I stood in the lobby of Peters Corporation, the security guards' hands firm on my arms as they escorted me toward the exit. The weight of humiliation pressed down on me, but I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. As they pushed open the glass doors, I turned back one last time, catching Grayson's eye across the marble expanse. For a moment—just a moment—I thought I saw something flicker in his gaze. Regret? Guilt? Whatever it was, it vanished as Anaya slipped her arm through his, her victorious smile cutting me to the bone.

The doors closed behind me with a final, decisive click.

"This isn't over," I whispered to myself, the cold morning air stinging my cheeks.

---

Night had fallen by the time I returned to Peters Corporation. The security shift had changed, and the night guard—an older man who'd always been kind to me—looked away as I slipped past him toward the executive elevator. He'd known me for years; perhaps some loyalties ran deeper than corporate restructuring.

The familiar weight of my wedding ring pressed against my finger as I rode the elevator to the top floor. Five years of marriage, of building this company from nothing, of loving a man who could apparently discard me without a second thought. The elevator doors opened to the darkened executive floor, only Grayson's office still illuminated at the end of the hall.

I didn't knock. I simply pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Grayson looked up from his desk, his expression shifting from surprise to annoyance. "Isabella. Security should have—"

"Should have what? Prevented your wife from seeing you?" My voice was steadier than I felt, my hands clutching my purse where I'd stashed our wedding photos. "What game are you playing, Grayson?"

He stood slowly, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the office. "This isn't a game. It's business."

"Business?" I laughed, the sound hollow even to my own ears. "Is that what you call publicly humiliating me? Having me thrown out of the company I helped build?"

"You need to accept that things have changed." His voice was cold, detached—the voice he used for difficult business negotiations. But I wasn't a business deal; I was his wife.

I pulled out the wedding photos, spreading them across his immaculate desk. "Has this changed? Our vows? The promises we made?"

He glanced at the photos without touching them, his jaw tightening. "The past is the past, Isabella."

"The past? It was five years ago!" My voice rose despite my efforts to remain calm. "I gave up everything for you—my family connections, my inheritance, my career—to help you build this company. And now you're acting like I'm some delusional stranger?"

A flicker of something—guilt?—crossed his face before his expression hardened again. "Anaya saved my life."

Those four words hit me like a physical blow. The infamous "rescue" story. I'd heard whispers about it from office gossip—how Anaya had supposedly pulled Grayson from his burning car after an accident. An accident I'd never been told about.

"What are you talking about? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It doesn't matter now." He gathered the wedding photos and handed them back to me. "What matters is that I've made my choice. Anaya understands me in ways you never could."

I stared at him, this stranger wearing my husband's face. "And what about our marriage? Our life together?"

"Things change, Isabella." He turned away, looking out at the city lights. "People change."

I felt a subtle shift in the air and glanced toward the door. It was slightly ajar, and I caught a glimpse of cream-colored fabric—Anaya, listening to every word. The realization that this was all a performance for her benefit made bile rise in my throat.

"You'll regret this," I said quietly, gathering the photos. "When you realize what you've thrown away, it will be too late."

He didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge my words. I walked out, head held high, passing Anaya in the hallway. She didn't even try to hide the fact that she'd been eavesdropping, her smile smug as she slipped into Grayson's office behind me.

Through the closing door, I heard her voice, soft and concerned: "Oh, Grayson, are you okay? Did she threaten you again?"

And then his response, the final betrayal: "It's fine. You're all that matters now."

I sat on the edge of our bed—the bed Grayson and I had once shared—staring at my phone. My fingers trembled as I dialed the only person I could trust. The only person who had always been there for me, even when the Montgomery name had turned its back on us both.

"Mom," I whispered when she answered, my voice breaking. "I need you."

I didn't have to explain. Elena Montgomery had always possessed an almost supernatural ability to sense when I was truly in trouble. "I'm on my way, sweetheart. Twenty minutes."

The mansion felt cavernous and cold as I waited. Every surface gleamed with the perfection I'd maintained, every corner filled with memories of the life I'd built with Grayson. Now those memories felt like mocking ghosts, witnesses to my humiliation.

I heard the front door open, followed by my mother's familiar footsteps hurrying across the marble foyer. Before she could reach me, Grayson's voice thundered from his study.

"Isabella! Get in here now!"

My mother found me frozen in the hallway, fear and anger warring inside me. She squeezed my hand. "Together," she whispered, her eyes—so like mine—filled with fierce protectiveness.

We entered the study to find Grayson pacing like a caged animal, his face contorted with rage. Anaya sat perched on the edge of his desk, her eyes red-rimmed with practiced tears.

"What is she doing here?" Grayson demanded, gesturing wildly toward my mother.

"I called her," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "After you had me thrown out of my own company."

"Your company?" He laughed, the sound harsh and unfamiliar. "You're pathetic, Isabella. Clinging to something that was never yours."

My mother stepped forward. "How dare you speak to my daughter this way? After everything she's sacrificed for you?"

"Sacrificed?" Anaya's voice dripped with mock sympathy. "Is that what she told you? That she's some kind of martyr?"

"She's obsessed," Grayson continued, his eyes wild. "Coming to the office, harassing Anaya, threatening her—"

"Threatening her?" I gasped. "I never—"

"You're scaring me," Anaya whimpered, one hand protectively cradling her stomach—a gesture I'd seen her practice before. "Please, Grayson, make her stop. Think of our baby..."

The room spun around me. Their baby? The words hit me like physical blows.

"You're lying," I whispered, looking from her to Grayson. "Tell me she's lying."

Grayson wouldn't meet my eyes. "Anaya is in a delicate condition. Your behavior is putting her under stress that could harm our child."

My mother's grip on my arm tightened. "Isabella, we're leaving. Now."

"She's not going anywhere," Grayson snapped. "Not until she understands that her delusions end today."

"Delusions?" My voice rose despite my efforts to remain calm. "I am your wife!"

"A wife I never wanted!" he shouted, his face inches from mine. "A marriage that was nothing but a business arrangement!"

Anaya began to sob dramatically. "Please, stop! I can't take this! The doctor said I need to avoid stress!"

As if on cue, the door opened and a man in a white coat entered. I'd never seen him before.

"Dr. Winters," Grayson acknowledged him. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"What's going on?" My mother demanded. "Who is this man?"

"Isabella needs help," Grayson said coldly. "She's becoming hysterical."

The doctor approached with a syringe, and terror shot through me. "No! Get away from me!"

"Hold her," the doctor instructed Grayson, who moved with shocking speed.

His hands gripped my arms with bruising force as I struggled. "Mom! Help me!"

My mother lunged forward, but Anaya blocked her path. "It's for her own good," she said, her tears miraculously gone, replaced by a cold smile.

I felt the sharp sting of the needle in my arm as Grayson held me down. "This will calm her hysteria," the doctor said dispassionately.

"No," I whispered as the room began to blur. "Please... I'm pregnant..."

The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Grayson's face, his expression shifting from anger to shock—and then to something that looked horrifyingly like relief.