Gabriel blinked, and for a split second the rage in his eyes wavered. Panic slipped in where certainty had been, and he instinctively stepped back as though the ground beneath him had shifted. His posture, once defensive and sharp, softened into something almost pitiful—something that looked a lot like fear dressed up as denial.

“What? No—absolutely not!” he blurted out, laughing awkwardly like the sound might erase what I had said. He dragged a hand through his hair, clearly unsettled. “Marielle, you’re misreading everything again. I’m not cheating on you. I’m just… protective, okay? Seeing you with Martin threw me off. I got jealous. That’s all. It’s because I love you.”

He reached for me then, hesitating for only a moment before pulling me into his arms. I didn’t move. I stayed stiff, unresponsive, feeling the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat pressed against me like a confession he didn’t realize he was making.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into my hair, his voice shifting into that familiar, gentle tone—the one he always used when he wanted things to go back to normal. “We’re both overwhelmed. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I’m sorry, baby.”

Pulling back slightly, he brushed a tear I didn’t even notice I had shed. “Let’s just leave this behind us,” he said softly. “We should focus on what matters. We can plan something for the baby… a memorial. Something meaningful. And after that, when you’re ready, we can try again. We can still have the family we always dreamed of.”

I stared at him, almost in disbelief at how easily he could reshape reality with words. But I was exhausted in a way that went deeper than sleep could fix. My body felt heavy, my chest hollow. I didn’t have anything left to throw back at him.

So I nodded.

A small, fragile curve formed on my lips, like something dry cracking under pressure. “Okay,” I said quietly. “Alright, Gabriel.”

Relief washed over him instantly. His shoulders loosened as if someone had cut a string tied too tight. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered. “Rest now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once he left, I locked the door behind him and slid down slowly until my back met the floor, my face buried in my arms.

Morning came too brightly, too clean, as if the world had no idea what it had done to me. I sat on the edge of the bed staring blankly when my phone vibrated against the sheets.

“It’s all arranged,” my mother’s voice came through the line—calm, precise, controlled. “Your papers are finalized. Visa’s approved. I had to pull a few favors, but it’s done. You’re booked on a flight to Zurich in three days.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Three days.

“Zurich?” I repeated softly.

“It’s private there. Safe. Remote. We still have that chalet—no one knows about it,” she explained. “Are you certain about this, Marielle? Because once you leave, you don’t come back.”

“I just need to get out,” I whispered. “Thank you, Mother. I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Before she could answer, the door clicked open.

I ended the call too quickly, my body going still.

Gabriel walked in carrying a breakfast tray, placing it on the bedside table like nothing had changed. His tone was casual, but his eyes weren’t—they were sharp, watching.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked lightly. Then, his gaze narrowed slightly. “And what did you mean by ‘I’ll leave’?”

He stepped closer, suspicion creeping into his voice. “Are you planning to leave me, Marielle? Is that it? Are you doing something behind my back? I already told you—no divorce. We’re not—”

“No,” I interrupted softly, forcing ease into my tone. “I was just talking to a travel agent.”

“A travel agent?” he repeated, clearly unconvinced.

“Yes,” I continued, smoothing the moment over. “I was thinking… after everything, maybe we should take a break. A trip. Just us. Like you said last night.” I reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “We could go somewhere far. Romantic. Paris… Italy… somewhere like that.”

The suspicion in his face dissolved almost instantly, replaced by relief so obvious it almost made me sick.

“Oh,” he exhaled, letting out a small laugh. “Thank God. You really scared me for a second there.” He shook his head, smiling again as he kissed my knuckles. “That’s a great idea. Of course. We’ll go anywhere you want. I’ll clear my schedule.”

“Really?” I asked, widening my eyes as if I believed him.

“Anything for you,” he said without hesitation.

For the next two days, I played my role flawlessly. The grieving wife learning how to breathe again. I talked about Italy like it was a dream we shared. I smiled at hotel options beside him. I let him hold my hand, let him believe we were still intact.

On my second night—the last before everything ended—he surprised me.

“Get ready,” Gabriel said as he entered the room, holding a small velvet box.

Inside was a diamond necklace that sparkled under the light.

“I got us tickets,” he added, almost proud. “Phantom of the Opera. I know it’s your favorite.”

