My stomach churned. A wave of nausea I'd never felt before.

Fiona saw the look on my face and rushed toward me, her own face a mask of worry.

The moment she got close, all I could smell was Leo's cheap perfume,made me want to vomit.

I shoved her away. Still playing the part, I fumbled my way into the bathroom.

It turns out my body has also started to reject Sophina's approach.

"Javier?" Her voice, laced with panic, came from outside the door. "What's wrong?"

I gripped the sink, trying to catch my breath.

That's when I saw it. In the trash can.

A prenatal report. Fiona's name was on it. Three months along.

The word "PREGNANT" seemed to be mocking me.

There were no tears. Just a cold, bottomless agony that hollowed me out.

Fiona and I hadn't slept together in six months.

Ever since I was injured, she always said I needed rest.

And now, she was pregnant with another man's child. That lowlife bodyguard's kid.

My heart felt like it had been smashed with a hammer, every piece bleeding.

Fiona rushed in, panicked, and wrapped her arms around me from behind.

"Javier, what is it? What hurts?"

"You pushed me away... My heart stopped."

Her arms trembled around my waist, holding me tighter, as if I might vanish.

One second, she's in bed with another man. The next, she's playing the loving wife for me.

Fiona, you're one hell of an actress.

I pried her hands off me and put some distance between us. "It's probably my stomach. I haven't had much of an appetite."

I didn't know when I'd learned to lie so easily. I used to despise people like that. Now, I'd become one of them.

My words sent Fiona into a panic.

Normally a neat freak, she didn't care that I was covered in vomit.She grabbed me again, holding me tight.

"Javier, I'm sorry. I've been so busy with the Family's art auction, I haven't been taking care of you."

Her body was pressed against my back. I could feel the softness of her breasts.

All I felt was disgust.

She turned me around, cupped my face, her brow furrowed with pain.

She led me back to the bedroom, took out a new set of pajamas, and tried to help me change into them.

But for the first time, I pulled away from her touch.

"I can do it myself."

Fiona froze.

In three years of marriage, I had never once refused her help.

"Javier... Are you angry with me? Blaming me for not being there for you?"she asked, her voice cautious.

I didn't answer.

I just mechanically stripped off the clothes tainted with her smell and threw them in the hamper.

"It's your birthday tomorrow." Fiona came to my side, tucking me in gently. "I'll clear my schedule. I'll be with you all day. We can go to that Italian place you love. I've arranged a private concert for you, with your favorite cellist."

The queen of Chicago's underworld, ruthless and feared, now so desperate and meek.

A harsh, bitter laugh escaped my lips. Was this my good fortune, or my curse?

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back tears. The exhaustion of the day pulled me toward sleep.

Just before I drifted off, Fiona's phone rang.

She answered it fast, her voice low. "What?"

"You soaked my shirt," Leo's lazy voice purred through the phone. "It smells like you."

His tone was pure seduction.

"Bring me a new set, will you? I'm waiting for you, my queen."

Fiona glanced down at me, making sure I was "asleep."

Then she leaned over, kissed my forehead, and slipped silently out of the room.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. The tears finally broke free.

Now I understood.

Leo was living here. In the guest wing.

And I was the blind fool in the middle of their game.

I tried to calm myself.

It's okay. One more week and I'm free of all this.

Free of this place filled with lies and betrayal.

Free of the woman I once loved, and now wished I'd never see again.

The next morning, Fiona was up early, making me breakfast.

The private dining room was filled with fine Italian food.

She personally sliced my prosciutto and brought the fork to my lips.

"Open up, my love." Her voice was sweet as honey.

I played along with her little show.

But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leo sitting at the other end of the dining room, his face dark. He clearly wasn't happy with Fiona's "performance."

"Try the cheese omelet. It's your favorite," Fiona cooed, feeding me.

Leo shot to his feet. His chair scraped loudly against the floor.

Fiona's hand trembled, but she recovered quickly.

