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.

ANA"What happened to you Ana? Where on earth did you go to?" Naomi asked with concern the minute I walked towards the entrance.

She'd been waiting for me at the entrance door like a mother whose child was yet to return from an errand.

Unable to speak or react to my surroundings, I walked past her straight to my room and broke into tears the moment I closed the door behind me.

The numbness spread to my legs and I released myself onto the cold floor, doing the only thing that I knew how to do best - cry.

"What's going on Ana, you need to speak to me," Naomi called from the other side of the door as she pounded gently on it.

She knew that I was having issues with Quinn but she was clueless as to where I went to and why I had come back home looking more downcast than I had left the house.

It all seemed like a bad joke.

Quinn had always despised me and I had taken all his attitudes with a smile but what I couldn't understand was why he wanted to get a divorce when I didn't do anything wrong.

Naomi gave up on knocking at my door and walked away when she saw that I wasn't going to open the door or reply to her.

After some minutes of crying, I wiped my tears and lay motionless in the room, thoughts of the few happy moments I had with Quinn replaying in my mind and fresh tears stung my eyes.

All these years I'd been asking what I did wrong, what about me changed so much that made him hate me this much but I just discovered that I wasn't the problem. I was only a side piece he used to bear the loss of his main chick.

A loud knock on the door disrupted my thoughts.

It was nothing like Naomi's gentle knocks and soft persuasion, it was more like an angry knock.

Just when I pushed myself up, the voice sounded from the other side of the door and it was nothing like that of the man I married three years ago.

"Why does she take so much time to open the door? She still thinks this is her house?" Quinn queried.

"Don't be too hard on her dear, maybe she needs some time alone to process the change and gather her belongings to move out." Veronica's voice chipped but there was something about her voice that enraged me.

She spoke and carried herself like she was the big one as she tried to calm Quinn down but I heard the sneer in her voice. I could hear the mockery she relayed to me through her words.

"Well I don't have such free time to give her." Quinn barked and resumed knocking relentlessly on the door.

How could he bring his lover to the house after humiliating me in front of her at the office?

He wanted to see me break.

I quickly wiped off any tears that were on my cheeks and unlocked the door.

The first thing I saw when I swung the door open was Veronica's hand, rubbing Quinn's chest and their gaze locked into each other's.

In my three years of marriage to Quinn, I've never seen him look at me in such a tender manner.

I shifted my gaze immediately and walked into the room but Quinn's voice followed me inside.

"Are you done packing your things? Veronica needs space to put her things."

I turned at his words and that was when my eyes caught the big bag that sat beside Veronica.

She was moving in the same day I was moving out?!

Not only did he humiliate me in front of her, he brought her to the house to watch me leave.

That was the last straw to break the camel's back and for the first time in three years, I didn't feel the need to answer my husband's humiliating questions.

I walked to the bed and picked up the envelope that held the divorce papers, took a pen from the drawer underneath my dressing table and signed the paper.

I picked up my already arranged box-most of my clothes were in my box-only my stay-at-home clothes were in the wardrobe and I could do without them. I could do without my makeup on the dressing table as well.

Walking towards Quinn and his mistress, I handed him the divorce papers and walked out of the room. I caught Veronica's expression and she was struggling to hide a snort.

I didn't care what she or anyone else thought about me anymore. I'd had enough for one day and three years.

As I walked down the stairs, I could hear the murmurs of the staff and I could see part of their faces peeping through the doors and I didn't fight it.

They could talk all they wanted, I didn't care anymore.

I was sure that the murmurs were what drew Naomi's attention as she came running towards me.

"Where are you going ma'am? Are you going on a trip?" Worry masked her face as she asked.

I knew that she knew what was going on but just didn't want to admit it so I cast her a cold glance.

"It's over Naomi, this marriage is over," I announced shamelessly and the staff gasped at my unfiltered words.

"So what? Do you want to walk out on your marriage now? After all, you've endured?" Naomi countered but I wasn't in the mood to drag words with her.

"Was this even a marriage from the beginning? I don't even know what this is." I found myself laughing as I spoke.

"Goodbye Naomi and thank you for your service." I finished and continued out of the house, leaving the woman staring at me helplessly.

Once I got out of the house, the driver made to open the car door for me but I stopped him with a wave of my hand.

"Don't worry, I'll take a cab." He nodded at my words and stepped aside without asking me any questions.

I slipped into the cab and shut the door beside me.

The further we moved away from the mansion, the more the weight of my new reality dawned on me.

I was no longer Mrs. Winfrey, but Anastasia. Just Anastasia.