I looked at the necklace for a long moment before taking it. It was breathtaking. And yet it felt like something meant to decorate a cage.

“Thank you,” I said quietly as he fastened it around my neck.

The theater was exactly as I remembered it—grand, glowing, full of music that once made me believe in forever. We sat in a private box as the chandelier rose and the orchestra swelled.

For a brief moment, I let myself drift. Back to the first time we watched this show together. Back when I had cried during the finale, and he had held my hand like I mattered.

I turned to him in the dim light. His face was lit by the stage glow, focused, almost perfect.

Do you love me? I had once asked.

Of course I do, he had said.

A lie I had mistaken for truth.

Halfway through the second act, his phone buzzed.

He ignored it at first.

Then again.

And again.

His brows pulled together as he finally pulled it out. The screen lit his face. I saw the name before he even reacted—Camille.

His expression changed immediately. He read the message, jaw tightening, then glanced at me before typing back quickly. Another buzz followed almost instantly.

He sighed, annoyed now, and leaned toward me with a practiced look of regret.

“Marielle,” he said under his breath. “I need to go.”

I blinked slowly. “Now?”

“It’s urgent,” he replied quickly. “Something came up with the merger. Investors are panicking. I have to handle it.”

“Can’t it wait?” I asked, watching him carefully. “You promised this night was ours.”

“I know,” he said, already standing and reaching for his coat. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Stay and finish the show. I’ll have the driver pick you up later.”

He pressed a quick kiss to my cheek—barely there, already gone in his mind—and left without another glance.

The velvet curtain swung shut behind him.

I turned back toward the stage. The Phantom sang about darkness and longing, filling the space he had left behind.

I sat alone in the private box, the diamond necklace suddenly heavy against my skin. The empty seat beside me felt louder than the music.

Still, I didn’t cry.

I was past that.

Instead, I opened my bag and pulled out my phone.

One last call before I disappeared.

I dialed the lawyer my mother had given me.

A rough voice answered. “Yeah?”

“This is Marielle,” I said clearly, steady despite everything breaking around me. “I’m ready. Prepare the divorce papers. Send them tomorrow.”

Before I left, I still had to attend the merger’s celebration night—otherwise, people would start asking questions, and suspicion would spread too quickly. For one last time, I needed to wear the mask of a devoted wife and act like nothing in my world had already fallen apart.

So I smiled until my cheeks stiffened painfully. I shook hands with investors, nodded politely as they offered condolences for the “miscarriage,” and played my role so well that even I almost believed it.

“You look beautiful, darling,” Gabriel murmured beside me, his hand settling possessively at the small of my back. He was dressed sharply in a tuxedo, every inch the polished young CEO everyone admired.

“Thank you,” I replied evenly, keeping my tone smooth. “You’ve done well, Gabriel. Everyone’s impressed.”

“We’ve done well,” he corrected with a light clink of his champagne glass against mine. “I couldn’t have pulled this off without you.”

It was almost funny—how convinced he was that everything between us had somehow returned to normal. That the Italy trip he assumed we were taking tomorrow had somehow stitched our broken marriage back together.

“Excuse me,” I said suddenly when I spotted a passing waiter. “I need water.”

I eased away from him, slipping through the crowd, needing even a few seconds where I could breathe without him in it. His presence had started to feel like pressure against my ribs.

I found a quiet spot near the terrace doors and took a slow sip of water. From there, I could see almost the entire ballroom.

And then I saw her.

Camille, of course.

She stood out immediately—too short, too red, too attention-seeking for a corporate event that demanded elegance. She was laughing loudly near the bar, leaning far too comfortably into one of the junior partners from the acquiring company.

Her hand lingered on his arm. She leaned closer, whispering into his ear. The man laughed, then placed his hand casually at her waist like they’d known each other longer than they had.

And then she kissed him.

Right there. Bold. Careless. Almost proud.

I watched without jealousy, without anger—just a strange, distant awareness, like I was observing something irrelevant happen to someone else’s life.

Then I noticed Gabriel.

He was across the room speaking with his grandfather, but his attention wasn’t there. His gaze was locked onto the bar. I saw the way his expression tightened, jaw clenching sharply. A vein pulsed at his neck.

Without another word, he excused himself mid-conversation and moved.

Fast. Controlled. Angry.