Right in front of me, she texted him on her phone: I'll make it up to you later. Don't act out in front of Javier. That custom Ferrari SF90 is yours.

Only then did Leo's mood change. He shot me a scornful look, then got up and left the table.

As he passed Fiona, his fingers deliberately brushed her waist.

Her body flinched slightly, but she didn't pull away.

I ignored the food she offered and picked up my own utensils, pretending I couldn't see, and ate something else.

Fiona thought I was still sulking. After I finished, she insisted on taking me out.

"Tonight, I've booked the entire Art Institute of Chicago for you," she said. "There will be a grand charity gala to celebrate your birthday. I even flew in the principal cellist from the Vienna Philharmonic to play for you."

Her voice was laced with guilt, desperate to please.

"Don't you love Bach's Cello Suites?"

Yes, I used to.

Now, I had lost interest in everything.

On the way there, Fiona held my hand tight, as if afraid I'd fall. She kept bringing up our sweet memories from the past.

I said nothing. My heart was a wasteland of irony and pain.

I once thought we were the one fairy tale in this dark world. It turned out to be a joke.

Fiona liked excitement. She liked young flesh even more. She had long forgotten the blood oath we swore at our wedding.

We arrived at the museum. The main hall was dripping with gold and light.

But the first thing I saw were the black roses. Everywhere. A black so deep it was almost evil.

I'm severely allergic to black roses. Fiona knew this.

But Leo loved black roses. So tonight, for my birthday party, the hall was filled with his favorite flower.

Another lie, tailor-made for me.

The cellist came on stage, played one single Bach suite, and then left.

The "exclusive concert" was a single song. A token gesture.

"So beautiful," Fiona said, squeezing my hand. "Remember our wedding? It was right here."

Her voice started to break.

"You said we'd face whatever came our way, together. You said you'd always protect me, always love me."

As she spoke, she became emotional, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

She lifted my hand, making me touch the hot tear.

You have to love someone, really love them, to cry a tear that real.

If she hadn't betrayed me, I would have been moved enough to hold her and cry with her.

She did love me, once. But now, that was all in the past. She had split her love, and given a piece to Leo.

I pulled my hand back. My face was a calm mask.

Lost in her own emotions, Fiona looked hurt by my lack of reaction.

But just a few seconds later, her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face as she looked toward the stage.

Leo was wearing a custom Armani suit she had bought for him.

The suit made him look refined. Almost a gentleman.

Compared to me in my simple clothes, I had already lost.

Leo smiled and waved at us. "Happy birthday, Mr. Scott."

He walked over to Fiona and, ignoring everyone, grabbed her hand.

"Fiona, all the surprises you wanted are ready.I'll do the countdown."

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

A spotlight hit the center of the stage. The curtain pulled back.

A Titian original, worth thirty million dollars, was on display.

The three of us stood there. Fiona and Leo, their fingers intertwined. They were the couple. I was the ghost.

But what truly shocked me was the plaque next to the painting.

The gold letters shone under the lights:

"To my one and only knight, Leo."

The room fell silent for a heartbeat.

Then it erupted in applause.

The guests thought it was some kind of business stunt.

But I knew what it meant.

With a thirty-million-dollar painting, Fiona had just publicly declared her feelings for Leo.

At my birthday party.

In the same place we got married.

The applause started again. Guests raised their glasses in celebration.

Suddenly, Fiona told a guard to look after me. She had urgent business to attend to.

"Javier, you be a good boy and wait for me."

She kissed my cheek, then took Leo's hand and hurried toward the museum's private lounge.

I watched them leave. When the guard wasn't looking, I followed.

I crept up the stairs. Through a crack in the lounge door, I saw them.

Fiona was straddling Leo's lap.

Her evening gown was torn open, revealing pale skin.

Her head was thrown back, a muffled moan escaping her lips.

Leo’s hands gripped her hips, savagely setting the pace.

"Don't take out the painting I gave you again. Luckily, Javier didn't see it.”

