Corinna POV:

His voice, sharp and demanding, cut through the quiet of my thoughts as I re-entered the dining room. "Corinna, where have you been?"

I turned, a polite smile already fixed on my face. It was a mask I'd perfected years ago, a political wife's most essential tool. "Just getting some fresh air, darling. My head was spinning a little with all the memories of Dad." I touched my forehead, feigning a slight dizziness. It was a believable excuse, given the occasion.

His eyes narrowed, scanning my face, searching for any tell. He was good, but I was better. My poker face was inherited from a man who could charm the truth out of anyone, and hide his own with equal skill. I knew how to play this game. I'd been learning from the master my entire life.

He must have found nothing, because his features softened. He pulled me close, his arm a possessive band around my waist. "You worried me, my love. You know how dangerous it is for a woman to wander alone, especially tonight." He pressed a kiss to my hair. "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you. We belong together. Forever."

The words felt like poison, burning my throat. Forever. How easy it was for him to utter such vows while his heart, or what passed for it, belonged to another. To my sister. He was a master of performance. And I, his unwitting audience, had finally seen through the act.

"I can't imagine a life without you, Corinna," he continued, holding me tighter. "The thought of losing you... I would fall apart." He buried his face in my hair, exhaling deeply. "You are my anchor. My rock. My everything."

His lies were so bold, so blatant, they almost made me laugh. I felt a surge of cold fury. This man, who was destroying my life, was pretending to be madly in love. He was an insult to the very concept of fidelity.

"So," I began, my voice soft, almost playful, "if hypothetically, I were ever to… disappear, or, say, betray you, what would you do, Graham?"

He pulled back abruptly, his eyes flashing with genuine anger, not the performative kind. "Corinna! Don't even joke about such things." His grip on my arm was tight, bruising. "Betrayal is the ultimate sin. Loyalty is everything." He looked around, making sure no one was listening too closely. "My family has always upheld that. Cross us, and you'll regret it."

He looked at me, his gaze intense, almost threatening. "You know my family's code. Loyalty is sacred. And I, Corinna Cross, swear on my family's honor, I will never betray you."

His words echoed in the elegant room, a hollow promise that mocked the truth I had just discovered. He swore on his family's honor. On his family. The very honor he was trampling with my sister.

"I know, darling," I said, a placid smile on my face. I patted his hand, forcing myself to relax into his touch. "I was just being silly. Of course, you wouldn't."

He relaxed, a smug satisfaction spreading across his face. He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering. "You are mine, Corinna. You always have been, and you always will be. We are destined for greatness together. No one can ever come between us." His eyes held a possessive glint. "If anyone ever tried to take you from me, I swear, I would make them regret the day they were born." He leaned in, his voice a low growl. "And if you ever left me, Corinna, I would hunt you to the ends of the earth. You cannot escape me."

I closed my eyes briefly, a chill running down my spine. You cannot escape me. He was right. Or, he thought he was. He had no idea the woman he was holding was already gone. My heart, once beating solely for him, was now a barren wasteland. I felt nothing but a cold, burning resolve.

I gently pushed away from him, my smile never wavering. "Graham, darling, I really do need a few minutes of quiet. I'll be in the study, just collecting my thoughts."

He frowned, but his phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and his confident expression faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation, then something else. Something like… panic. And desire.

My eyes, sharp and perceptive, caught the name on the caller ID before he quickly angled the screen away. "Little Canary." My sister's pet name. Hollie.

He mumbled something about an urgent family matter, a sudden crisis he needed to handle. His eyes, now full of feigned regret, met mine. "I'm so sorry, Corinna. It can't wait. You understand, don't you?"

"Of course, darling," I said, my voice sweet, understanding. "Family always comes first." The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth.

He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Wait for me, my love. Go on up to our suite, rest."

I nodded, playing the dutiful fiancée, the understanding partner. He smiled, relieved, and hurried out of the room, his security detail falling into step behind him. I watched his retreating back, a ghost of a smile on my lips. He thought he was escaping. He was just walking into my trap.

As soon as his car pulled away, I moved. Not to the suite, but to the service entrance. My plan was set. And my prey, oblivious, was already leading me exactly where I needed to go.

