Five years into my marriage to Ethan Morgan, the famous business tycoon in the whole continent.

The entire business world knew he loved me more than anything.

He’d even registered a private Island in my name, a gesture of love and affection no one could ever think of.

However, a text from his secretary ruined everything.

She sent me a picture of her lying almost naked in his arms, her neck full of hickeys while he rested his hand leisurely on her chest.

They were making out on the very Island he had dedicated to me.

[He says his wife doesn't satisfy his real needs. Only with me can he really turn on]

[Only if he doesn't need an heir from her, she would be out of the picture already.]

At that moment I knew what I needed to do. I just made a single call.

“I need a new identity. And a divorce agreement for my husband.”

One month ago, I was the happiest person alive on the earth.

Ethan, my husband of five years, spared no limits showing his affections for me. He even insisted I stop designing dresses for elites because he just couldn't tolerate seeing me tired.

To prove his love, he even bought a private Island and named it after my name, making me the most envied woman of the city.

And all that he wanted from me was a baby just like me, an heir to his empire.

I have been trying for five years and I was pregnant.

Finally!

I wanted to disclose the news to Ethan as soon as possible.

But, my phone buzzed. The name of the buyer who had transferred a fortune to my account just to buy my limited edition dress a week ago was revealed.

Though Ethan did not like it, I continued my career with a different name.

However, the floor beneath me trembled as the name of the buyer of my dress popped up on my screen.

Ethan Morgan.

He bought the dress for a hundred million a week ago yet I had no idea about it. I never received the gift if he intended to buy it for me.

Just then my phone buzzed again. This time it was a review from a female customer wearing the same dress while lying on a beach. Next to her lay a man, half naked.

With one glance I could recognise this man. Ethan, my husband. And the woman, he spent millions for, was his secretary he told me not to worry about.

My knees gave out. I collapsed onto the plush Persian rug, the luxury of our home suddenly feeling like a cold, sterile tomb. The woman in the photo—Maya, his ‘hardworking’ secretary—was wearing the dress I had poured my soul into.

And the worst part, they were laying on the very Island he had bought for me.

The phone almost slipped off my hands. But, it didn't stop buzzing my head. I picked up with trembling hands.

It was Maya texting my official account, an identity no one knew about, not even Ethan.

I had always felt guilty for leading a secret life, hiding my passion for design from the husband who only wanted me to rest.

But, who knew it would lead me to see his true face.

[Thank you, Aris, for the dress! My boyfriend gifted me this dress and I just can't stop admiring it.] Maya wrote.

[After I wore it for him, he went crazy, almost tearing it up and making me naked. But, Thank God, he vacated the entire Island before taking me there. The perks of dating a Billionaire, you know!]

[He says his wife doesn't satisfy his real needs. Only with me can he really turn on]

[Only if he doesn't need an heir from her, she would be out of the picture already.]

A sob, jagged and raw, tore through my throat. It wasn't just a cry; it was the sound of a five-year-old fairy tale splintering into a million lethal shards.

Every "I love you," every forehead kiss, and every "Stay home and rest, my queen" was revealed for what it truly was, an illusion.

I looked at the phone screen again.

‘He almost tore it up.’

My nails pressed so deep on the screen that it cracked up.

The fact that he took her to our Island, a place that only belonged to us cut deep through my heart.

The tears I had been suppressing for a long while finally streamed down my cheeks for what felt like hours, a blur of tears and suffocating silence. But then, the buzzing stopped. The silence of the house settled around me, leaving behind a cold, crystalline clarity.

He had bought me an island to keep me isolated. He had ended my career to keep me dependent. He didn't want a wife, he wanted a gilded bird in a cage, waiting to produce a trophy.

He wanted to have his little slut with him on bed, he can have her!

He wanted a lineage, he can build it with any woman!

But, the child in my womb, the heir he always wanted, will never be his!

He thought I was a delicate designer who needed his protection. He forgot that to build a dress, you have to be an expert at cutting things away.

The first thing I did was wipe the corner of my eyes, promising myself to not waste one more drop of tear on the man who did not deserve it.

The second thing I did was dialing a number I hadn't dialed in years– my old mentor in Paris.

"It's Aris," I said, my voice hardening. "I’m coming back. Help me take a new identity, completely erasing the trace of the last one.”

"Are you done being the love-struck woman? Would your husband not mind your working anymore?" My mentor asked.

"Husband? Who? I'm divorcing Ethan Morgan!" I replied, "Please help me prepare the divorce agreement as well."

The silence on the other end was palpable. I could feel the shock in his silence. After all, I had cut ties with every known person in my life just to be with Ethan. And now, I was divorcing him.