"What are you afraid of? He's blind anyway. " Leo answered, her voice full of hunger.

I watched my wife on top of another man, taking what she wanted. She was never like this with me.

With me, she was always controlled, elegant.

But now, she had completely let go, like a starving animal.

My hand trembled as I pulled out my encrypted phone and started recording.

I had to have this. A reminder of how fake this woman was.

I stood outside that door until they were done.

Finally, Fiona was tired. She collapsed onto Leo's chest and fell asleep.

But Leo wasn't finished. He grabbed her and started again.

I couldn't listen anymore. I turned and walked away, feeling broken.

On the ride home, the driver asked if he should wait for Fiona.

"No," my voice was flat. "She has business to take care of."

By the time I got home, my heart was finally dead. I had let go of Fiona completely.

I twisted the wedding ring from my finger—the symbol of Falcone honor—and tossed it into the fire.

Then I went to my room and started gathering everything that had to do with her.

Our photos.

Her love letters to me.

The portraits I painted of her.

Souvenirs from our honeymoon.

I threw all of it into the fire.

The greedy flames licked at our memories, turning them to ash.

Sophina, there is no us anymore.

Two hours later, just as I returned to my room, Fiona burst through the door, sweating, looking frantic.

She smelled of sex. She’d obviously just finished another round with Leo.

"Javier?" She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw me sitting on the bed. "Why did you come back alone?"

Her voice was full of fear.

"You’ve been gone too long, and I got bored alone. So I asked the driver to bring me back." I said with a calm smile.

"Did you finish your business?"

"Yes, it's all taken care of," Fiona quickly explained. "I'm sorry I left you alone there."

She walked over and hugged me tight.

I could smell Leo on her. The smell of sex.

But I didn't push her away. I just stood there, my face blank, and let her hold me.

"I'll never leave you alone again," Fiona promised in my ear. "I swear."

Another promise. Her promises were worthless.

For the next few days, Fiona was all over me.

She cleared her schedule, spending every minute with me.

She cooked my favorite foods. Read to me. Walked with me. As if trying to make up for something.

But I knew it was just a performance, driven by guilt.

On the seventh day, we were walking in the garden when her phone rang.

"What is it?" she answered.

"A shipment needs to be dealt with, now," Leo's voice came through the phone. "It's urgent."

Fiona looked at me, hesitating.

"Go," I said. "I can take care of myself."

"Really?" she checked. "I'll be back soon."

"Wait," I called out.

I pulled a document out of my jacket.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Authorization papers for the overseas art fund," I said. "I need your signature."

Fiona didn't even look at it.

She was in a hurry to get to Leo. She signed the document without a second thought.

"There. I have to go." She handed the papers back to me and rushed toward the door.

She didn't even give me a goodbye hug.

I watched her walk away, then took off my sunglasses. My vision was perfectly clear.

Fiona had no idea. She had just signed an irrevocable divorce agreement.

With her own hand, she had signed our marriage away.

"Goodbye, Fiona."

I went back to the room. I uploaded the divorce papers, and the video from my phone, to the estate's main computer system.

I took one last, long look at the house that had been our home. I picked up my suitcase and walked out without looking back.

---

Meanwhile, Fiona arrived at the hospital.

Leo called and said he was attacked and stabbed while handling the shipment.

When Fiona got there, she saw it was another one of his games. He was perfectly fine.

She shot him an angry glare. "Don't be so childish."

Just as she turned to leave, the Swiss doctor who had treated my eyes walked by. He was in Chicago for a conference.

He saw Fiona and his face filled with concern. "Mrs. Moretti? Is there something wrong with Mr. Scott's eyes again?"

Fiona looked at him, confused.

"What do you mean, 'again'?"

"But Mr. Scott's eyes... he fully recovered and regained his sight a week ago," the doctor said, "He was so happy. He said he was going straight home to you, to tell you the good news himself."

The color drained from Fiona's face. Her eyes filled with a deep, bottomless panic.

She shoved Leo aside and stumbled back home.