“Yes. Send the divorce papers by email.”

I spoke softly into the phone, my back turned to the door as I stared out at the city lights from our bedroom window. My chest felt tight, each heartbeat loud and uneven in my ears.

After ending the call, I slowly turned around.

Marcus was there.

My grip on the phone nearly slipped. He stood in the doorway, still dressed in his office suit, his face drained of color, eyes wide with something close to panic—something I had never seen from him before. He had heard everything.

“Divorce?” he repeated hoarsely. The word felt heavy in the air between us. He stepped forward, his hands unsteady. “Nora… what are you talking about? Divorce?”

My stomach dropped. If he found out, if he realized I was leaving him, everything would collapse. He would trap me again. He would drug me again if he had to.

So I laughed.

Light. Effortless. A sound that didn’t match the fear clawing at my throat.

“Oh, Marcus, you scared me,” I said, walking toward him as I slipped my phone into my pocket like nothing had happened. “It’s not what you think. It’s Megan.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Megan?”

“Yeah. My college friend,” I continued smoothly. “She called me crying. Found out her husband’s cheating on her. Can you imagine? After everything she did for him.” I shook my head as if disgusted. “So I told her to file for divorce right away. I even said I’d help her talk to Simon—you know him, right? My lawyer friend.”

The tension in his body loosened instantly. His shoulders dropped, and he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding too long.

“Oh… thank God,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. Then he pulled me into his arms, tight enough to hurt. He buried his face against my neck like he needed to feel I was still there. “I thought… I thought you meant us. I thought you were leaving me.”

His hold didn’t loosen.

It never really did.

“You scared me, Nora,” he whispered. “Don’t ever say that word again in this house.”

I stayed still for a moment, then slowly patted his back like I used to.

“Why would I ever leave you?” I said softly, tilting my head up to meet his eyes. “Unless… you cheated on me?”

For a split second, his expression changed. Just a flicker. Something unreadable passed through his eyes before he smoothed it away.

“Of course not,” he said quickly, almost offended. His hands came up to cup my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks like I was something precious. “I would never do that to you. You’re everything to me, Nora. Everything. How could you even think that?”

“Good,” I whispered, calm but edged with something sharp underneath. “Because I could never forgive betrayal. Not that kind.”

“You’ll never have to,” he said, kissing my forehead. “I’d never hurt you.”

Then he smiled—warm, charming, the same smile that once made me believe him.

“Forget this,” he added, brushing it off. “Tomorrow is our anniversary. Let’s go out tonight instead. There’s a charity auction at the gallery. I’ll get you something beautiful. Anything you want.”

I nodded gently. “Alright. Let’s go.”

---

The auction was all polished elegance and quiet power—black suits, glittering gowns, champagne under crystal lights. Cameras followed us like we were part of the exhibition itself. The perfect couple. The golden pair everyone admired.

Marcus kept my hand in his the entire time, guiding me through the crowd like I was something to display.

I stopped at the catalog and pointed lightly. “This one.”

Item 45. A sapphire necklace. Deep blue, elegant, almost haunting in its beauty.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

“You want it?” he asked immediately, tightening his hold on my hand. “It’s yours.”

But once the bidding started, it spiraled out of control. Numbers climbed fast, voices rising, until it became a war of wealth. Marcus tried a few bids, but then a phone bidder pushed it far beyond reason.

“Going once… going twice… sold to the bidder on the phone.”

Something in me sank.

“It’s fine,” I said quietly, forcing a small smile. “It was too expensive anyway.”

But Marcus suddenly stood.

He walked up onto the stage, took the microphone, and the entire hall went silent.

“I may have lost that necklace,” he said smoothly, voice carrying confidence and charm, “but I won’t let my wife leave here empty-handed. I’m buying the rest of the pieces in this collection—for her. Because nothing is ever too much for Nora.”

The room erupted. Applause, admiration, envy.

A woman beside me leaned in. “He really adores you. You’re so lucky.”

I smiled faintly and gave a small wave, like I belonged in the picture they all believed in.

---

That night, the house fell into silence again.

Or so I thought.

I went to the kitchen for water, taking a sealed bottle I always kept hidden, when voices drifted from the study.

“You didn’t even bring me,” Cassie snapped. “I had to watch everything online like I didn’t matter. And that speech—‘nothing is too good for Nora’? Seriously?”

I moved closer, pressing my ear against the door.