“Have you thought this though? Taking you out under Ethan's nose will not be easy. He has his connections everywhere. I suggest you think again before you make the final decision, Aris.”

“I have decided.” I said.

“Fine,” he replied. “Give me fifteen days to arrange a new identity for you, Aris. But remember, after you leave Ethan and take the new identity, there is no turning back. You must not leave any trace for him to find you.”

Later that evening as I returned our home, the luxurious villa that Ethan had designed for me, collecting the exquisite decoration from all over the world before he gifted the house on our wedding, felt only like a cage now.

I watched our wedding photo hang on the living room. He looked happy in it, but the smile didn't seem as passionate as I saw on his face when he was lying with Maya!

I did not head up to my bedroom. Instead, I walked into his study room. The password was still our wedding date, a feign show-off his love for me.

Though I knew the password, I never entered his study room before, not wanting to disturb his peace and privacy.

Who knew I was just being an ignorant wife being blinded in love!

The mouse of his laptop felt cold and heavy in my hand, a stark contrast to the fire spreading through my chest. The desktop flared to life, the wallpaper, a candid of us laughing on our honeymoon in Santorini now felt like a cruel joke.

I didn't have to dig deep. Ethan, ever the confident predator, hadn't even bothered to hide his tracks. A minimized window sat on the taskbar, a messaging app that I had never seen him use on his phone.

I clicked it.

The screen was instantly flooded with a stream of green and grey bubbles. The contact name was simply "M," but the profile picture was unmistakable. Maya, draped in the silk robe I had bought for our anniversary, lounging on our bed while I had been away visiting my sick mother.

He didn't even spare our bedroom and stained it with his infidelity, letting her wear my clothes.

I almost threw up imagining them lying on my bed, mocking me. But, I had to keep going.

I scrolled up, my eyes stinging. My eyes fixed on their chat history.

Ethan: I can still smell your perfume on the sheets. My wife came back in an hour, but all I can think about is the way you looked under the moonlight last night.

Maya: Is she still playing the doting little housewife? Doesn't she get boring?

Ethan: She’s a ghost in this house, Maya. A necessity for the public, but a burden in private. You’re the only one who makes me feel alive.

He spoke to her with a raw, desperate hunger I hadn't felt from him in years. While I was meticulously choosing the right curtains for his study or keeping the house silence so he could "focus on work," he was busy typing out graphic descriptions of what he wanted to do to Maya in the very rooms I cleaned.

Then, I found the hidden folder. It wasn't encrypted. Why would he bother? He thought I was too ignorant to ever step foot in here.

I clicked through the photos, each one a serrated blade to my heart:

A photo from last month at a gala. I remembered that night—I had waited up until 3:00 AM with his favorite tea because he said he was stuck at a late-night board meeting.

In the photo, he was pinned against a balcony railing by Maya, his hands tangled in her hair with a ferocity he never showed me.

Then came a series of "business trip" photos. They weren't in a boardroom. They were on a private yacht. In every shot, Ethan’s eyes were wide, bright, and utterly consumed by her.

I saw timestamps that matched the nights I had called him, crying because I felt lonely. I saw his replies to me—"Busy, don't wait up"—sent minutes after he had taken a selfie of Maya kissing his neck.

I looked at the wedding photo in the hallway through the open door, then back at the screen. The Ethan on the screen was a stranger—a man capable of a deep, illicit passion that he had deliberately starved me of. I wasn't just a wife he had fallen out of love with; I was a prop he used to maintain his image of a stable, successful man.

The shock was gone now. In its place was a cold, crystalline clarity. I reached for the desk phone and dialed Dr. Smith.

"Dr. Smith, please do not tell Ethan about my pregnancy." I said.

"What?" She was surprised. "Mr Morgan is really looking for a heir, Mrs. Morgan. He has waited for five years already. Do you really not want to keep this news secret from him?"

"Give me two weeks, Dr. Smith. I'm preparing a surprise for him." I replied, my voice sharp and cold.

"Oh, I see." She replied, "Then, I won't ruin it, haha."

I hang up the call. I was planning a surprise for him indeed.

In fifteen days, I would be far away from his reach and the heir he always wanted, well, he will never be able to see him. He just didn't deserve it.

The front door clicked open at precisely 7:00 PM.

I sat in the dim light of the living room, a book open in my lap that I hadn't read a single word of.

I had moved from his study minutes ago, scrubbing the touch of his desk from my fingertips, but the images of Maya in my silk robe were seared into my retinas, so lively that the sight of our bedroom disgusted me.

"Elena? Sweetheart, why are you sitting in the dark?"

