Three years into becoming Mrs. Matteo Grant, I still sometimes said it like I was testing if it was real.

That morning, I stood in front of the mirror while sunlight spilled across the bedroom floor and whispered softly, almost like a prayer, “Happy anniversary, love… happy anniversary to us.” My hand drifted down to my stomach, resting there protectively. Barely six weeks along, so small no one would notice—but to me, it felt like my whole world had just started beating inside me.

I had been waiting for this day for weeks.

Matteo and I were never supposed to be a love story. We began as rivals—two powerful companies forced into an arranged marriage neither of us agreed to. He was sharp-edged, intimidating, always in control in a way that made people step back without realizing it.

And I… I refused to step back.

I met his arrogance head-on with my own stubborn pride. We clashed constantly—over business deals, over board decisions, even over trivial things like what we had for dinner. It should have broken us apart.

Instead, somewhere in all that chaos, I fell for him.

And I truly believed he had fallen too.

There were moments that fooled me into hoping. He’d appear beside me during late nights in the office with a cup of coffee I didn’t ask for. He’d drape his jacket over my shoulders when I fell asleep at my desk, pretending he didn’t notice how exhausted I was. Small things. Quiet things. The kind of gestures that slowly convinced me we were becoming something real.

So I planned today carefully.

His favorite dishes were already set on the dining table. I had a small gift box wrapped neatly—inside was a silver keychain engraved with the words Dad-to-be. I even lit candles I had saved since our honeymoon, thinking tonight would be the moment everything changed.

When he called and said plans had shifted, I didn’t argue.

“I’ve arranged something else,” Matteo said over the phone. His tone was calm as always—too calm, like glass hiding something dangerous beneath it.

So I changed into a cream dress, wore diamond earrings he once said suited me, and carried hope like it was something fragile I had to protect.

But the moment the car stopped in front of an unfamiliar building, that hope wavered.

It wasn’t a restaurant. Or an office. It was a private hall made of gold-tinted glass, guarded by men in black suits who didn’t even blink as we arrived.

“Matteo?” I asked quietly when he helped me out. “Where exactly are we?”

He didn’t answer. Not even a glance.

He simply guided me inside.

The lobby was alive with sound—laughter echoing off marble floors, glasses clinking, music humming softly in the background. People in tuxedos stood in clusters, women shimmering in expensive gowns, champagne flowing under crystal chandeliers.

My fingers tightened around his sleeve.

“This… is a gala?” I tried to smile. “You could’ve just told me—”

We stopped.

Right in front of a stage.

My breath caught.

Screens flashed numbers. People murmured into phones. A host stood at the center, voice lowered as if the room itself demanded secrecy.

“Lot Forty-Seven,” he announced. “A rare piece tonight.”

Confusion crept up my spine. I turned to Matteo, expecting an explanation.

But he was already looking at me.

And I didn’t recognize his eyes.

Cold. Detached. Empty in a way I had never seen before.

Then he spoke.

“She’s the lot.”

For a second, my brain refused to understand what I heard. I let out a short, shaky laugh, because surely that was the only reasonable response.

“You’re kidding, right?” I whispered. “Matteo… stop.”

He didn’t even blink.

“You’ll bring a high price,” he said flatly. “I need the money. You’ve always known your face and name could be used for value.”

My stomach dropped.

“What… are you saying?”

He turned away from me, addressing the host instead. “Begin.”

Everything happened at once.

Hands grabbed me before I could even step back. I struggled, panic rising as I was dragged forward.

“Matteo!” I screamed, voice breaking. “Stop this! Please—what are you doing?!”

But he didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

Didn’t even look at me.

The lights hit me as they pushed me onto the stage. Faces blurred in the crowd—watching, judging, as if I wasn’t a person anymore.

Just something to be priced.

“Two million starting bid,” the announcer called.

Laughter followed. Then raised bids.

“Three million.”

“Four.”

My vision blurred.

“Matteo!” I cried again, voice raw. “I’m your wife!”

Only then did he look up.

A faint curve touched his lips—not warmth, not affection… something tired, almost indifferent.

“I told you, Aria,” he said calmly. “We were never on the same side. And I need the funds. That’s all.”

It felt like something inside me split clean in half.

I begged after that. I said everything I could think of. I told them I was pregnant. I told them I would do anything—anything at all—if they would just stop.

But he turned away before I could finish.

When the final bid came through, the voice declared, “Sold.”

I don’t remember walking off that stage.

Only being dragged through corridors. Cold hands. Locked doors. A dim room that smelled like smoke and expensive alcohol. I kept repeating it like a prayer that might save me.

“I’m pregnant… please… don’t…”

No one listened.