“Everyone’s talking about you,” she went on bitterly. “You’re practically trending. ‘Husband of the year,’ they’re calling you. It’s ridiculous.”

“Relax,” Marcus’s voice came, calm and low. “It’s part of the image. I have to keep her happy. She can’t suspect anything.”

“Well, I’m not happy,” Cassie shot back.

“I got you something,” he said after a pause.

A rustle. A soft click. A box opening.

Cassie gasped. “The sapphire necklace…”

“You were the bidder?” she asked, breathless.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “She wanted it, but it belongs to you. It suits you more anyway. Blue looks better on your skin.”

My stomach twisted violently.

He hadn’t lost it.

He had stolen it twice—once from me, then from everyone else—just to hand it to her in secret.

“Marcus…” Cassie whispered, softer now. “Do you love me?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “You know I do.”

“Then divorce her,” she said immediately. “I’m tired of hiding. I don’t want to be the secret anymore.”

“I can’t yet,” he replied, voice dropping. “Not until I get my inheritance. My grandfather’s trust requires me to stay married—no divorce on record. I’ll get it next month.”

“Next month?”

“Just wait,” he said. “After that, I’ll handle everything.”

Then his tone shifted, quieter. “And you know your brother. Nathan would lose it if he found out. He already hates me. If he learns I cheated on my wife… I’m done.”

I stepped back without thinking.

The floor creaked.

I froze.

Inside, they didn’t notice.

“Just a little longer,” Cassie whispered.

“Yeah,” I whispered under my breath too, barely audible even to myself. “Just a little longer.”

My hand tightened around the bottle.

“You’ll never see me again.”

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, carefully smoothing the silk of my emerald dress. It was simple but elegant—the kind of outfit a wife chooses for a four-year anniversary dinner, something meant to feel special. But the woman staring back at me didn’t look celebratory. She looked empty. Like she was only waiting for something to go wrong.

When I stepped into the living room, Cassie was just coming out of the guest room.

She wore something barely worthy of being called a dress—thin red fabric clinging tightly to her body, the neckline dipping far too low, the hem barely brushing mid-thigh. It was loud, deliberate, and impossible to ignore.

Marcus, standing near the door and checking his watch, lifted his head the moment she appeared. His expression shifted instantly—first surprise, then something darker.

“No,” he said sharply. “Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?”

Cassie only smiled, tugging at one of her straps as if it needed fixing. “Out,” she replied breezily. “I’m going to enjoy myself. It’s suffocating here with you two acting like a married couple in a romance movie.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Marcus cut in, stepping toward her. His tone turned harsher. “That outfit is way too much. You look…” He hesitated, jaw tightening. “You look cheap, Cassie. Change it.”

She tilted her head, unimpressed. “Why? Since when do you get to decide what I wear?”

“Because I’m looking out for you,” he said through clenched teeth. “Nathan would flip if he saw you like that. Your brother would never approve.”

From the hallway, I watched in silence.

To anyone else, it might have looked like concern—like a protective friend worried about his best friend’s sister. But I saw the truth in the way his gaze lingered too long, the way his jaw tightened, the possessive edge hidden beneath his words. It wasn’t protection. It was ownership. He didn’t want anyone else seeing her.

Cassie rolled her eyes. “You’re not my boyfriend, Marcus. And you’re not my brother either. I’m staying here because Nathan asked you to watch me. That’s it. You don’t control me.”

Without another word, she grabbed her bag, pushed past him, and left, her heels striking hard against the floor. The door slammed behind her.

Marcus didn’t move at first. His hands were clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles went pale. He stared at the door like he could burn straight through it.

I cleared my throat.

He startled, quickly turning toward me. For a brief second, his irritation was still visible before he forced it away into something softer.

“Ready, love?” he asked, though his voice was strained.

**

The drive to the restaurant felt suffocating.

Marcus held the steering wheel too tightly, his knuckles pale. His phone was constantly in his hand, his eyes flicking between the road, the mirror, and the screen. His leg bounced restlessly like he couldn’t sit still.

“If you’d rather not go,” I said quietly, watching the passing lights outside, “we can just go back.”

He let out a tense breath. “No, it’s fine.” Then after a pause, he added, “I’m just worried about Cassie. If anything happens to her, Nathan’s going to lose it. I promised him I’d keep an eye on her.”

“Is that really all it is?” I asked, turning slightly to study his profile.