Ethan’s voice was like velvet, smooth and comforting. He walked toward me, shedding his charcoal suit jacket with a weary elegance. He looked every bit the hardworking, devoted husband. But as he leaned down to kiss my forehead, the air around him shifted.

Before, I would have breathed him in, finding safety in his scent. Now, my skin crawled. Beneath the familiar aroma of his expensive cologne and the faint smell of the office, there was something else. A floral, cloying sweetness.

Maya’s perfume!

"You look pale," he said, his thumb tracing my cheekbone with a tenderness that made me want to scream. "Are you feeling okay? Did you eat today?"

"I'm just tired, Ethan," I managed to say, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears.

"Is it about the test result?" he murmured, pulling me into a hug. "Don't worry if it's negative. We will try again."

He assumed I was sad because I couldn't conceive this time as well and comforted me like he always did. He never pressurized me.

My face was pressed against his chest, right where his heart beat—steady and calm. How could a man whose heart beat so normally be such a monster?

As he held me, my eyes locked onto his shirt collar. There, tucked almost invisibly into the seam, was a single strand of long, platinum-blonde hair.

It wasn't mine. My hair was dark, a contrast he used to claim he loved. I stared at that hair, a tiny, silver thread that tied him to his lies.

"I missed you today," he whispered into my hair. "The meetings were endless. All I wanted was to come home to my beautiful wife."

I barely controlled myself from slapping this man who lied so fluently. His chat messages were still fresh in my mind.

"The gala photos came out today," I said suddenly, testing the edge of the blade. "The one from last month. You said you were in meetings all night, but the firm posted a few candids of the board members on the balcony."

I felt his heart skip—just one beat—but his physical composure was terrifyingly perfect. He didn't pull away. He just squeezed me a little tighter.

"Did they? I must have stepped out for some air between the sessions," he said smoothly.

"You know how stifling those rooms get. I probably didn't even notice the photographers."

He pulled back, smiling that passionate smile—the one I now knew was a feign show-off.

"Maya was also present there, almost hugging you." I said, my eyes still fixed on his.

His smile faltered for a moment before he regained his composure and said, "She is my secretary. I attend all my important meetings with her. You can't trust camera angles, sweetheart. She must be whispering something to me that she couldn't speak loud."

Pulling me back into his arms, he tried to tease me, "What? Is my wife jealous?"

"Should I?" I asked while raising my eyebrows. "You are always surrounded by her. Should I be worried?"

His expression turned solemn and he looked deeply into my eyes, saying firmly, "Definitely not! No one can take the position of Mrs. Morgan except you. Is it enough to make you feel good?"

He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box.

"This is my family heirloom. I choose this day to give you because in my heart no one can replace you, Elena. You were, you are and only you will be Mrs. Morgan and give the heir to our family."

I opened it. Inside sat a diamond bracelet that was passed in Morgan family since generations, cold and glittering. A week ago, I would have been moved to tears by his thoughtfulness. Today, I saw it for what it was: hush money. A bribe to keep the ignorant wife quiet and blinded by sparkle.

"It's beautiful," I said, my voice sharp and cold as the diamonds.

"Only the best for you, Elena," he said, heading toward the stairs. "I’m going to hop in the shower. Why don't you pour us some wine? We should celebrate... us."

"Ethan..." I called him from behind, intending to test him one last time.

"Yes..." He replied.

"The next weekend, I'll be ovulating. It's also my birthday. Let's go to the place we visit at our honeymoon and try again?" I asked,

I deliberately chose this date and location to be together because I had read his plan of taking Maya to some other location and have fun.

The color from his face faded. He seemed somewhat awkward, the earlier excitement from his face fading. But soon, he smiled as he replied, "Okay, let's do whatever you wish."

I watched him walk away. As soon as he disappeared, I opened the ghost app in my phone showing his chats with Maya live on my phone's screen.

As soon as he disappeared from my sight, he quickly texted Maya.

Ethan: Plan changed! I can't take you Italy the next weekend. I have plans with Elena in Paris.

Maya: You gotta be kidding me! Are you really going to cancel our fun to be with that boring ass?

Ethan: No way! I'll book another room in a nearby hotel. I'll make some excuse to her and come to you at night. We will have fun, darling.

Maya: Oh Daddy! I almost thought I wasted a lot of money buying new panties and toys for you.

Ethan: I'm feeling turned on already! Don't forget to take your red panties. That's my favourite.

I shut the app immediately. I could not go through all those absurd chats.

I gave him one last chance to choose who was more important to him. And, he just proved who.

Now, I was done. Completely. He did not worth my tears, my child or my love. He was worth nothing.