“Crosby… I’m so tired. Being married to Jagger… It’s exhausting. I just want to leave him. I want to leave Lancaster.”

Charlene Rosenthal stared at the newest batch of photos the paparazzi had sent her, her fingers trembling as she dialed her best friend.

Before she could even hear a hello, another call cut in—an unknown number.

Her gut tightened. This wasn’t going to be good. Still, against her better judgment, she picked up.

“Skyline Gateway Airport. 4:10 p.m. Trust me—you’ll want to be there.”

The next second, she heard a click; the line went dead.

Charlene let out a dry, bitter laugh. She looked around at the photos scattered all over the floor—picture after picture of Jagger Sulzberger tangled up with other women, some too close, some too intimate. At this point, she honestly didn’t know what could still surprise her.

“Miss Charlene, Ma’am Delores invites you to the family estate for dinner.”

That voice—Cressida Hayden. The maid. The only thing Jagger had actually left behind in this cold, empty villa. One of his many flings, conveniently placed under the same roof.

There was a trace of smugness in her tone that made Charlene want to laugh. ‘A maid, thinking she was one good night away from becoming Cinderella!’

But unlike Jagger’s glamorous women parading around on social media, Cressida was just someone he toyed with when he was too lazy to go out.

Charlene knew Cressida resented her. Her existence alone meant Jagger rarely came home, and Cressida had barely seen him more than twice.

“Here. You’ll enjoy this,” Charlene said flatly, shoving the envelope of photos into Cressida’s hands.

Over forty pictures. A handful of them showed Cressida herself wrapped around Jagger.

She flipped through them, her eyes widening—other women were dressed to the nines, perfectly styled, perfectly made up—and there she was, in her plain maid’s uniform. Her face turned red with embarrassment and rage.

“This is a violation of my privacy!” she shrieked, storming after Charlene, ripping the photos into shreds as she went.

Charlene didn’t look back. She simply watched the maid unravel with quiet detachment, like someone watching a child throw a tantrum over a broken toy.

“You’re fired.”

At that, Cressida let out a cold, sharp laugh. “You don’t even know how to keep your husband, yet you think it’s my fault?

“If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t even come back home! I’ll tell him you fired me! He won’t just let it go. You think you have power, but I’m the one he—”

“Then go tell him,” Charlene interrupted. “Go chase him down if you think you mean that much. But if you really had a place in his life, you’d be flaunting his credit card like the rest of them—dripping in diamonds, posting selfies from five-star hotels. Not here. Not cleaning up after me.”

She stepped closer.

“You know this better than I do: if you had even a sliver of value in his world, you wouldn’t be pouring my tea. So instead of threatening me, maybe think about where you’ll end up when I’m gone.”

With that, she turned and headed upstairs.

It was rare for her to lose her temper. People had provoked her before. She always smiled politely and sent them away gracefully. Even reporters. Even when they shoved mics in her face and asked about Jagger’s affairs, she smiled and said she trusted him.

But somewhere along the way, she stopped pretending for that guy.

Somewhere along the way, Jagger had drained her dry—her patience, her pride, her love.

With a sigh, she sat at her desk, opening her laptop. She still had work to do—things to finish before she left this city for good.

She wasn’t going to walk away as someone pitiful or naive. She wasn’t just a woman lost in love. She’d prove she was capable. Sharp. Resilient.

Maybe it was the pregnancy making her hyperaware, but something about that 4:10 call clung to her.

She kept her eyes on the clock, her fingers idle over the keyboard.

When the hour hand hit three, she stood up, changed her clothes, and told the driver to head to the airport.

At exactly 4:10 p.m, she saw him through the car window first—Jagger, holding a tall, slim woman close as they walked toward a luxury car.

He was smiling. Gentle. Attentive. Like he actually cared.

And for a moment, her heart stopped.

Then she pulled herself back. ‘Just another one,’ she told herself. ‘Another affair. Another woman.’

Even if she didn’t love him anymore, six years together didn’t just disappear overnight.

But all she had left now was the empty title of being his wife.

