xander has been—”

“You are fired,” I said.

My voice was quiet. But it cut through the room like a knife.

Ria stopped. Her mouth hung open.

“I… what?”

“I don’t want to see you again,” I said, staring her dead in the eyes. “Pack your things. Get out.”

“But… Miss Lyanna!” Ria cried, looking at Xander for help. “I’ve been his secretary for two years! I’m the most reliable—”

“I am his wife,” I interrupted, stepping closer to her. I towered over her, despite my illness. “And I have the highest share in this company. So when I say you are fired, then you are fired.”

“Are you insane?!” Xander slammed his hand on the desk. He marched over to us, his face red with anger.

“She is my secretary, Lyanna! You can’t just come in here and start firing people!”

He grabbed my arm.

“Why are you even here creating a scene?” he demanded. “Is this because I didn’t go to the hospital? I told you, I was busy! I was busy with the merger! With the investors because you were sick, so I have to do your work! You’re being unreasonable, firing the one who was helping me.”

I looked at him. I looked at the man I had married. The man I had loved. And I saw absolutely nothing.

I pulled my arm out of his grip.

Xander blinked, stunned by the sudden coldness in my touch.

But it wasn't sudden. It was a long time coming.

For months, I had been drowning in doubt. I had convinced myself I was paranoid. I had convinced myself I was the problem—the nagging, insecure wife who didn't understand his ambition.

But standing there, looking at his flushed face, the memories flooded back.

The ninety-nine times before this one.

Since Ria walked into this company, I had become a ghost in my own marriage.

I remembered our anniversary dinner. I sat alone at that table for three hours while he was "fixing a crisis" with her.

I remembered the weekend getaway he cancelled last minute because Ria was "feeling overwhelmed" and needed his guidance.

I remembered the countless nights he came home late, smelling of her cheap vanilla perfume, and I had forced myself to believe it was just the office air freshener.

I had swallowed my pride. I had swallowed my intuition.

I had told myself he was just busy. That he was building an empire for us.

But he wasn't building a future for us. He was building a life with her.

The dengue didn't kill me. But this? This realization killed the Lyanna who used to make excuses for him.

The doubt vanished, replaced by a cold, hard resolve.

“Fine,” I said calmly.

I looked at Ria, who was smirking behind his back. Then I looked back at him.

“If you don’t want to fire her, how about divorce me?”

“If you don’t want to fire her, how about divorce me?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Xander stared at me. He blinked once. Twice. Then, a scoff escaped his lips, incredulous and condescending.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, shaking his head as if I were a child throwing a tantrum over a broken toy. “Asking for a divorce? For this? Because you are jealous? Lyanna, look at yourself. You’re sick. You’re emotional. You’re letting your hormones and this… this petty insecurity ruin everything we’ve built.”

Ria stepped forward, her hands clasped together in a plea that looked rehearsed. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with fake tears.

“Mrs. Lyanna, please, is it because of me?” she whimpered. “I didn’t mean to ruin your relationship. I was just trying to help Xander… Mr. Xander. He’s been under so much pressure. I would never want to come between you two. Please, don’t do this because of me.”

She looked at Xander, her lower lip trembling. Defending him. Acting like the martyr.

“It’s not his fault,” she added softly. “He’s just… he works so hard… for you and the family. We’re not—”

“I don’t care now,” I said. My voice was devoid of emotion. “If you want him, take him. I’m divorcing him.”

Xander’s face went pale. “Lyanna, stop it. You are taking this too far—”

“What the hell is happening here?”

The booming voice echoed from the hallway.

We all froze. Standing in the doorway, leaning heavily on his cane but looking as formidable as a mountain, was Jonathan. Xander’s grandfather.

“Why am I hearing a divorce from my favorite daughter-in-law?” he demanded.

Xander straightened his spine instantly, the arrogance vanishing, replaced by the fear of a little boy caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“Grandfather,” Xander stammered. “It’s… it’s nothing. Lyanna is just… she’s unwell. The dengue fever. She’s confused.”

“Confused?” Jonathan walked up to me. He took my hand, his grip gentle, inspecting my face. “She looks like a ghost, Xander! Why isn’t she in bed? Why isn’t she resting? And why, pray tell, are you shouting at your sick wife instead of taking care of her?”

“I am taking care of her!” Xander lied. “I was just—”

“He’s busy.” I didn’t look at Xander. I looked straight at Jonathan. “He’s busy with something else, Grandpa. Too busy to visit me in the hospital for five days. Too busy to answer my calls.”

“That is not true!” Xander protested, sweat beading on his forehead. “I was working! The merger, Grandpa! You know how critical it is. I was doing it for the family! For us! I was going to visit her today!”

