“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he said one evening, standing in my mother’s doorway, watching me carefully. “Come home.”
I met his gaze, unwavering. “I am home.”
His jaw ticked. “With your mother?”
“Yes.”
A flash of irritation crossed his face. “You’re my wife, Olivia.”
I smiled bitterly. “Am I?”
For the first time, uncertainty flickered in his eyes. He was losing control. And he knew it.
—
Everything was ready. Tomorrow, I’d be gone.
I stared at my flight confirmation, my heart hammering. This was real. This was happening. I was finally leaving.
But when I got home that night, the air felt… wrong. The house was dark, unnervingly silent. And then, I saw him.
Marco. Sitting in the living room, legs crossed, fingers tapping idly against a stack of papers. My papers. My fake passport. My flight ticket. My entire escape plan, laid bare in his hands.
Slowly, he looked up. And then… he smirked.
“You really thought you could leave me?”
My stomach lurched. I forced myself to stand my ground. “Give those back, Marco.”
His gaze darkened with something unreadable. “Oh, I will.”
He stood, moving toward me with a slow, predatory grace. “But first,” he murmured, his voice like silk-wrapped steel, “I have a little surprise for you.”
A sick feeling settled deep in my gut.
I didn’t sleep that night.
And the next morning, my world crumbled after I reached my office.
My name was everywhere.
“Billionaire Marco Rivera Files for Divorce—Publicly Rejects Wife!”
The air felt like it had been knocked from my lungs. My hands shook as I scrolled through the headlines.
“Faithful Husband Betrayed! Olivia Rivera Caught Having an Affair After Daughter’s Death!”
“Shocking Scandal: Marco Rivera’s Grief-Stricken Wife Found in Secret Meetings with Another Man!”
And then I saw them. The pictures. Of me and Damian's back at the café. Twisted. Manipulated. A weapon aimed at my heart.
My body went cold. Marco did this. He wasn’t just leaving me. He was destroying me.
I called Marco. Once. Twice. No answer.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palm. Coward.
The news was spreading like wildfire. My name was everywhere, dragged through the mud. Marco had set me up to be the villain—the heartless wife who cheated after losing her daughter. The world believed him.
I needed to face him. I needed to see for myself the monster he had become.
—