Pain, noise, panic—it all blurred together until the door suddenly slammed open.

“Enough!”

A voice cut through everything like thunder.

Chaos erupted. Shouting. Fists hitting walls. Someone falling hard against furniture.

And then—arms caught me.

Steady. Strong. Real.

When my vision cleared, I saw him.

Vincent Wolfe.

Matteo’s rival.

“Stay with me,” he said firmly, holding me as if I might disappear. “You’re safe now.”

Safe.

The word didn’t feel real anymore.

And then everything went dark.

When I woke again, it was white ceilings, soft beeping machines, and the sharp smell of disinfectant. My body felt heavy, like it didn’t belong to me anymore.

I turned my head.

Vincent was sitting nearby, watching me in silence.

“My baby…” My voice cracked immediately. “Where is my baby?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze dropped instead.

That was enough.

A doctor came in moments later, clipboard in hand, face tight with pity that made my chest tighten even more.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Grant,” she said gently. “There was severe internal bleeding. The pregnancy couldn’t be saved.”

The room tilted.

“And…” she hesitated, softer now, “the damage is significant. It may not be possible for you to conceive in the future.”

Silence swallowed everything.

It felt like something was being pulled out of me—something I could never get back.

Tears slid silently into my hair as I stared at the ceiling, completely hollowed out.

Vincent stood up, his voice low but sharp. “He’s going to regret this.”

A laugh escaped me—but it sounded broken, wrong.

“He already destroyed everything.”

Vincent stepped closer. “Then don’t stay broken. Take it back.”

I turned my head slowly, eyes burning. “Why would you help me?”

His answer came without hesitation.

“Because I want him to fall too.”

For a long time, I just looked at him.

A stranger who pulled me out of ruin.

A man offering revenge instead of comfort.

Something inside me shifted—quietly, dangerously.

So when he finally said, “Marry me, Aria,” I didn’t think twice.

Because if I was already in hell,

I’d rather walk through it burning beside him—

than ever forgive Matteo Grant.

I stayed in the hospital for another day after that. My body was still drained, every movement feeling heavier than it should’ve been, but it wasn’t the physical pain that bothered me most—it was the quiet. The kind that makes you think too much.

I kept telling myself Matteo would come. Maybe not to apologize, but at least to check if I was still breathing properly after everything.

But when the door finally opened, hope died immediately.

The first words out of his mouth were sharp and careless.

“So you really bailed on the client?” he said, like he was annoyed about a missed appointment. “Seriously, Aria? I sold you for that deal. All you had to do was play along so I could close it.”

I went still.

My throat tightened. “You… sold me?” I repeated slowly, as if saying it differently would make it less real. “Have you lost your mind?”

He didn’t even look ashamed. Not even a little.

“I needed the money,” he answered flatly. “And I’m your husband. That means I can use whatever I have to. You just messed it up.”

My hands curled into fists under the blanket.

“So instead of asking me,” I shot back, voice rising, “you decided to hand me over like I’m nothing? They hurt me, Matteo. They—”

He cut me off without even blinking.

“I need more than what you’re giving me, Aria. And don’t act innocent. You’ve been hiding things from me. You think I don’t know you’ve been pulling clients away?”

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“I didn’t steal anything from you,” I said firmly. “If they choose to work with me, that’s not my fault. Maybe your company just isn’t good enough.”

His jaw tightened, and then he scoffed.

“Or maybe,” he said slowly, “you’ve been using other methods to get them on your side.”

I stared at him, disgust rising in my chest.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” His eyes darkened. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the man who pulled you out of that mess. Who is he to you? Huh? Some lover hiding in the shadows?”

My voice spiked.

“There is no one!” I snapped. “I don’t have anyone! Or maybe you’re the one cheating and now you’re trying to pin this on me!”

That was when it happened.

A sudden crack filled the room.

My head snapped to the side as his hand struck my face. Pain bloomed instantly, sharp and hot. I tasted metal on my lip.

“This is your fault,” he said coldly, like nothing had just happened. “Because of you, I lost that deal. So fix it. Go back there if you have to. Smile, flirt—whatever it takes. And if not, you’ll hand over everything your company owns.”

My ears rang, but I forced myself to speak through the shaking in my voice.

“You’d really say that to me?” I whispered. “After everything? I lost our baby, Matteo. I can’t even— I can’t get pregnant anymore.”

For the first time, he looked at me properly.

No emotion. No hesitation. Nothing.

“So what?” he said coldly. “It’s just a baby. It’s not like I ever cared about having one with you anyway.”

My breath caught.

It felt like the world stopped for a second—like even the air forgot how to move.

Before I could respond, he already turned around and walked out.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And that silence… that was the moment I broke.

