I pushed open the door to our bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, my hair falling over my face, shielding me from the light above. I wanted to brush it away, but I couldn't find the strength. Soon, sleep claimed me, bringing a temporary end to my misery.

A loud knock on the bedroom door startled me awake. I blinked groggily, glancing at the clock-it was just past two in the morning.

I forced myself out of bed and opened the door, only to be shoved aside by Quinn. Raymond was with him.

"You sleep like a log too?" Quinn's voice was rough, his appearance disheveled yet still strikingly handsome. Even in his drunken state, he managed to show his disdain for me.

"Hi, Anastasia," Ray greeted, pushing Quinn into my arms. "Sorry for bringing him home like this... he had a bit too much to drink."

Ray was Quinn's closest friend, and a bad influence at that. I never liked him, but Quinn was not someone easily swayed by others.

"Oh..." I muttered, trying to steady Quinn as he leaned heavily on me, pushing me against the wall.

Ray gave us a quick glance before tapping Quinn on the shoulder. "Don't get too carried away, man. She arrives tomorrow."

"She?" I asked, confused, but Quinn's intense gaze held me captive. It was unlike him to look at me this way, with a warmth I had never seen before.

"Why did you leave me?" he suddenly asked, pulling me closer. "Just why?"

"Quinn, you're drunk. Don't do something you'll regret," I whispered, my heart racing. I couldn't resist him, but I feared the aftermath.

"I want you now..." he murmured, pressing me tightly against his chest before his lips crashed into mine.

I was stunned, but I kissed him back. I loved Quinn, and I wasn't going to waste this rare moment of affection. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste of him. But before I could fully immerse myself in the kiss, he pushed me onto the bed, tearing my clothes off with a roughness that shattered the fragile illusion of love.

He took me quickly, without tenderness, leaving me no time to even call his name. The act was over as abruptly as it began, a stark reminder that being his wife was a title I should be grateful to hold.

Quinn pulled away, and I knew instantly that the man I loved was gone, replaced by the cold, distant version of him I had grown accustomed to.

I looked away, not wanting to see the hatred in his eyes. I didn't want to be reminded that I meant nothing to him.

He stood up, heading to the drawer where he kept a bottle of pills. I knew what was coming. He would insist I take them, to erase any trace of this unwanted encounter.

He threw the pills at me, along with a bottle of water.

"Take them," he ordered me to take the pills, watching me intently as I shakily opened the bottle and swallowed two. I washed them down with half the water in the glass, my hands trembling.

When I finally looked up at him, my eyes burned with unshed tears. He pulled open a drawer and took out an envelope, walking toward me with deliberate steps. Confused, I took the envelope from him, my brow furrowing as I tried to make sense of it.

"What's this?" I forced the words out, my voice cracking as I fought to keep my composure.

"We're getting a divorce," he said flatly, shrugging into his suit jacket. "I want those signed before I return."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I clutched the envelope tighter, my chest tightening as I struggled to process what he'd just said.

"A divorce?" I whispered, the word tasting foreign on my tongue. "Why? Why do we need a divorce?"

He gave me a blank stare, his expression cold and unfeeling. He adjusted his jacket, clearly ready to leave again.

"Do as you're told, Anastasia, and don't ask questions. I'm done with this farce we call a marriage," he said, turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

Not wanting to let him leave, I quickly wrapped the blanket around myself and followed closely behind him, still concerned about his state of mind. He was obviously extremely drunk when Rey brought him in.

"What on earth is this, Quinn?" My voice trembled, the words barely holding together as I felt myself unravelling. "You're not doing this on my birthday, are you?" I asked, tears blurring my vision as he turned and glared at me with disdain. "You can't leave me like this after I sacrificed three whole years of my life for you!"

"And I'm giving you a chance to be free. Isn't that better?" he shot back, reaching for the dreaded file I clutched tightly in my hands. "Consider this a birthday gift and leave. I'll make sure you get all the benefits from the divorce."

"You're..."

"Leave, Anastasia." He cut me off sharply. "Leave now and say nothing more. You can have the Ferrari or one of the estates in Paris as part of the settlement... just go."

