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.

The ballroom felt stifling, like the air itself had turned heavy. Crystal chandeliers spilled light over the guests below, glittering against diamonds and polished smiles. The scent of lilies mixed with expensive perfume and old wealth, wrapping everything in a polished illusion. It was the Sinclair family’s night—celebrating a merger that would secure their empire for years to come.

I stood near the champagne tower, holding a glass of sparkling water I hadn’t touched once. My midnight blue gown fit perfectly, my smile practiced enough that my cheeks were starting to ache.

“Nora!”

The voice cut through the polite hum of conversation. I turned just as Nathan made his way toward me, confident and loud as ever. Cassie’s brother. Marcus’s best friend. Recently back from Dubai, still carrying that sun-tanned, slightly reckless energy.

“Nathan,” I greeted, and for once it was genuine. I had always liked him. He was blunt, sometimes too much—but at least he didn’t hide behind polished lies.

He pulled me into a tight hug. “Good to see you, Mo. You look incredible as always.” He let go and immediately clapped Marcus on the shoulder, who had appeared beside me without me noticing. “And you—lucky bastard. Still managing to outkick your coverage, huh?”

Marcus laughed, raising his glass to Nathan. “Every single time.”

Nathan’s expression shifted slightly, becoming more serious. “By the way, I wanted to thank you. For looking after Cassie while I was gone. I know she can be… a lot.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Marcus replied quickly, a bit too quick. His smile tightened. “She’s been fine. Very… well-behaved, actually.”

I took a slow sip of water, hiding the faintest smirk. Well-behaved?

“Actually,” I said lightly, almost conversational, “it’s been nice seeing her like that. She seems really happy these days. I think having a boyfriend has done wonders for her.”

Everything around us seemed to pause.

Nathan blinked. “Boyfriend?”

I felt Marcus stiffen beside me before I even looked at him.

“What boyfriend?” Nathan asked, confusion creeping into his voice. “She didn’t mention anyone. Who is he?”

“Oh,” I said, tilting my head as if I were thinking. “I assumed you knew. She’s out most nights lately. I haven’t met him, but she seems really invested in it.”

“Is that right?” Nathan’s jaw tightened as his gaze drifted across the ballroom. Then he spotted Cassie near the dessert table, laughing with a cluster of guests. “Excuse me.”

He walked off, purposefully, toward her.

“Nora,” Marcus hissed the moment Nathan was out of range. His fingers dug into my arm. “What the hell was that?”

I gently pulled my arm free, meeting his stare with wide-eyed innocence. “What? I thought he already knew. You said they were close.”

“You know he didn’t know,” he snapped, his voice low but sharp. His face had gone red, tension pulsing at his temple. “Why would you say something like that? He’s going to interrogate her now. If she slips—”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, lowering my gaze. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… it came out wrong.”

“Damn it, Nora,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “You know how strict Nathan is. That’s why Cassie acted out before—why she spiraled. She’s finally stable again, and now you’re stirring things up.”

Across the room, I could see it escalating. Nathan had reached Cassie. His gestures were sharp, his voice clearly rising. Cassie’s earlier laughter had vanished, replaced by stiff, uneasy movements. Heads were turning.

“Cassie is freaking out,” Marcus said under his breath, watching them closely. “I need to fix this before she says something she shouldn’t.”

He shot me one last warning look. “Don’t move. Don’t talk to anyone.”

Then he left.

I watched him go—watched him step between them, calming Nathan, leaning in to murmur something to Cassie that made her visibly tense. Always managing. Always balancing both sides of his carefully constructed life.

That was my cue.

I set my glass down on a passing tray without a word.

No goodbyes. No hesitation. I simply turned and walked out.

The heavy doors of the ballroom opened, and cool night air hit my skin like something I hadn’t felt in years.

Freedom.

I didn’t call the limo. I flagged down a taxi at the curb.

“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked.

“Sinclair Estate,” I replied.

The house was silent when I returned. Not peaceful—just empty in a way that felt like it had been waiting for me to leave it.

My suitcase was already packed and hidden deep inside the closet.

I changed quickly out of the gown into jeans and a soft sweater. One by one, I removed everything tied to him—the diamond earrings he had given me, then the wedding ring.

The ring landed on the nightstand.

Right beside a small velvet box.

Inside wasn’t jewelry.

It was a USB drive.

Every photo I had taken. Every message I had saved. Every recorded conversation—his plans, his lies, the way they talked about using me for the inheritance… and the truth about my baby.

Happy anniversary, Marcus.

I closed the box, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out without looking back.

I was already in the taxi, city lights streaking past like blurred memories, when my phone rang.

Marcus.

I stared at his name for a second longer than necessary, then answered.

“Nora?” His voice was breathless, edged with frustration. “Where did you go? I turned around and you were gone.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, letting my voice waver just enough. “I suddenly got a headache. It was too loud… too bright. I felt dizzy. I didn’t want to cause trouble, especially after what happened with Nathan and Cassie.”

“Oh.” His tone shifted immediately, softening. The irritation melted into something more familiar—control disguised as concern. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve taken you home.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your night,” I murmured. “You were dealing with them.”

“Yeah… that’s handled now,” he said with a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry I snapped earlier. I was just under pressure. You know how Nathan gets.”

“It’s okay,” I replied.

“Are you home already?” he asked. “I’m heading out. I’ll be there in twenty.”

My eyes drifted to the passing road sign.

International Departures – 5 Miles.

“No,” I said calmly. “Megan called me. My friend—the one going through her divorce. She’s falling apart. I’m on my way to her.”

“Tonight?” he groaned. “Nora, it’s late. You’re not even feeling well.”

“She needs me,” I said. “I’m already in the cab.”

He exhaled, clearly annoyed but trying to hide it. “Fine. Just… don’t stay out too long. When are you coming back?”

“Soon,” I said lightly. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you even notice I left.”

“Alright. Call me when you get there.”

“I will.”

A pause.

“Oh—and Marcus?”

“Yeah?”

“I left your anniversary gift in our room. On the nightstand. I know it’s late, but I think you’ll like it.”

“A gift?” His tone brightened, almost pleased. “You didn’t have to do that, Mo.”

“I wanted to,” I said softly. “It’s… very personal. You’ll understand me better after you see it.”

He chuckled. “Now I’m curious. I love you, Nora.”

“See you,” I replied.

The call ended.

I leaned back against the seat, watching the city blur into streaks of light.

I couldn’t wait for him to open it.