He reached for me, putting on a show. “Lyanna, baby, tell him. I told you I’d make it up to you. I’ll take care of you now. I’ll fake—I mean, I’ll fix everything.”

Jonathan slammed his cane on the floor.

“You should be fixing this,” the old man growled. “Because I won’t allow a divorce in this family. Do you hear me? Now, fix your face. Let’s go. Let’s have dinner. We need to discuss the future of this company, and clearly, you need guidance.”

Xander nodded rapidly. “Yes. Yes, of course. Dinner.”

He gestured for me to follow. I didn’t move. Ria, seeing the shift in power, smoothed her skirt and took a step toward the door, falling in step behind Xander like a dutiful puppy.

“Why are you coming?” I asked.

“I… I always come,” she said, her voice small. “With the dinners. To take notes. To assist Mr. Xander. It’s protocol.”

“No need,” I said. “He doesn’t need you. He just needs his wife.”

“But… the merger details…” she tried to reason out. “Mr. Xander might need the files I have on my—”

“I said no need,” I cut her off. “You want her to come, Xander?” I asked.

It was a trap. And he knew it.

Xander looked at Ria. Then he looked at his grandfather, who was watching with narrowed, suspicious eyes. Then he looked at me. He sighed, a sound of defeat. He hesitated for a second—a second that told me everything I needed to know—before he spoke.

“No need, Ria,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes. “I can handle this. Go home.”

Ria flinched as if he had slapped her. Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked at me with pure venom, but she had no cards left to play.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

I smirked.

Dinner was an exercise in torture. We sat at the long mahogany table in the Miller estate. The silence was punctuated only by the clinking of silverware and Jonathan’s gruff questions about the quarterly projections.

I watched Xander. He couldn’t focus. He was shifting in his seat, his eyes darting to his lap every thirty seconds.

His phone. It was vibrating against his leg. I could see the glow illuminating his napkin.

Ria was probably texting him a storm. Crying. Accusing him. Demanding to know why he abandoned her.

“Xander!”

Jonathan’s voice cracked like a whip.

Xander jumped, nearly knocking over his wine glass. “Yes! Yes, Grandpa?”

“I asked you about the logistics for the Singapore expansion,” Jonathan said, his brow furrowed. “You’re not listening. What is so important on your lap?”

“Nothing,” Xander said quickly, shoving the phone deeper into his pocket. “Just business. Checking emails from the investors.”

“Business and business,” Jonathan grumbled, cutting into his steak. “That’s all you talk about. But what about the heir?”

The air left the room. I froze, my fork hovering halfway to my mouth.

“You’ve been married five years,” Jonathan continued, oblivious to the ice spreading through my veins. “I’m not getting any younger, Xander. I built this empire for my bloodline. I need to know it’s secure.”

Xander cleared his throat. He reached out and covered my hand with his. His palm was sweaty.

“Oh, we… we’re working on it,” Xander lied, putting on that charming, boyish smile. “We should try it again. Right, honey? When Lyanna is ready.”

Try again.

The words echoed in my head.

He said it so casually. As if we hadn’t lost our baby last year due to my stress because of him. As if I hadn’t bled out on the bathroom floor while he was at a “conference” that I later learned Ria had attended too.

He had neglected me then. He was neglecting me now. And he wanted to use my body to secure his inheritance.

I looked at him. I saw the desperation in his eyes. He didn’t want a child. He wanted the money.

I smiled.

It was the best acting performance of my life.

“Sure,” I said, my voice sweet as poison. “We can try again, Grandpa. For your heir.”

Jonathan nodded, satisfied. “Good. You should be. Or you won’t get the full inheritance. The trust stipulates a direct heir by the time you turn thirty. You’re running out of time.”

Xander squeezed my hand. Hard.

“We won’t let you down,” he promised. “We’ll make sure to give you a good news on our sixth anniversary next month.”

But what he didn’t know was that there would be no sixth anniversary.

Because I would be leaving in five days.

That night, back in our bedroom, the air was thick with unspoken tension.

Xander was pacing. He had finally checked his phone, and whatever Ria had sent him had clearly put him in a foul mood. But he couldn’t show it. Not to me. Not tonight.

He needed me to be pliable. He needed me pregnant.

He walked over to where I was sitting at the vanity, brushing my hair.

“Lyanna,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. He placed his hands on my shoulders. He leaned down, kissing the curve of my neck.

“I really am sorry about today,” he whispered. “Let me make it up to you. Let’s… let’s start trying. Right now.”

His hands slid down my arms. My skin crawled.

I stood up abruptly, breaking his hold.

“I’m tired, Xander,” I said, walking toward the bed and pulling the duvet up to my chin. “The doctor said I need rest. The dengue… I’m still weak.”