Just go!

I marvelled at how easily those words slipped from his tongue, as if they meant nothing. My eyes stung with fresh tears. I knew Quinn never loved me-it was always obvious to anyone who wasn't family. But I never imagined his hatred ran this deep.

I stumbled backward, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces as he tightened his grip on his suit jacket.

"Quinn," I called out, but the only thing I saw in his eyes was determination-determination to get rid of me.

"Addison will be here later today to finalise the divorce. Don't be stubborn, Anastasia," he said coldly, before turning and leaving the house.

I watched him walk away, and then I crumbled to the floor, doing the only thing I knew how to do: crying.

Anastasia

"Ana," Naomi's gentle voice called out from behind me as I sat motionless, staring at the papers Quinn had given me earlier.

I didn't know how long I had been sitting there, but my body felt numb and weak.

Hearing Naomi's voice pulled me back to reality, and I quickly scrambled to my feet, wiping my eyes so she wouldn't see how broken I felt.

"You've been sitting here for a long time," she added, concern lacing her words.

I turned slightly to face her, but I couldn't bear to fully meet her gaze. Instead, I walked past her in silence, the blanket still wrapped tightly around me, and headed toward the stairs where she stood.

Naomi knew better than to ask if I was okay.

My footsteps echoed in the quiet house as I hurried to the room Quinn and I shared. I collapsed onto the bed, the weight of Quinn's words still pressing down on me.

He wanted a divorce.

I couldn't sleep. My mind raced with thoughts, each one darker than the last. Where was Quinn? Where had he gone in the middle of the night? Every possible scenario played out in my head, each one more torturous than the last.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand; the clock showed it was well past three in the morning. My heart pounded as I scrolled through my recent calls, all to Quinn, all unanswered.

I had called him countless times while I sat on the balcony yesterday, waiting for him to come home.

With trembling hands, I dialed his number again.

It went to voicemail. I needed him to explain what he meant by Addison coming over to finalize this. There was no way I was going to divorce him without understanding what I had done wrong.

I tried again, and again, and again. Each time, the call ended with no one picking up. I decided to give it one last try.

The ringing seemed to last an eternity before it abruptly stopped. For a moment, all I heard was silence, and then...

"Veronica..."

He said the name softly, almost tenderly, followed by the rustling of sheets. My breath caught in my throat. Veronica.

Her name was all I had heard him whisper almost every night since I married Quinn. I had asked Naomi, and she confirmed what I feared-Veronica was his ex. The woman he never spoke about, the woman I always suspected held a piece of his heart I could never reach.

Before I could say anything, the call ended. The silence that followed was deafening, as if the entire world had gone mute. I stared at the phone in disbelief, my mind struggling to catch up with what I had just heard.

Veronica.

Her name echoed in my mind, each repetition more painful than the last. I felt like I was suffocating, my heartbeat louder with each thud.

Desperate for answers, I opened my social media apps, hoping to find some explanation, some reassurance that this was all a horrible misunderstanding. But instead, what I found made my blood run cold.

Pictures of Quinn and Veronica Rodriguez, the model, were everywhere. They were plastered all over the internet, smiling together at a lavish party. Her arm was draped casually over his shoulder, her head tilted toward him in a way that made my stomach churn.

And Veronica looked like me. It was uncanny how much we resembled each other.

The resemblance was haunting-the same dark hair, the same delicate features. But where I looked tired, worn out from years of trying to hold our marriage together, she looked radiant, glowing with confidence and joy.

The headlines were brutal, speculating about their rekindled romance, about Quinn leaving me for her. My hands shook as I read each article, each comment tearing my world apart piece by piece.

How could he do this to me? How could he so easily replace me with someone who was, in so many ways, just like me? The realization hit me like a ton of bricks-he had never truly loved me. I was just a placeholder, a substitute for the woman he really wanted.

No wonder Quinn came to me himself. He offered a helping hand when I needed it.

Tears streamed down my face as I curled up on the bed, clutching the phone to my chest. The pain was unbearable, a deep, gnawing ache that consumed me. I had given everything to this marriage, sacrificed so much, only to be discarded like I was nothing.

