Just then, the hospital room door swung open, and Matthew walked in.

When he saw I was awake, he strode quickly to my bedside.

“You’re finally awake! The doctor said you almost…”

His face looked pale, and his eyes bloodshot.

“Matthew…” My voice was hoarse.

“What am I to you?”

“What?” He frowned.

“You’re my wife. That’s a ridiculous question.”

“Your wife… in the legal sense?”

His expression changed instantly.

I showed him the photo.

“When I applied for a new passport, they asked for proof of marriage. That’s when I discovered I’d been deceived for five years.

“Sophie is your wife. And I… am nothing.”

“Ava, listen to me, I can explain—” he began.

“Explain what?” I cut him off, each word slicing like a blade.

“Explain why you staged a wedding to trick me? Explain why Sophie moved into our home? Or explain why I saw her coming out of our bedroom last night?”

He fell silent.

Just then, the door opened again and Sophie walked in with a cup of coffee.

“You’re awake. You scared me half to death!”

She was wearing my cashmere coat, the one I’d bought yesterday for three thousand dollars.

“Congratulations, Sophie,” I said bitterly.

“Congratulations for what?” She blinked her wide, innocent eyes.

“Congratulations on being the real Mrs. Spark. While I was nothing but a mistress kept in the dark.”

A smug look crossed her face before she masked it with feigned surprise. “Oh, Ava, what are you talking about? You’re the one Matthew loves.”

“Is that so?” I asked as I turned to Matthew.

“Then tell her, Matthew—who is your legal wife?”

His face turned ashen, and he said nothing.

Sophie’s eyes instantly filled with tears.

“Oh, forget it, Matthew… I know I shouldn’t have come back. I’ll leave,” she sobbed dramatically.

“Don’t go!”

Matthew grabbed her. “It’s my house. I decide who stays.”

He turned to me, his gaze cold.

“Stop this nonsense. I’ll handle the paperwork, but Sophie is Ella’s mother. She needs a place to live.”

“Ella’s mother?” I felt a sharp stab in my heart.

“So you admit that Ella is your daughter?”

He turned his head away.

“That was before you married me.”

Before I married him?

Then the memory hit me.

Five years ago, on April 14th, we had our wedding.

Ella’s birthday was April 15th.

The day after our wedding, he had vanished—because he was at the hospital with another woman, watching her give birth.

And I, the fool, had been waiting in our new home for him to return.

I pulled the IV from my hand and forced myself out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Matthew frowned.

I didn’t answer.

My legs trembled, but I still walked toward the door, one step at a time.

“Let her go, Matthew. She needs to calm down,” Sophie said quietly.

As the elevator doors closed, I caught a final glimpse of Matthew gently tucking a strand of Sophie’s hair behind her ear—exactly as he had done for me many years ago.

Leaning against the elevator wall, I took out my phone and dialed a number I had long buried in my memory.

“Hello?” David Smith’s voice came through.

“It’s me, Ava.”

There was a brief silence. “You finally remembered me?”

“David,” I closed my eyes. “You once said our engagement would always stand. Does that still count?”

“It counts. It will always count,” He replied immediately.

“Three days from now. 9 am. City Hall.”

“I’ll be there.”

I hung up and opened my eyes.

Three days. That was all I needed to bury this ridiculous past with my own hands.

On my phone, I still had a countdown app I’d downloaded five years ago to mark my so-called wedding anniversary.

I reset it to seventy-two hours.

That was my deadline. In seventy-two hours, I would say goodbye to this false life—forever.

By the time I stumbled back to the house, it was already midnight.

This was the home I had designed with my own hands, every corner built with my sweat and devotion.

Yet now, it felt like a lavish tomb, burying five years of my youth.

The master bedroom glowed with a warm golden light.

Matthew wasn’t there, but his phone sat charging on the nightstand.

The screen suddenly lit up with a WhatsApp message.

Out of habit, I opened it.

Matthew had never set a password—he used to say there should be no secrets between husband and wife.

Looking back, the irony was almost laughable.

The message was from Sophie: [Miss me, baby?]

Attached was a steamy bathroom selfie, blurred by mist.

She was completely naked.

My stomach lurched.

“What are you looking at?”

I looked up.

Sophie leaned casually against the doorframe, wrapped in my bath towel.

She strolled in and sat on the edge of the bed—on my side.

“You know,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness, “this bed… we were on it last night…”

She let the words hang, her eyes taunting me.

I ignored her and scrolled through Matthew’s phone.

There was an encrypted album labeled Ella.

I tried her birthday—0415—and it opened.

Every photo was of Ella, from her first moments to now, each one captured with care.

The earliest was time-stamped April 15th, five years ago, in the early morning.

In it, Matthew held a newborn in his arms, his face glowing with pride and tenderness.

April 15th—the day after our wedding.

That morning, I had woken up alone.

He’d told me there was an urgent matter at work.

I had believed him, so much so that I made breakfast and waited for him to return.

In truth, he’d been in a delivery room with another woman.