He glanced at me quickly, forcing a calm expression. “Of course. What else would there be?”

I gave a small smile, almost tired. “Alright.”

The restaurant was beautiful in the way memory makes things cruel. Candlelight flickered across polished glass, a violin played softly in the background, and the scent of expensive wine filled the air. It was the same place where he had once proposed to me.

But tonight, Marcus wasn’t really here.

His body sat across from me, but his attention was somewhere else entirely—somewhere with a girl in red.

His phone lit up constantly. Every few seconds, he checked it again. He barely touched his food, barely acknowledged anything I said. When I tried to talk about anything at all—the weather, a book I’d read—he only responded with empty sounds.

“Mm. Yeah. Right.”

Then his phone buzzed again.

He grabbed it so fast his glass nearly tipped over. The moment he read the message, his face changed.

“I have to go,” he said immediately, standing.

I blinked, fork frozen halfway. “Marcus… we haven’t even ordered dessert.”

“It’s work,” he said, already reaching for his coat. “Something crashed. A server issue. I need to handle it right now.”

“On our anniversary?”

“I’m sorry, Nora.” His voice softened just slightly, but his movements didn’t slow. He placed money on the table without looking at me. “I’ll make it up to you. Take a cab home. I love you.”

And just like that, he was gone.

The words “I love you” lingered in the air long after his presence disappeared.

The waiter approached hesitantly. “Ma’am… should I bring the next course?”

“No,” I answered quietly. “Just the bill.”

The house was dark when I returned.

I thought I’d be alone.

But as I stepped into the living room, I stopped cold.

Cassie was sprawled across the couch, her red dress wrinkled, makeup smudged, laughing loudly as if the world was spinning with her. An almost empty bottle of tequila sat on the table.

And Marcus—he was kneeling beside her.

Not at work.

Not fixing anything.

Fixing her.

He wiped her face gently with a cloth, careful and patient, like she was something fragile.

“You’re a mess,” he said softly, almost fondly. “I told you not to go out like that.”

“I just wanted to have fun,” she giggled, reaching out to touch his face.

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm.

Then he saw me.

His body stiffened. He stood up quickly, putting space between them as if that would erase what I had just seen.

“Nora,” he said too fast. “I—I got a call. She was drunk at a bar. The bartender used her phone. I had to pick her up. It was urgent.”

So that was the emergency.

Not work. Not anything real.

Her.

She called, and he came running.

I stood still. “I see.”

“I’m sorry about dinner,” he added quickly, stepping toward me. “I was just about to—”

I walked past him without stopping.

No shouting. No tears. No reaction he could use.

“It’s fine,” I said quietly. “I’m tired.”

I went straight into the bedroom, closed the door, and locked it behind me.

Leaning against it, I listened to his voice outside—low, soft, telling her to quiet down, helping her up, guiding her toward the guest room like she belonged there.

My phone vibrated.

One email.

From Simon.

The divorce papers were ready.

Before I could breathe properly, another notification appeared.

Immigration Office.

Visa approved.

I stared at the screen, unmoving.

And for the first time that entire night, the tears that had been threatening to fall… simply stopped coming.

“It may take a bit more time for your body to fully recover, Mrs. Sinclair.”

Dr. Carter spoke gently, her tone calm and clinical, but the words still felt heavy inside the bright, sterile examination room. I sat on the paper-covered bed, the thin sheet crackling every time I shifted.

“The miscarriage you experienced was quite severe,” she continued, scanning my file. “Your hormones are still regulating. Stress plays a huge role in recovery. For now, you need rest—no pressure, no rushing into another pregnancy.”

I lowered my shoulders, letting myself look smaller, then pressed my hands over my face. A broken sob slipped out on cue. It wasn’t difficult anymore. The grief was real enough—always there, buried deep in my bones—but what I showed them was carefully controlled.

“Oh, Nora…” Marcus murmured immediately, pulling me closer. His voice softened into something almost tender. “It’s alright, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. “Don’t cry. We still have time. All the time we need.”

He turned to the doctor with that practiced concern. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll make sure she rests properly. I’ll take care of her.”

“She’s fortunate to have you,” Dr. Carter replied warmly, smiling at him.

I shut my eyes against his chest as that word landed again—fortunate.

If only she knew the truth. That the same man holding me so gently was the reason my body had been breaking down in the first place. The reason I could barely breathe in this house without feeling like I was drowning in it.