As they got closer, she saw the woman’s face—and everything inside her cracked.

The quiet excuses she’d been clinging to—the rationalizations, the numb acceptance—were torn to shreds.

She dialed.

“Jagger. Mom wants us to come back for dinner.”

Her hand trembled, but her eyes never left the couple.

Jagger stopped. The woman beside him looked up, curious.

“I told you—I’m busy, alright?! Jeez, there are ten freaking maids at the villa. Can’t one of them keep you company?!”

And with that, he hung up.

He didn’t know his wife was right there...

Watching as he wrapped his arm tighter around his first love—got into the car with her—and disappeared.

Watching her husband and his first love disappear down the road, Charlene instructed the driver to follow them.

She wanted to make a scene—to snatch back her husband.

But the driver hesitated. “Miss Charlene, it’s getting late. Ma’am Delores and the others are waiting for you back at the estate.”

Of course, he’d seen it too—Jagger walking off with the woman everyone knew had once been the love of his life.

Everyone in Lancaster knew the story. Jagger, only son of the Sulzbergers, had dated that woman all through college—four years. Then, under pressure from his mother, the relationship was cut off, and he married someone else instead. It was a rushed wedding to the heiress of the Rosenthals in San Francisco.

People loved to whisper that the one who wasn’t loved was the real homewrecker. If she chased after him now, she’d only become more of a joke than she already was.

If she didn’t acknowledge it, then it wouldn’t be the truth.

Instead, she laid a hand on her small but undeniable baby bump, let out a long breath, and told the driver to take her back to the Sulzbergers family estate.

As soon as she stepped out of the car, Delores, Jagger’s mother, came rushing toward her. The old woman’s voice was warm, asking how her daughter-in-law was.

Inside, it was Peggy, Jagger’s grandmother, who lit up the room, almost giddy to see Charlene.

The three women sat together, chatting warmly. But Charlene knew the truth. They were all waiting for the same thing: Jagger’s arrival.

When the clock struck eight, Delores couldn’t sit still any longer. She excused herself, saying, “I’ll just check if dinner’s ready.” But instead, she went straight to the hallway to make the tenth call to her son.

“Mom?”

“Jagger! You said you were on your way. Where the hell are you? Charlene’s pregnant and hasn’t eaten a bite! If you have even a shred of decency, get your ass over here!”

On the other end, he sounded bored. “I’m busy. I’m at work. I didn’t tell you to wait for me.”

“You keep saying you’re busy! What, you think the company’s going to collapse if you take a break to eat dinner? You stubborn child!”

Though Delores kept her voice low, her anger was impossible to hide.

Charlene knew exactly what Jagger was doing. He wasn’t at the office. He was still with his other woman.

“Just tell him I’m dying!” Peggy shouted, loud enough that the phone didn’t need a speaker. “I want to see him one last time before I go!”

Even without being relayed, Jagger must have heard it loud and clear.

There were two seconds of silence… until the line went dead.

Charlene gave a small smile. “Grandma, you’ll live a long, healthy life. Don’t worry.”

She said it gently, but the truth stung. She had no one in this city. No friends. No family. That rushed wedding made her the butt of every joke in both Lancaster and San Francisco.

Rumors had it that she was a gold digger and a third party who “slept her way into the Sulzbergers.”

Only these two women, who—despite everything—treated her with kindness.

She endured the daily humiliations of being Jagger’s wife thanks to her unwavering love for him and the heartfelt kindness of two older women.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m still strong as a horse. Let’s eat. No need to wait for him,” Peggy said as Delores helped her to the dining table.

Halfway through dinner, Jagger walked in, the cold clinging to his coat. Still, it was the chill in his presence—not the winter air—that froze the room.

“She seems perfectly fine to me,” he muttered, eyes scanning Charlene with a scorn so sharp she flinched.

It wasn’t just contempt. It was cruelty. Nothing like the warm smile he’d given that other woman earlier.

For a while, Charlene had believed time would soften him. That love could grow, could be earned. But she was wrong.