Corinna POV:

Graham was about to say something else, some parting instruction, when Robert, his aide, appeared at his elbow, whispering urgently. Graham' s expression shifted from feigned concern to genuine annoyance. He sent Robert a sharp glance, then squeezed my hand. "Later, my love. I promise."

He gave me a mysterious, almost mischievous smile, then took my hand, leading me towards the grand double doors that opened onto the estate' s sprawling gardens. "Come on, I have a surprise for you."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a dull, frantic drum. A surprise? Tonight? After everything? I wanted to resist, to pull away, but I needed to maintain the facade. I needed him to believe I was still his.

He stopped me at the threshold, his hands gently covering my eyes. "No peeking, my beautiful Corinna. This is something special. The perfect way to end a difficult day, and to remind you of our future." His voice was soft, seductive, a practiced lullaby.

I felt his breath on my ear as he began to count down. "Five… four… three… two… one!"

He lifted his hands, and I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the soft glow of the garden lights. Above us, suspended against the inky canvas of the night sky, hundreds of drones lit up, shifting and swirling, forming intricate patterns. They danced, a mesmerizing ballet of light, until finally, they coalesced into a single, breathtaking image: my name. CORINNA. It glowed, brilliant and ethereal, a testament to his power, his wealth, his performative love.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me flush against his chest. "Happy anniversary, my love," he whispered, his lips grazing my earlobe. "Seven years since we met. Seven years of the greatest love story I know. Every year, I try to outdo myself, to show you how much you mean to me."

Seven years. Seven years of me believing in this carefully constructed fantasy. Seven years of me, the naïve girl, falling for the charismatic politician who promised me the moon. I used to look at surprises like this and feel my heart swell with love, with gratitude. Now, it felt like a cruel joke. A gilded cage.

I remembered the girl I was seven years ago. Full of hope, brimming with ambition, yet willing to set it all aside for the man I believed was my soulmate. I had been so earnest, so dedicated. I had walked away from my own burgeoning political career, from the path my father meticulously laid out for me, to support his. To be his strategist, his confidante, his quiet strength behind the scenes. I had been a fool. That girl was gone now, replaced by a cold, calculating woman.

"And every year, I succeed," he chuckled, his voice thick with pride. "You deserve nothing but the best, Corinna. You always have." He turned me in his arms, his gaze intense, about to lean in for a kiss.

Just as his lips brushed mine, his phone vibrated again. The harsh buzz shattered the romantic illusion, tearing a hole in the carefully crafted moment. He pulled back, his jaw tightening in annoyance. He snatched the phone from his pocket, his eyes flashing with irritation.

But then he saw the caller ID. His expression, so full of performative romance a second ago, drained of all color. His eyes widened, a flicker of panic, then a raw, uncontrolled desire. It was her. "Little Canary."

He fumbled with his phone, trying to silence it, to hide it. Too late. I had already seen. My heart, already a fractured mess, splintered further. The sheer audacity of it. Calling him now, at my father' s memorial, at our "anniversary" celebration.

He tried to compose himself, a mask of weary apology settling on his face. "Corinna, I… I'm so sorry. It's a family emergency. A crisis I have to handle immediately." His eyes pleaded for understanding, for belief.

Hope. A tiny, foolish spark, flickered within me. Maybe it wasn't what I thought. Maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe…

"Is everything alright, Graham?" I asked, my voice a delicate thread, almost fragile.

He shook his head, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "No, my dear. Not at all. It's… complicated. My aunt, an unexpected health issue. I need to go. Immediately." He avoided my gaze, his eyes darting towards the gates.

He reached out, his hand gently cupping my cheek, then pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss to my forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Please, go inside, get some rest. I'll call you as soon as I'm free."

He was already turning away, his mind clearly elsewhere. "Don't wait up for me."

"Of course, Graham," I replied, my voice a soft, compliant whisper. The obedient fiancée. The trusting woman. It was a role I played well, years of practice.

He gave me a quick, grateful smile, clearly relieved by my easy acceptance. "That's my girl." He strode away, his security team scrambling to catch up. I watched his sleek black sedan disappear down the drive, the drone lights still spelling out my name in the sky, a final, mocking touch of his carefully constructed illusion.