Veronica Rodriguez. The name would haunt me forever.

I tried to calm myself, taking deep, shaky breaths, but nothing worked. The tears kept coming, the despair overwhelming. The woman in those pictures, the woman Quinn was with, was everything I wasn't-confident, successful, adored. And he had chosen her over me.

No... he didn't choose her over me; he just went back to the arms that gave him solace.

I thought back to our wedding day, to the vows we made to each other. I had believed in those promises, believed that we would build a life together. But now, it felt like a cruel joke, like I had been living in a dream that had finally turned into a nightmare.

I knew I had to confront him, to demand answers, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I was paralyzed by the pain, by the betrayal. My mind kept going back to the phone call, to the way he had said her name with so much tenderness. It was a stark contrast to the way he had spoken to me earlier tonight, with nothing but coldness and disdain.

It occurred to me yet again why he came home drunk and had sex with me. He must have thought I was her.

As the night wore on, I felt myself slipping into numbness, a cold, empty void where the pain couldn't reach me. I welcomed it, needing it to survive what was happening. My heart had been shattered into a thousand pieces, and I didn't know if I could ever put it back together.

Morning light began to filter through the curtains, and I knew that soon the world would wake up and carry on as if nothing had happened. But for me, everything had changed. My marriage, my life, the man I loved-it was all over.

And all that was left was the unbearable silence of an empty house, and the knowledge that Quinn was somewhere out there with her.

Veronica Rodriguez.

It's now or never. I will go to him and seek answers.

Anastasia

"Mrs. Winfrey... my God, you're all dressed up. May I know where you're going?" Naomi's voice held a mix of surprise and confusion as she spotted me descending the stairs. I could see the shock in her eyes, as if she had been preparing to console me, perhaps even coax me into coming down for breakfast. The sight of me, dressed and walking briskly, was clearly the last thing she expected.

But I was done being the obedient wife who waits eagerly for her husband to come home with an explanation. For three long years, I had played that role-waiting, hoping, believing. But not anymore. I had reached my breaking point. I needed to know if there was anything left to salvage or if my marriage was truly over.

"I will be home soon, Naomi," I replied, my voice calm and controlled as I headed for the door. I couldn't tell her where I was going; she would only try to stop me.

The drive to Quinn's company felt surreal. My mind raced with thoughts of what I would say, how I would demand the answers I deserved. I feel so uneasy, each mile brings me closer to the confrontation I both dreaded and craved.

When I arrived at the building, I pushed through the glass doors with more force than necessary, my determination barely masking the anxiety that churned within me. The lobby was alive with movement, employees bustling about, none of them spared me a second glance as I made my way to the reception desk, my heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor.

I had never been to Quinn's company before and might never have, had circumstances not demanded it. Now, I had no choice.

"I'm here to see Quinn Winfrey," I announced, my voice more confident than I felt as I stood before the brunette woman behind the desk.

The receptionist, a young woman with impeccably styled hair and a cold, detached expression, barely looked up from her computer. "Do you have an appointment?" she asked in a monotone, her fingers tapping away at the keyboard.

"I'm his wife," I replied, though the words felt hollow even to me.

The receptionist finally lifted her gaze, her eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and disdain. "His wife?" she repeated, as if the very notion was absurd. "I wasn't aware Mr. Winfrey was married."

That must be a joke. For three years, I had been Quinn's wife, yet here I was, standing before someone who had no idea I even existed. The realisation sent a cold shiver down my spine-had Quinn hidden me from everyone in his life?

For Pete's sake, our marriage was public knowledge-it had been all over the internet. How could she not know?

"Yes, I'm his wife," I insisted, though my voice trembled slightly now. "I need to see him."

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with her colleague beside her. A small, condescending smile played at her lips as she looked back at me. "We get people like you every day, claiming to be someone important to Mr. Winfrey. But without an appointment, I'm afraid you'll have to wait."

She didn't just say that to me. People like me? How many women had come here, pretending to be a part of Quinn's life? And why did no one know I was actually his wife?