That night, the Sinclair estate was dressed in quiet luxury, but the air felt anything but peaceful.

Marcus’s mother carefully cut into her food, her movements precise. “So,” she said coolly, not even looking up, “what did the doctor say? When will we finally see an heir in this family?”

I kept my eyes on my plate, absently moving a piece of food around with my fork just to look occupied.

“Mother,” Marcus warned immediately, his tone sharp but controlled.

His father set his glass down with a dull clink. “It’s a fair question,” he said flatly. “The trust conditions are clear, Marcus. A stable marriage. An heir. Your grandfather wants to see a grandchild before he passes. If there’s no child…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to.

The message was obvious.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Marcus said, squeezing my hand under the table. His grip was firm—almost too firm. “But Nora needs time. She went through a loss. We both did.”

“Time doesn’t stop obligations,” his mother replied with a faint scoff. “And honestly, Nora, you’re not getting any younger. If you hadn’t been careless—”

“Enough.”

Marcus’s chair scraped loudly as he stood. The sudden force in his voice silenced the table.

“You will not speak to her like that,” he said, his words shaking with controlled anger. “I don’t care about the inheritance. I don’t care about the trust. I care about my wife.”

He looked between them, jaw tight. “If you bring this up again, we’re leaving.”

Then he turned to me, his expression softening instantly. “Are you alright, Mo?”

I nodded slightly. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I’m okay.”

“Then we’re done here,” he said.

Before anyone could respond, he pulled me up and guided me out, his arm firm around my waist as if shielding me from them.

In the car, his anger hadn’t fully cooled.

“I’m sorry about them,” he muttered, gripping the wheel tightly. “They’re unbearable. I’d choose you over all of it—money, inheritance, everything.”

“I know,” I replied softly. “You’re good, Marcus.”

A liar sitting beside another liar.

When we got home, music was already echoing through the living room.

Cassie was there again.

She was stretched out near the indoor pool that opened into the house, wearing a bright neon bikini that left little to imagination. Her hair was wet, droplets falling onto the expensive carpet while she lazily sipped a drink like she owned the place.

I stopped at the doorway.

Something inside me finally snapped—not loudly, but cleanly.

“When is she leaving this house?” I asked, voice steady and cold.

Cassie glanced up with fake surprise. “Oh, you’re home early.”

“I asked you something,” I said, shifting my gaze to Marcus. “When is she leaving? It’s been months.”

Her expression crumpled into practiced innocence. “Wait… you don’t want me here anymore? Nora, did I do something wrong?”

“I don’t like her walking around like that,” I said sharply, gesturing at her. “It’s inappropriate. It looks like she’s trying to get your attention, Marcus.”

He let out a short, uneasy laugh. “What? Nora, no. She’s practically family.”

“She’s not your family,” I shot back. “And she’s definitely not mine. She drinks here, she disrespects me, and she walks around like this in my home. I’m done tolerating it.”

Then I turned to him fully.

“Choose, Marcus,” I said quietly. “Her or me. I won’t live like this anymore.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked straight to the bedroom.

He followed immediately, slamming the door behind him.

“What was that?” he demanded. “Have you lost your mind? Throwing her out like that? She has nowhere else to go!”

“She has a brother,” I said, removing my earrings slowly. “She can go to Nathan.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” he paced behind me. “Is this jealousy? Seriously? You’re jealous of a twenty-two-year-old girl?”

“I’m jealous,” I snapped, turning on him, “that my husband cares more about her comfort than his own wife’s pain. I just lost a baby, Marcus, and I come home to that circus in my living room?”

He stopped pacing.

For a moment, silence stretched between us.

Then his expression shifted—softer, calmer. He exhaled and walked toward me, taking my hands gently.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how it looked from your side. I’ve just been overwhelmed.”

He kissed my knuckles. “But kicking her out like that tonight wasn’t fair. It’s late, Nora. And she’s still young… she doesn’t think things through.”

“She doesn’t respect me,” I muttered.

“She does,” he insisted quickly. “She’s just immature. Please… just apologize, alright? For me. I’ll handle her clothes, I promise. But don’t turn this into a fight with Nathan’s sister. He’s my best friend.”

I went still for a moment.

Then I whispered, “Fine.”

That night, Marcus fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted from the weight of his lies.

I stayed awake.

For a long time, I didn’t move.

Then, quietly, I slipped out of bed—careful not to wake him—and began preparing something he would never forget.