Anthony Harris had spent six years proving that I was his everything. His love consumed him, and for a time, I believed I was his entire world. He cherished me in ways I thought would last forever.

But forever did not last long. Four years into our marriage, Anthony betrayed me. He cheated, and the cruelest part was that everyone around us knew, everyone except me.

That was the moment I decided to erase every last trace of who I was.

“Miss, are you absolutely sure you want to cancel your ID, passport, everything?” The clerk’s voice wavered with concern.

“If you ever need them back, it’ll be almost impossible. It’ll be like you don’t even exist anymore.”

Her words carried weight, but I did not flinch. I slid the form across the counter with steady hands.

“That’s the point,” I said softly. “I need to disappear so I can start over.”

I knew Anthony too well. The man who had once loved me obsessively would never stop looking for me, unless I ensured there was nothing left for him to find.

So, I would take everything he thought he knew about me, every trace of the life we had built together, and erase it completely.

I would make sure he could never pursue me again, leaving him to face the chaos he created.

For my final act, I left him a farewell gift.

It was a neatly wrapped box containing our divorce agreement, delivered on what would have been our fourth wedding anniversary. Inside was a simple note, [I wish you happiness with your new woman.]

By the time Anthony opened it, I was already gone. I was not Daisy Paul anymore, and he was chasing a ghost he could never find.

***

Since my request to erase my identity required a week to process, I returned home with a sigh.

But as I reached the front door, I noticed Anthony was already home. He walked over with that dazzling smile and pressed a kiss to my forehead before hugging me tightly.

The scent of his body odor hit me first, it was warm, familiar, almost comforting like always. But then another fragrance lingered, faint and floral, sharp like a thorn, definitely not mine.

Something inside me cracked, and my heart felt as if it sank a little lower.

“Where have you been? Why are you home after me?” His question, casual on the surface, made tears well up in my eyes unexpectedly.

Four years of marriage and I had never given him a reason to ask that, since I had always been the obedient wife, staying home, ensuring his world was steady and perfect.

A far cry from the girl I once was, one who loved spending time outside to escape the suffocating pain of my broken home. The reason why marriage and divorce were two things I had always wanted to avoid.

But Anthony never seemed to understand that. He did not realize why I made him wait for two long years before I finally accepted him.

It was not because I did not care for him, but because I was terrified of giving someone my heart only to have it broken.

And yet, after I spent four years loving him, trusting him, and building a life together, he cheated on me so easily, so carelessly. As if the years I gave him meant nothing.

I also suddenly started to be aware that Anthony had been coming home late, claiming to be swamped with work. The classic excuse of a husband with a mistress.

And Julie Osborn, his secretary, was more than just his mistress.

That afternoon, I had wanted to surprise him. I spent hours preparing his favorite dish, imagining the warm smile he would give me.

Instead, I was the one surprised, by the sight of them locked in a passionate kiss when the lift I wanted to take opened its door.

He had her pressed against the elevator wall, his back to the door.

They did not even stop their activity, even when I stepped into the elevator or the other employees, as if they had done that a hundred times before.

I could see Julie glanced at me, a triumphant gleam in her eyes, as though daring me to react.

Some employees who started to notice me too, shifted their expressions from calm to surprise.

It hit me then. Everyone knew. Everyone except me.

By the time the elevator reached the top floor, I had left. I threw the lunchbox into the nearest trash can and headed straight to town hall to begin erasing my existence.

So, when I was standing before Anthony, wrapped in a hug that once felt like home but then carried the shadow of another woman, I could not stop the flood of emotions.

The heartache and disappointment cut so deep that my tears betrayed me before I could even find the words.

Since I stayed silent, he loosened his embrace, his brow furrowing in concern when he noticed my tears.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice gentle, almost panicked. “Did someone hurt you before?”

I swallowed hard, pushing the truth deep down where it would not surface. “No, I… I’m fine. I lost track of time reading at the café. The novel was sad, and I guess I got caught up in it.”

Relief softened his features. He leaned in, pressing his cheek against mine, his warmth a mockery of the cold reality I then lived in.

“How about you stop reading sad stories, hmm?” he murmured, his tone tender. “Didn’t I promise to make you the happiest woman in the world?”

His words, once sweet, that time felt hollow.

Since in the eyes of others, my life in London seemed the epitome of perfection.

Married into a billionaire family with generational wealth, my only responsibilities were to take care of myself, oversee the sprawling Manor, and bask in the adoration of my husband.

But perfection was fragile. Especially when a third person wedged themselves into a world meant for two.

So, I would step aside. I would let Anthony find happiness with his new woman, even if it meant erasing my place in his life.

After all, saying goodbye to the luxury I had enjoyed for four years was not the hard part.

The hard part was staying under the same roof with a man who no longer loved me, a man who was already building a future with someone else.

“All those heartbreaks in those stories aren’t real,” he continued. “But our happiness is.”

But Anthony, if only you knew. The heartbreak I felt was not fiction. It was real, so real until it suffocated me more than any sad story ever could.

Freedom from Anthony still felt agonizingly out of reach. Another week tethered to this life, another week of pretending.