The gentleness she saw he was capable of? That was never hers to receive. It had always belonged to his first love.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Peggy slammed her knife down, making a loud clunk.

Jagger didn’t blink. “Grandma, you look perfectly fine. I’ve seen you now. I’m leaving.”

He turned, already heading for the door.

“If you walk out now, you’re no son of mine anymore!”

His mother’s voice cracked as she stood, the force of her words tipping her chair over.

That got his attention. He paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Happy now?” he said, eyes locking on Charlene like she was the one who’d lit the fire.

Of course. It was her fault, somehow. She wasn’t just the one who got between him and his “true love.” She was also the one who turned his family against him.

“You call yourself a man?” his mother snapped. “Blaming everything on her so you don’t have to own your own mess? Coward. I can’t believe I raised a goddamn coward!”

It was the first time she’d exploded like this in front of everyone. But no one looked surprised. They all knew. His old flame was back. They just didn’t dare say it out loud.

“Calm down, Mom,” Charlene said quickly, trying to ease the tension. She stood, helping her mother-in-law right the chair.

“Jagger… stay. Eat something.”

“Oh, don’t bother pretending to care,” he replied. Although reluctant, he still sat with the three women.

Throughout the dinner, Charlene chewed her food like it was ash.

She’d made her decision already—to leave, to end it—but seeing him being a gentleman to another woman, she felt a fresh wave of nausea.

Charlene had been bullied in school. That woman had made her life hell. And now Jagger called her the love of his life.

Later, when dinner was over, his mother asked him to stay the night. To go home—to their home.

He didn’t answer. He just walked out, not even glancing back.

“Sweetheart, maybe stay here for a while,” Delores said gently. “You’re pregnant, but your husband’s not taking care of you. You shouldn’t be alone.”

But since she had already decided to leave, it was best to cut ties with that family and Lancaster as soon as possible.

But she shook her head. “Thank you, Mom. I just signed a new contract, the company needs me, and I’ve gotten used to living on my own. I’ll be alright.”

In the end, she too used “work” as a cover—to deceive both herself and others.

She hated him. She hated how easily he lied.

She hated herself for being that hopelessly naive—for buying into the lie that his feelings for his first love were just a phase.

Charlene loved him for six years like a fool.

But now she knew better.

He never loved her, and that made leaving the easiest thing in the world.

Back at the villa, darkness and cold air greeted Charlene.

She stared at the matching pillows on the couch and the carefully arranged dinnerware in pairs inside the cabinet. It reminded her of the couple she saw at the airport earlier—in love.

The day she got married to Jagger… That was the only time he stepped into their home as a couple.

Charlene had chosen every single item in this space. Every matching set was her idea, thinking it would be the beginning of a sweet life together.

But on that very night—her husband slept with their housemaid!

Her fists clenched. She stared at the small room in the corner where it happened…

On their wedding night!

In the house she’d decorated with her own hands!

While she was still dreaming of a happy future, the two of them were tangled up in betrayal just a few steps away!

Furious, Charlene stormed into the maid’s room, tore the bedsheets off the mattress, and without even putting on a coat, stormed out in her slippers and dumped everything in the trash outside.

As if that could fix her marriage…

Jagger would just find someone else—his secretary, an intern, or worse, his so-called first love. He was always fooling around.

Charlene stared at the villa she’d once hoped would be a home, and thought back to the second time Jagger ever crossed its threshold.

It was half a year after their wedding—when she was pregnant for the first time and felt unwell.

Delores had demanded he come home to his wife. But all Charlene got in return was his cold voice.

“I’m not a doctor. What help can I possibly offer the baby in Charlene’s belly?”

Perhaps it was the pregnancy, but she had grown more sensitive, and his words crushed her. It smashed her dignity to pieces like a hammer.

His mother had screamed at him. “You are the father! That baby is yours too!” But Jagger just stood there in silence.

The shame in his mother’s eyes when she turned to Charlene said everything. Delores taught Jagger how to succeed, how to win, but never how to be a man—never how to be a husband.