There was no way I was going inside. Not now. Not when the truth was calling. I quickly hailed a discreet car from the security detail, one he wouldn't notice. "Follow him," I instructed the driver, my voice low and firm. "Keep a distance. I need to know where he's going."

Corinna POV:

The car moved silently through the night, a phantom in the city's labyrinthine streets. We followed Graham' s convoy, a dark serpent winding its way through the elite districts, past sprawling mansions and manicured hedges. My driver, a man named Mark, was efficient and unobtrusive, a veteran of political shadows. He knew instinctively not to question.

Graham's destination was not a hospital, as he' d claimed, nor the discreet clinic he sometimes used for "urgent family matters." It was the private, heavily guarded estate of his family's closest allies, a place reserved for their inner circle. A place I knew intimately, a place I had often visited with him. A place no "outsider" could ever enter without direct clearance.

Mark pulled up a block away, turning off the headlights. "He's gone in, ma'am," he murmured, his eyes on the imposing gates. "The guards waved him right through."

I nodded, my gaze fixed on the entrance. I knew exactly where he would go inside. The small, secluded guesthouse hidden behind the main residence, a little indulgence Graham kept for his… private moments. His private moments. My stomach churned.

"Wait here," I told Mark, my voice flat. "I'll be back."

I got out of the car, adjusting the shawl around my shoulders, and walked towards the entrance. The guards, recognizing me, nodded respectfully and opened the small pedestrian gate. "Good evening, Ms. Cross. Congressman Rios is already inside." Their smiles were knowing, friendly. They thought I was here to join him. How wrong they were.

I slipped past them, melting into the shadows of the carefully lit gardens. The air was thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, cloying and sweet. I moved silently, my soft shoes barely disturbing the gravel paths. My heart felt like a block of ice, heavy and inert in my chest. I wasn't just observing. I was preparing.

I found my spot, hidden behind a thick cluster of hedges, with a clear view of the guesthouse. The lights were on inside, casting a warm, inviting glow. A moment later, the guesthouse door opened.

Hollie.

She burst out, a vision in a shimmering silk dress, her blonde hair a cascade around her shoulders. She threw herself into Graham's arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as he caught her, spinning her around in a dizzying embrace. Her laughter, high-pitched and triumphant, pierced the night.

"Graham! Oh, my darling, I saw the drones! My name on the sky! You really did it!" she gushed, her voice thick with adoration. "But… why Corinna's name first? You should've put mine!" She pouted playfully, a gesture I recognized. It was her signature move when she wanted something.

Graham laughed, a deep, satisfied sound. "My little canary. You know I have to keep up appearances. Besides," he murmured, his lips pressing a kiss to her temple, "that was just a warm-up. You know your birthday is next week. I've got something even better planned for you then. Fireworks. Just for you."

Fireworks. I remembered the year before, Graham had told me he was too busy with a crucial Senate vote to celebrate my birthday in a grand way. He' d gifted me a simple, elegant necklace, saying, "True love doesn't need grand gestures, Corinna. It needs quiet devotion." I had smiled, touched by his "sincerity." He had been with Hollie, watching fireworks.

"You really spoil me," Hollie cooed, nuzzling into his neck. "But you know what I really want, don't you? I want her gone, Graham. I want to be your First Lady. Your wife. Not just your little secret."

Graham's eyes, even from this distance, held a possessive hunger as he looked at her. "Patience, little one. All in good time. You'll have everything she has, and more. Trust me."

My breath caught in my throat. Everything I had. Everything she had. He was talking about my life. My position. My future. He was planning to hand it all over to my sister.

I remembered his words: Just some minor internal disagreements… my aunt, an unexpected health issue. Lies. All of it. He wasn' t handling family business. He was building a new family. With my sister. While I sat alone, fearing for his safety, believing his every word. I was a puppet. A fool who danced on the strings of his deceit.

Hollie pulled back, her eyes sparkling with challenge. She reached into her small purse, pulling out a small, delicately wrapped box. "I brought you a gift, darling. To celebrate our future. You have to open it yourself though. It's… very special." Her voice was a purr, dripping with innuendo.

His eyes darkened with lust. He scooped her up effortlessly, cradling her in his arms. She giggled, a sound that grated on my raw nerves. "My beautiful canary," he whispered, his lips tracing the curve of her neck.