He crossed the room toward her, careful not to make a spectacle, but the force in his movements made everything clear. When he reached Camille, he grabbed her elbow—not gentle, not even close—and leaned in to hiss something into her ear.

Camille pulled away with an irritated look, clearly drunk and unbothered. He grabbed her again, firmer this time, and guided her toward a side exit that led into the gardens.

I waited a beat.

Then I followed.

Outside, the garden was swallowed in darkness, broken only by fairy lights strung across the trees. I stayed low, moving through the hedges until I could hear them clearly.

Their voices carried from near the fountain.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Gabriel’s voice was sharp, strained with anger. “In front of everyone? Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s a party,” Camille slurred back. “I’m just having fun, Gabriel. Or am I supposed to stay locked up like some secret forever?”

“You were kissing him,” he snapped, voice lowered but still cutting. “Do you realize how that looks? You’re my assistant.”

“I’m your mistress,” she shot back bitterly. “Let’s stop pretending otherwise. And I’m done waiting in the shadows while she plays grieving wife in public.”

“Keep your voice down,” he warned, glancing around nervously.

“No,” Camille shoved him lightly. “I told you already. Choose. Divorce her, or give me a child. A real heir. Not like that… mistake she lost.”

My chest tightened.

Mistake.

She called my child a mistake.

“Camille, stop,” Gabriel said, reaching for her again.

She slapped his hand away. “If you won’t give me what I want, I’ll find someone who will. That guy at the bar didn’t seem so bad. Maybe I’ll let him take me home.”

“You won’t,” Gabriel growled.

“Try me.” She turned away.

He moved in an instant—grabbing her waist, spinning her around, and pinning her against the stone edge of the fountain.

“You’re not going anywhere with anyone else,” he said harshly. “You’re mine. Understand?”

“Then prove it,” she whispered, voice shifting into something softer, darker. “Prove I’m the only one.”

Something in him snapped.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll divorce her. I’ll handle it. Just stop looking at other men. I’ll give you what you want. A child. Now.”

Then he kissed her.

Not gentle. Not hesitant.

Hungry. Possessive. Absolute.

I stood in the shadows, phone raised, my hands shaking slightly as the red recording light blinked steadily.

After a moment, I stopped it. Saved everything to the cloud.

Then I turned away.

I walked back into the ballroom, collected my clutch, and left through the main entrance without a single goodbye—not to Gabriel, not to Arthur, not to anyone.

Outside, I hailed a taxi.

We stopped at the house first. I retrieved the suitcase I had hidden weeks ago, then went upstairs into the bedroom I no longer felt belonged to me.

On the bed, I placed a velvet-wrapped box where he would see it immediately.

Beside it, I left an envelope.

Inside were fake Italy tickets—carefully printed, perfectly believable.

Inside the box: divorce papers, my wedding ring, and proof of everything he had been hiding.

Two hours later, I stood at the airport gates with my passport in hand as the final boarding call for Zurich echoed through the terminal.

My phone rang.

Gabriel.

I stared at the screen for a moment longer than necessary before answering.

“Marielle?” His voice came fast, breathless. “Where are you? I’ve been searching everywhere—you disappeared from the party.”

“I’m leaving, Gabriel,” I said calmly.

“Leaving? What do you mean—leaving the party?”

“No,” I replied. “I’m already on my way to our trip. I left early.”

“What?” Confusion sharpened his tone. “Without me? We were supposed to go tomorrow. I didn’t even pack yet.”

“I know,” I said gently, almost sweetly. “I wanted to surprise you. Your ticket and a gift are on the bed. Everything’s arranged. Just go home, pack your things, and meet me there.”

A pause.

Then relief.

“Oh,” he exhaled. “Okay… you really scared me for a second there. Grandpa already thought something was wrong, so tell him we’re fine, alright? I don’t want him getting involved in the inheritance talk.” He laughed lightly. “I’m leaving now. I’ll grab everything and catch the next flight. See you soon, baby.”

“Alright,” I said softly. “Goodbye, Gabriel.”

“I love you,” he added.

I said nothing.

I lowered the phone slowly.

Then I walked to the nearest trash bin and dropped it inside.

The sound it made was small. Final.

Without looking back, I straightened my spine, held my passport tighter, and handed my boarding pass to the gate attendant.