Everyone told her to understand. To wait. That he’d come around.

She cried into her mother-in-law’s arms that night.

Deep down, Charlene knew the truth—Jagger knew how to be a husband, just not to her.

That was why he didn’t want to be the father of her baby.

But he didn’t, even if he came home that night.

Charlene was puking from morning sickness while he was screwing the maid upstairs.

Now, as Charene looked up at the single light glowing on the second floor, a familiar wave of helplessness washed over her.

Pregnancy made her tired all the time.

But even as exhaustion pulled at her body, her mind was full of Jagger and the woman from his past, looking into each other’s eyes… perfectly in love.

But for the baby’s sake, she crawled into bed to rest.

She just wanted to sleep. But when she closed her eyes, all she saw was her husband’s affair, again and again.

Charlene and Jagger had been in the same year at university.

She was top of her class; he was a prodigy in finance.

She was the campus beauty; he was the wild rich boy every girl admired.

Everyone thought they were perfect for each other—like something out of a novel.

But in the love story everyone rooted for, Charlene was never the heroine.

She was just the pitiful supporting role… because Jagger had already loved someone else for four long years.

Crystal Millsaps—the innocent, sweet woman Jagger had protected.

Back then, everyone thought he was just playing around. Even she thought it was just a phase back then—puppy love, nothing serious.

Besides, who could tell the difference between infatuation and impulse at that age?

So she buried her own feelings and moved on.

After graduation, she returned to San Francisco and took over the family business.

She worked day and night, juggling negotiations, parties, and endless family expectations.

She barely had time to breathe—until that class reunion, two years later, when she opened her eyes in a hotel room… and Jagger was lying beside her.

Time stopped that day.

He stood in front of the mirror casually fixing his collar.

She sat there, staring like it was a dream.

She waited for someone to wake her from the dream.

But the two pink lines on the pregnancy kit proved otherwise.

But the words from Jagger’s lips? “We’ll arrange a marriage between our families.”

Four years of silent love bloomed overnight into something massive, unstoppable.

But that night planted the seed of the beginning of her biggest heartbreak.

And now, everyone whispered behind her back.

“Well, wasn’t that what she wanted? She should be grateful Jagger even agreed to marry her. What more does she want now?”

“Still, they have a baby now. It’s not like she got pregnant on her own, right? Why is it always the woman’s fault?”

“Please, everyone knows he’s always loved someone else. If she hadn’t manipulated him, would anything have even happened between them?”

“Weren’t the three of them college classmates?”

“Yeah, I heard she used to say Jagger’s first love bullied her in school.”

“Gosh, now she’s bad mouthing Crystal. Jealousy’s an ugly thing. She can’t stand seeing them happy, so she lies.”

“Dang. Classic love triangle. But you have to admit—she’s clever. Got herself a marriage and a baby. That’s some strategy.”

Charlene jolted awake, cutting off the chorus of ridicule and scorn ringing in her ears.

The darkness around her felt thick, suffocating.

Even without closing her eyes, she could see them—those mocking faces, hiding laughter behind their hands.

Her husband’s indifference was a perfect show for them to enjoy her misery.

The cruel whispers weren’t new. She’d seen them. She had heard them. She had felt their stares—equal parts contempt and fear.

It was familiar. In fact, it was so familiar she could barely feel anything now.

She lay down again. Eyes open. Sleep wouldn’t come.

Every time she blinked, those faces twisted more and more—until they morphed into Jagger and Crystal, laughing at her, taunting her.

She didn’t know when she ended up kneeling on the bed, her arms hugging herself.

But she’d lived alone in every way that mattered for years now. She knew how to keep things running—perfectly, quietly, by herself.

So what was the difference now?

They could say whatever they wanted.

But she was still his wife—by law, by name. She had done nothing wrong.

And now, she was done waiting. She was leaving. She had made up her mind.

The only thing that mattered now was taking care of herself and the baby growing inside her.

She had to be well—if not for herself, then for the baby. That way, she’d prove them all wrong.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled the blanket over her shoulders and slowly closed her eyes.