He carried her across the threshold of the guesthouse, her legs still wrapped around him. Just before the door closed, I heard her whisper, "Kiss me, Graham." And then, a wet, smacking sound, followed by her breathy moan. The door clicked shut, plunging the guesthouse into a more intimate, suggestive darkness. I knew what would happen next. I didn't need to see it to know. The top floor suite. The one he always reserved for… special occasions.

A wave of nausea washed over me. My vision blurred. I felt lightheaded, as if all the air had been sucked out of my lungs. My knees buckled, and I sank to the ground behind the hedges, the rough leaves digging into my skin. Tears, hot and stinging, streamed down my face, blurring the soft glow of the guesthouse lights into an ugly smear.

Graham had promised me forever. He had sworn on his family's honor. He had told me I was his anchor, his rock, his everything. All lies. Deceit. A grand performance staged just for me. And I, the star of his delusion, had fallen completely.

I saw it clearly now. My life was over. My marriage, before it even began, was a shattered illusion. The dream of a family, a future, everything I had clung to, was gone. Just like that.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the sobs back down my throat. No more tears. Not for him. Not for them. My father's voice, quiet and firm, echoed in my mind: "Never let them see you bleed, Corinna. They'll only twist the knife."

I wiped my face roughly with the back of my hand, the wetness a cold reminder of my pain. Three days. That' s all I had left. Three days, and Corinna Cross would cease to exist.

I walked back to Mark' s car, my steps steady, my face emotionless. "Take me home, Mark," I said, my voice flat. "It's late."

Back at the mansion, the sprawling symbol of my broken dreams, I bypassed the main suite. The thought of stepping into that room, our room, where he would eventually return from her arms, made my stomach clench. I found a guest room, locked the door, and sank onto the pristine white sheets. I was already a ghost in my own life.

Hours later, long after midnight, I heard the faint rumble of Graham' s car. Then his footsteps, heavy and impatient, echoing through the silent house. "Corinna? My love, where are you?" His voice was thick with sleep, or perhaps, lingering passion.

I heard him checking our suite, then calling out again, his voice rising in irritation. "Corinna! Where the hell are you?"

A moment later, Robert's voice. "Sir, Ms. Cross's car… it's not in the garage. She must have gone out."

Graham's roar of frustration shook the very foundations of the house. "Find her! Now! Search every inch of this city if you have to! I want her found!"

I heard heavy footsteps thundering down the hall, coming closer. My heart pounded, but I forced my breathing to remain even. The door to my guest room burst open.

Graham stood there, his eyes wide with a mixture of anger and panic. He looked disheveled, his suit jacket askew, his hair mussed. He saw me lying in bed, feigning sleep, my eyes fluttering open as if roused by the commotion.

His anger evaporated, replaced by a profound relief that made his shoulders slump. He crossed the room in two strides, pulling me into a crushing embrace. "Corinna! Oh, thank God! I thought… I thought you were gone. I thought I'd lost you." His voice wavered, thick with a terror that felt almost genuine.

I patted his back gently, my hand light and dismissive. "Graham, darling, what's wrong? Why are you shouting?"

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine, still filled with a lingering fear. "You weren't in our room. Your car was gone. I just… I panicked. I can't lose you, Corinna. I can't."

I forced a weak smile. "I just wasn't feeling well. The emotions of the day, you know. I took a sleeping pill and came into a quieter room. I didn't want to disturb you."

He looked at me, a soft, relieved sigh escaping his lips. "Oh, Corinna. My love. You scared me half to death." He kissed my forehead, then pulled me close again, holding me tight against his chest. "Never do that to me again. I need you. I need you more than you know."

He needs me. Not loves me. Needs me. He needed my political acumen, my connections, my family name, the facade I presented to the world. He needed me to keep his house of cards from collapsing.

"I'm here, Graham," I whispered, my voice a soft lie. "Always."

He held me until he drifted off to sleep, his breath warm on my neck. His hand, heavy and possessive, rested on my stomach, a cruel irony. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, my heart a stone. He thought he had me. He thought he was safe. He had no idea the woman in his arms was already plotting his downfall. I closed my eyes, a cold, humorless smile on my lips.