My hands shook as I covered my face, and everything I had been holding in finally spilled out. Not quiet tears—real, ugly crying that came from somewhere deep I couldn’t control.

Because it wasn’t just pain anymore.

It was understanding.

The man I loved… wasn’t coming back.

Or maybe he had never been there at all.

And then, without warning, the memories came rushing in.

Back to the beginning.

When Matteo and I weren’t lovers, weren’t even close—just two people forced into a marriage built on competition and resentment.

We fought like it was second nature.

Deadlines, clients, proposals, even stupid things like office layouts—nothing was ever peaceful between us.

“You really think you’re better than me just because your father handed you half the company?” he once snapped during a meeting, voice cutting through the room.

I didn’t even hesitate.

“At least I didn’t get mine handed over on a silver plate,” I fired back. “You’re just scared I’ll actually outperform you.”

His chair scraped loudly as he stood.

“You’re impossible,” he growled.

“And you’re arrogant,” I shot back just as fast.

That was us back then—constant fire, no space for softness. Sometimes he’d grab my wrist when I tried to walk away. Sometimes I’d shove him right back. We didn’t know how to exist without clashing.

We were chaos pretending to be married.

But then, little by little, things shifted.

The shouting didn’t stop—but it softened.

He started appearing in my office without reason, placing coffee beside my documents like it was normal. He’d sit in on meetings he didn’t need to attend. He’d ask questions he didn’t used to care about.

One night, I remember him setting a bowl of soup beside my laptop.

“You’re going to get sick if you keep skipping meals,” he said casually.

I looked up at him, surprised.

“Since when did you start worrying about me?” I asked, half teasing.

He just shrugged like it was nothing. “You’re my wife. It’s my responsibility.”

And weirdly… that made me smile.

For the first time, I thought maybe we were changing. Maybe this wasn’t just an arrangement anymore.

Maybe we were becoming something real.

He became gentler after that. He started remembering dates. He kissed me goodnight like it was normal. He looked at me like I mattered.

And I believed it.

I fell completely.

But now, lying in that hospital bed, everything made sense in the cruelest way possible.

It was never love.

It was control.

A performance I was too stupid to question.

I wiped my face roughly, grabbed my phone, and forced my breathing to steady.

When my lawyer picked up, my voice didn’t shake.

“Mr. Wells,” I said quietly, “prepare my divorce papers.”

There was a pause on the other line.

“Mrs. Grant… that won’t be easy,” he said carefully.

“Why not?” I asked sharply.

“Your families are bound by multiple agreements. Your father and Mr. Grant’s father would need to approve it. This could collapse the entire alliance—”

“I don’t care,” I cut in immediately. “Just prepare it.”

Another hesitation.

“Even if I draft it,” he continued, “you’ll still need your father’s approval. Without it, this won’t move forward legally—”

“I’ll handle my father,” I said coldly. “Just do your part.”

“…Understood, Mrs. Grant.”

“One more thing,” I added after a pause. “Redirect every investor and partner we can reach. Move them under my company. I don’t want Matteo left with anything.”

By the time I left the hospital, I went alone.

The ride home was quiet, but my mind wasn’t.

And when I stepped into the hallway of the house, I froze.

Voices.

Low, intimate… and unmistakably his.

Matteo.

And a woman.

My stomach turned as I followed the sound, every step heavier than the last. I didn’t even think—I just pushed the door open.

What I saw made everything inside me go still.

He didn’t even pretend to stop.

No panic. No guilt.

Just a brief glance in my direction before continuing like I wasn’t even there.

Like I didn’t matter at all.

My nails dug into my palms as I forced myself to breathe.

Then I spoke—calm, controlled, and completely done.

“We’re getting a divorce,” I said evenly. “I’m finished. With you. With this marriage. With every lie you’ve ever told me.”

“Let’s end this marriage. I want a divorce,” I said, my tone steady, almost frighteningly calm. “I’m finished with your lies, your betrayal… everything you’ve put me through.”

He let out a laugh—low, empty, without warmth. “Divorce?” he repeated as if I’d said something ridiculous. “That’s never happening. I’m not letting you go, Aria. I’ll make sure you suffer instead. Just watch.”

Then, as if I were already irrelevant, he turned back to the woman beside him, his hand sliding over her like I wasn’t even there. “I’ll be with someone else then,” he added loudly, deliberately, making sure every word cut through me.

My stomach twisted. “So this is it?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady. “You’re destroying our marriage over a business deal you lost? This is your revenge?”

His eyes snapped to mine—cold, sharp, unfeeling. “No,” he said flatly. “This is because you’ve been unfaithful.” His voice dropped lower, edged with something dangerous. “And if I ever find the man who took you that night… I’ll make sure he disappears.”