I kept scrolling until I found a video.

Matthew held Ella, his voice melting with affection.

“You’re Daddy’s little princess… Daddy will always love you.”

Sophie’s weak voice came from behind the camera, “Thank you for being here, Matthew.”

“Of course,” he had said as he kissed the baby’s forehead.

“You gave me a daughter. I’ll always be here for you. Thank you, Sophie.”

My hands trembled.

“See?” Sophie leaned in, her chin resting on my shoulder, her breath brushing my ear.

“Ella looks just like Matthew—especially those eyes. It’s like they were carved from the same mold.”

She pulled out her phone.

“Since you’ve already seen that, why not see these too?”

She opened a video.

The camera shook, but the scene was unmistakable—two bodies tangled together. Matthew pressed over Sophie, his movements fierce, her moans sharp and grating.

“This was the night before last,” she said, licking her lips.

“While you were in the hospital, Matthew told me he missed me.”

She swiped to a photo.

Matthew, shirtless on a hotel bed, Sophie draped across his chest. Both of them looked utterly satisfied.

“This was this afternoon,” she continued.

“He told you he had a meeting. He came to me.” She leaned close enough for me to smell her perfume.

“He said you were boring. Like a dead fish.”

One picture after another. One video after another.

Five years—and they’d never stopped. And I, fool that I was, had only just learned the truth.

“Well?” Sophie tilted her head as she savored my expression.

“You were just a stand-in. Matthew needed the perfect wife for appearances. But I am his true love.”

I set Matthew’s phone down and pulled out my own.

I dialed the number I had already called once in the elevator, but I needed to hear it again.

“Changed your mind?” David asked. He sounded slightly tense.

“No.” My eyes stayed locked on Sophie.

“I just wanted to confirm—three days from now, you’ll be waiting for me at City Hall, right?”

“Ava,” his tone sharpened into certainty, “I’ve waited five years for you. I meant every word. I swear it.”

I ended the call and stood up.

Sophie blinked, caught off guard.

“Who were you speaking to? David? The Wall Street prince?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

I walked into the dressing room and began packing a few important documents and a change of clothes.

I left behind every luxury item Matthew had ever bought me. I wanted none of them.

“Ava!” Sophie hurried after me.

“Are you out of your mind? You’re going to David's? Do you really think he’ll want you? You’re damaged goods!”

Damaged goods.

I stopped and turned to face her.

“You’re right, Sophie. I am damaged.

“But you? You don’t even count as merchandise—you’re just some loose woman Matthew keeps on the side.”

“You—!” She raised her hand to slap me.

I caught her wrist.

“Don’t forget—this is my home. One word from me, and Matthew will throw you out.”

“He won’t.” She smirked.

“He can’t bear to.”

“You’re right—he can’t.” I released her wrist.

“Which is why I’m going to give him a very special gift.”

The door opened, and Matthew walked in.

As he watched me pack, he casually asked, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Just organizing,” I said without stopping.

“Need help?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

My voice was calm, as if nothing had happened.

“By the way, weren’t you planning a welcome party for Ella?”

“Yes. I was thinking of the day after tomorrow. What do you think?”

The day after tomorrow. Exactly seventy-two hours away.

“Perfect,” I said, glancing at him.

“Let me organize it. I’ll make sure it’s a welcome party you’ll never forget.”

He hesitated.

“That’s great. Ella will be so happy…”

Sophie had clung to his arm.

“I’m tired.”

His attention shifted instantly, so I walked into the guest room and locked the door.

At 2:00 am, I called the party planner, Kathleen Grant.

I knew it was rude to call at such an hour, but I didn’t care.

“Kathleen, this is Ava Vanguard.”

“Ms. Vanguard? It’s very late. Is everything all right?” Kathleen asked, a note of concern in her voice.

“I need to host a welcome party. The day after tomorrow. Unlimited budget.”

“No problem!” Kathleen was instantly alert.

“Any special requests?”

“Yes. I want a backdrop—three meters by five. I’ll send you the photo shortly.”

“Consider it done.”

I hung up and sent Kathleen the photo Sophie had shown me earlier of Matthew and Sophie tangled together on the bed.

At 3:00 am, my father called.

“Ava, what happened?”

Hearing his voice, my tears finally broke. “Dad…”

“Where are you, Ava? I’ll come get you.”

“I’m fine.” I wiped my face. “I need a favor, Dad.”

“Anything.”

“Withdraw everything we’ve invested in Spark Enterprise.”

He was silent for a while.

“All right. First thing in the morning.”

“Dad…?” My voice caught. “I’m sorry.”

“Silly girl, what’s there to be sorry for?” His voice trembled.

“Come home. We’re waiting for you.”

I ended the call and walked to the window.

In the yard, the rose garden shimmered a deep red under the moonlight.

Matthew had planted it himself on our wedding day.

He had said that the roses represented his everlasting and passionate love for me.

I let out a cold laugh.

Tomorrow, I would burn it to the ground—just as he had reduced my life to ashes.