I opened my mouth to protest, to tell her I wasn't just another one of his many admirers, that I was the woman he had promised to love and cherish. I could have told her to look on the internet for confirmation. But before I could say anything, the elevator doors slid open, and my heart nearly stopped.

Quinn stepped out, his tall frame imposing and commanding as always. But he wasn't alone. Veronica Rodriguez was by his side, her hand resting casually on his arm as if she belonged there. They looked like the perfect couple-beautiful, glamorous, untouchable.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched them together, the ease with which they moved, the way they seemed to fit so perfectly. Veronica's laughter rang through the lobby, light and carefree, as if she hadn't a worry in the world. The employees around them bowed in respect, their gazes filled with admiration and envy.

I had always lived in the shadows. Today, I knew that more than ever.

My mind struggled to process what I was seeing, my worst fears manifesting before my very eyes.

She does look like me. A lot more than she did in the pictures.

"Quinn!" I called out, my voice shaky and desperate. I saw him hesitate for a fraction of a second before he turned towards me, his expression unreadable.

Veronica looked at me curiously, her hand still on Quinn's arm, but it was his reaction that shattered me. There was no recognition, no warmth in his eyes-just cold, detached indifference. It was as if I were a stranger, an inconvenience he had to deal with.

"Why haven't you been answering my calls?" I demanded, my voice breaking. "I've been trying to reach you all night! Your staff-they wouldn't let me in. They laughed at me when I said I was your wife! How could you allow that?"

I could feel the stares of everyone in the lobby, but I didn't care. I was beyond caring. The humiliation, the pain, it all came pouring out, and I was powerless to stop it. I just wanted the world to know my spot was right there, where she stood, beside him.

Quinn's jaw tightened, a flicker of something-anger, embarrassment?-crossing his features. But before he could respond, Veronica's voice cut through the tension, calm and composed.

"Quinn, maybe we should take this somewhere private," she suggested, her tone gentle, as if she were trying to soothe a wild animal. "There's no need to cause a scene."

We? I laughed bitterly.

Her words only made me feel worse. She was playing the role of the considerate, composed woman, while I stood there, unravelling in front of everyone. I hated her at that moment, not just for being with Quinn, but for being everything I wasn't-calm, confident, and in control.

But I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't just stand there and watch them walk away as if I were nothing.

"She's the reason?" I cried, taking a step towards Quinn. "The reason you treated me like trash, as if I was nothing to you. I'm your wife, Quinn! I deserve an explanation!"

Quinn's eyes darkened, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Anastasia, you need to leave," he said coldly. "This isn't the place for this kind of conversation."

This wasn't the place? When had he ever made time for me, for us, in private? The hurt in my chest grew unbearable, and I knew I was losing control.

"You are-" I was interrupted by the wave of his hand.

"Security," Quinn called out, his voice harsh and final. "Please escort Mrs. Winfrey out of the building."

Mrs. Winfrey. How perfect.

He had never called me that, and just when he needed the world to know I was nothing to him, he referred to me with his last name, telling the world that I was that wife in the shadows, the one no one was aware of. I wished he had just called me by my name.

I didn't fight as the security guards approached, their hands gentle yet firm as they guided me towards the exit. I was too numb to resist, too broken to care anymore. My legs felt like they could barely hold me up as I was led out of the building, my heart shattering with each step.

As the doors closed behind me, I caught one last glimpse of Quinn and Veronica. She leaned in close to him, her lips moving as she whispered something in his ear. I couldn't hear what she said, but I saw the way he looked at her-soft, almost tender.

And then she turned, her gaze meeting mine for just a moment. There was something in her eyes, a flicker of surprise. "She looks familiar," I heard her say faintly before the doors swung shut.

I stood there, alone and discarded. How has my life come to this? How had I become nothing more than a shadow in Quinn's life, someone to be forgotten and cast aside?

Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled out of the building, my heart heavy with the weight of everything I had lost. My marriage, my dignity, my sense of self-it was all gone, leaving me hollow and aching.

As I walked away from the company, with no place in mind to go, I realised that it was truly best for both of us to go our separate ways.