And just like that, he went back to her as if nothing important had been said.

I stood there, stunned, watching him act like I was nothing more than background noise. And that night didn’t end there.

It became a pattern.

New women every night. Different faces, different laughter, different perfume lingering through the hallways like a mark he wanted me to see. He didn’t even try to hide it. It was deliberate—doors left slightly open, voices echoing just loud enough for me to hear.

One evening, while I was folding laundry on the bed, he casually tossed a small box toward me.

It slid across the sheets. Condoms.

“Get a bigger pack next time,” he said without even looking up. “And don’t forget extras. These things don’t last long.”

I stared at him, disbelief turning into anger, then picked it up and threw it straight back. It hit his chest.

“Grow up,” I said sharply.

He only shrugged like I was overreacting. “If you refuse to deal with it, then fine,” he replied. “But make sure the girls get paid tonight. Accounting needs everything documented.”

My hands curled into fists. “So now I’m supposed to fund your affairs?”

“You’re my wife,” he said casually, almost bored. “Handle it. That’s what you do.”

That was the moment something inside me stopped breaking… and started hardening.

I picked up the packet, shoved it into my bag, and went to work the next day like nothing had happened. I signed the transfer papers he pushed in front of me without even reading them. My signature stayed steady.

Because I learned quickly—I couldn’t fight him yet.

Not openly.

So I played the role he wanted. I managed his mess, paid for his nights, smiled when I had to. All the while, I collected everything I could—documents, investor connections, leverage. Let him think I was obedient. Let him think I was still his.

But inside, I was already planning my exit.

I was going to leave.

And I was going to take everything he depended on with me.

When I told my father, I expected anger or at least understanding. Instead, his expression turned cold, almost disappointed.

“It’s your responsibility to keep your husband in line,” he said sharply. “Divorce is out of the question. Not now. The alliance matters too much.”

My chest tightened. “You want me to stay with him after everything he’s done? He literally sold me—”

“You know what’s at stake,” he interrupted. “Sometimes you don’t get to choose what’s right for you.”

I left before I broke down completely.

The only place I could go was Bianca’s house.

She opened the door without hesitation and pulled me inside the moment she saw my face. No questions. Just silence and her arms around me until my shaking slowed.

“Bianca…” My voice cracked before I could finish.

She guided me to the couch. Mason, her little boy, clung to her skirt before walking over and placing his tiny hand on my knee.

“Auntie Aria?” he asked softly.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” I lied, even though my voice betrayed me.

Bianca had been with me through everything—college nights, arguments with my father, even the early days of my marriage when I still thought Matteo and I could fix things. Over time, she became more like family than a friend. I loved Mason like my own child, especially after his father left them behind.

She gently wiped my tears. “Tell me what happened.”

So I did.

And she listened. Quiet. Focused. Calm.

But sometimes the people closest to you are the ones you trust the most.

One day, I left work early. I wanted to surprise her, maybe stay over like we used to. Her door wasn’t locked, so I walked in quietly, expecting nothing more than a normal afternoon.

Then I heard voices.

I stopped.

Bianca’s voice came first—uneasy, tense. “You should leave before she gets here. If you stay, we’ll get caught. I’m tired of hiding, Matteo… of hiding Mason. When are you actually going to make this official?”

My blood ran cold.

Then Matteo answered, calm as ever. “Soon. I just need a little more time. You know how important this is. Once everything is settled, I’ll take care of it. You and Mason will finally have my name… and I’ll get rid of her and her father.”

A pause.

Then Bianca again, frustrated. “You’ve been saying that forever. I can’t keep living like this. Mason needs stability—he needs a father.”

He gave a soft laugh. “Patience,” he said. “She’ll figure it out eventually. After that, we won’t need to hide anymore.”

Her voice turned sharper. “She’s so blind… she has no idea we’ve been doing this behind her back all this time.”

Everything in me went still.

Every memory. Every laugh. Every comfort she gave me. Every moment I trusted her.

It was all staged.

I didn’t wait to hear more.

I left without a sound, got into my car, and just drove.

I ended up at the pier.

The same place Matteo once told me we’d build our future.

The wind was cold, biting. The sea restless.

I removed my ring slowly, staring at it like it belonged to someone else’s life. My hand shook—but I didn’t stop.

Then I threw it.

It disappeared into the waves without a trace.

Gone.

Like everything it used to mean.

I pulled out my phone, fingers still trembling but my decision already made.

“Vincent,” I said quietly when he answered. “Come get me. Let’s get married.”

The wind hit my face harder that time.

But for the first time in a long while…

I felt like I could finally breathe.