The air seemed to leave my lungs all at once. My hands shook so badly I had to grip the counter to stay upright. Suddenly, everything became clear—the way she defended him whenever I complained, the strange pity in her eyes when I praised him, the fact that she never missed a single anniversary dinner.
I walked out of that office feeling numb, like a ghost drifting through someone else’s life. Five years had been built on lies—every “I love you,” every promise, every kiss.
That night, rain tapped softly against my window. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my reflection. The woman in the mirror looked calm, but her eyes had turned cold and sharp.
I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found a number I hadn’t called in years.
“Hello, Mr. Gabriel Smith? It’s Veronica,” I said quietly, steady despite the trembling in my chest. “I heard you might be looking for a wife. Would you consider marrying me?”
“Miss Veronica,” Gabriel’s familiar voice drawled, amused and low, “have you lost your mind? You married my son, Sebastian. That makes me your father-in-law.” He chuckled softly, sarcasm lacing his tone. “Why ask me all of a sudden? Did you finally decide I’m the better choice, even with the age difference?”
I closed my eyes as memories flooded back.
Five years ago, Gabriel Smith had been the first man who truly caught my attention. He possessed everything my father admired—refinement, intelligence, authority. His quiet presence alone commanded respect, and people listened whenever he spoke. I had been young then, perhaps too young, but the attraction had been undeniable.
My father disapproved immediately. Gabriel was his friend, nearly fifteen years older than me. “You’re not meant for him,” my father had warned firmly. “And he’s not meant for you.”
So I let Gabriel go.
But not this time.
“No, Mr. Smith,” I said softly. “I’m leaving your son because I just discovered I’m actually his mistress… not his wife.” My voice faltered slightly. “So… if you’re willing, could you come pick me up in a few days?”
The quiet scratch of the pen against paper filled my office. My head throbbed, but I forced myself to concentrate. Page after page, signature after signature—contracts, approvals, documents. Lately, work had become my refuge. Numbers and facts never lied. People did.
Just as I reached for the final signature, a soft knock broke the rhythm.