Xander’s jaw tightened. I saw the flash of anger in his eyes—the annoyance of a man denied what he felt he was owed.

“Fine,” he snapped.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“Well, okay. I will wait. You rest.”

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

“I’m going to the study. I have some… emails to catch up on.”

“Okay,” I murmured, closing my eyes.

I waited until I heard the door click shut. I waited until I heard his footsteps fade down the hallway. I knew he wasn’t going to the study. He was going to call her. Or worse, he was going to leave to see her.

I opened my eyes.

I reached for the burner phone I had hidden inside my pillowcase.

I dialed a number I had saved years ago, just in case.

“Hello?” A deep, gravelly voice answered.

“It’s Lyanna,” I whispered. “I need a favor. A big one.”

It was the family’s head butler. The man who had raised me more than my own parents had. The man who saw everything.

“Anything, Miss Lyanna.”

“Follow him,” I said, my voice turning to steel. “He’s leaving the house. I want you to follow him. Record everything. Take photos. Audio. Video. I want to know where he goes, who he sees, and what he says.”

“Consider it done.”

I hung up.

I lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling.

I wasn’t just leaving him.

I was going to ruin him.

The next morning, the sun streamed through the sheer curtains, mocking the gloom in my heart. Xander was gone. His side of the bed was cold, the sheets barely disturbed. He hadn’t come back to sleep.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my burner phone pressed to my ear.

“I want it done quietly,” I said, my voice low. “Discreetly. I don’t want a single whisper of this to reach the press or the family until I am gone.”

On the other end of the line was Arthur, the family lawyer. He had served the Millers and the Vancouvers for forty years. He knew where all the bodies were buried.

“Lyanna,” Arthur sighed, the sound crackling with static. “Are you absolutely sure about this? A divorce? It’s… extreme. I’m pretty sure your grandfather and his grandfather will not agree. You know the merger depends on this union. You’ve always been the power couple.”

Power couple.

The phrase tasted like ash in my mouth.

My mind drifted back.

I was twelve years old. Standing in the grand library, my patent leather shoes pinching my toes.

“This is Xander,” my grandfather had said, pushing me toward a boy with messy hair and an arrogant smirk. “He is going to be your husband one day.”

I had hated him instantly. He had pulled my pigtails and called me a doll.

I didn’t want him. I wanted… someone else.

I remembered a boy with gentle eyes and calloused hands. A boy who taught me how to skip stones on the lake. A boy I had to reject because my grandfather said he wasn’t “suitable.” He wasn’t an heir. He was nothing.

I had cried for weeks. But eventually, I had dried my tears. I had looked at Xander, the playboy prince, and thought, I can fix him. I can make this work.

I thought I could tame the storm.

I was so stupid.

“Lyanna?” Arthur’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Are you still there?”

“I’m here,” I said. The memory faded, replaced by the cold, hard reality of my empty bedroom. “And I don’t care about the merger, Arthur. I don’t care about the grandfathers. I regret ever listening to them.”

I took a deep breath.

“Process it. I just sent you the proof of the affair. The photos. The audio recordings from last night. It’s all there. That should make the infidelity clause in the prenup enforceable. Everything is void.”

There was a long silence on the other end. The sound of a man realizing the empire was about to crumble.

“I see,” Arthur said finally, his tone professional. “If the evidence is as substantial as you say… then yes. We can proceed.”

“Good,” I said. “Send the papers to me in four days. Not a day sooner. Not a day later.”

“Understood.”

I hung up.

My hands were trembling. Not from fear, but from adrenaline. It was happening. The wheels were in motion.

I looked at the phone in my hand. There was one more call to make.

One number I had never deleted. One number I had memorized by heart, even though I hadn’t dialed it in ten years.

My thumb hovered over the keypad.

If I did this, there was really no turning back. If I did this, I was burning the bridge and the entire kingdom along with it.

I pressed call.

It rang once. Twice.

“Hello?”

The voice was deeper than I remembered. rougher. But it still had that same gentle cadence that used to calm my storms.

“Van?” I whispered.

Silence.

“Lyanna?” he breathed. Disbelief colored his tone. “Is that… is that you?”

Tears pricked my eyes. Just hearing his voice broke something inside me that I didn’t know was still holding on.

“It’s me,” I said, my voice cracking.

“Are you okay? Why are you calling? Is everything—”

“Do you still love me?” I interrupted.

The question hung in the air, heavy and desperate.

Whatever he was doing on the other side of the world, whatever life he had built, I needed to know. I needed to know if the boy who skipped stones still existed.

There was a pause. A pause that lasted an eternity.

“You know I do,” Van said softly. “I never stopped. Not for a single day.”

A sob escaped my throat.

“Then…” I took a shaky breath, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “Can you pick me up? In five days? And… marry me?”