We, once again, spent another night lying in the same bed, but the warmth of Anthony’s embrace felt like a distant memory.

Instead of comfort, his touch made my skin crawl as images of his hands exploring another woman filled my mind.

Sleep eluded me as my thoughts spiraled, replaying the scene in the elevator. How casual it was for him and Julie, how the employees barely reacted as if their affair was an open secret.

When morning came, Anthony woke me as he always did, teasingly lifting me from bed and carrying me to the bathroom to shower together.

It was a ritual that had once made me feel cherished. But then, it only made me feel sick.

‘Could they have done this, too? Shared these same intimate moments behind my back?’ I wondered.

However, Anthony, oblivious to my coldness, brushed it off.

He had grown used to pursuing me during the early days of our relationship, back when I kept my walls high.

To him, that was just another challenge to win me over again. But to me, the romance had soured beyond repair.

Even breakfast, once a cherished time, became unbearable. Every smile he gave me felt fake, every kiss a betrayal.

After he left for work, my phone buzzed with a message from the hospital, reminding me of my scheduled prenatal check-up.

It could very well be my last.

I decided to bring a box of doughnuts to the nurses and doctors who had supported me over the years.

They had worked tirelessly to help me, but in the end, I did not even want the child that Anthony and I had once dreamed of together.

“Miss Harris, that’s so thoughtful of you,” the nurse said as she accepted the treats. “Thank you so much.”

I forced a polite smile. “Anytime,” I said flatly.

As I turned to find a seat in the waiting room, my breath caught in my throat. There they were—Anthony and Julie.

They emerged from the gynecologist clinic together, Anthony’s hand resting tenderly on her flat stomach.

In Julie’s hand was a pregnancy book, her name printed clearly across the cover.

I froze, a thousand questions racing through my mind. ‘Was this their baby? But how?’

The irony was almost laughable. Anthony, the man who had introduced me to this very obstetrician, brought his mistress there, thinking I would not notice.

“So even the doctor knows about this?” I muttered under my breath, the ache in my chest intensifying. It felt like a thousand knives stabbing me all at once.

Did his family know, too?

Standing alone in the hallway, I wondered just how far their betrayal went. It was his family, after all, who had brought Anthony into my life in the first place.

I had never imagined becoming part of the Harris family. I was just an ordinary girl, fresh out of college, interning at the prestigious Harris Group to save for my dream of becoming a beauty content creator.

I needed the money to fund my equipment, so I focused on my work, staying out of office politics.

But fate had other plans.

On my first day, I found myself alone in the elevator with an older man who seemed unwell. His right hand clutched his chest while his left gripped his walking stick tightly.

“Sir, are you okay?” I asked hesitantly.

Before he could answer, he collapsed. Panic surged through me as I pressed the emergency button and dropped to my knees to perform CPR.

The basic training I had learned in college became a lifeline, and when the ambulance arrived, the EMTs told me that my quick response had saved his life.

Only then did I learn his identity—Anton Harris, the founder of the Harris Group.

The incident changed my quiet internship into a whirlwind of attention. The Harris family showered me with gratitude, but none more so than Anthony.

He pursued me relentlessly.

At first, I felt burdened by his attention. He helped me with difficult tasks at work, drove me home when I worked late, and sent gifts to my apartment despite my protests.

When I fell ill, Anthony even showed up at my doorstep, carrying me to the hospital.

I tried to dissuade him. “Mr. Harris, please don’t do this. I didn’t save your grandfather expecting anything in return. It was just the right thing to do.”

His response startled me. “I didn’t pursue you because you saved my grandfather,” he said softly, his eyes unwavering.

Confused, I frowned, but he quickly continued. “I liked you long before that. I first saw you on campus when I was in my final year. I watched you from afar because I couldn’t find the courage to approach you. When I found out you applied here, it felt like destiny finally gave me a chance.”

“But….” I hesitated, overwhelmed by his words.

“You don’t have to worry about my family,” he interrupted gently. “They’ve already given their blessing. We could get married right now if you wanted.”

I shook my head, trying to stay rational. “That doesn’t seem right, Mr. Harris. We haven’t even gotten to know each other properly yet.”

He smiled warmly, unfazed. “Then let me prove myself to you. Give me two years. By then, I’ll propose properly, and you can decide. In the meantime, let’s use this time to get to know each other. Please, give me that chance.”

Believing in the sincerity of his words, I nodded.

For the first time in my life, I experienced a kind of affection I had only ever dreamed of.

Still, I carried doubts. Growing up, I had seen love fall apart so easily, leaving only pain and regret behind.

But those two years felt like enough time to convince myself that maybe, just maybe, he was the one.

And so, I said yes.

Our wedding was everything Anthony had promised—a grand affair that captured the envy of everyone. He even bought an entire building and named it ‘Fortune Daisy’ as a tribute to me.

The announcement went viral, and strangers online praised me for “living the dream.”

But that dream had come at a cost.

To protect his family’s privacy, Anthony convinced me to give up my dream of becoming a beauty content creator.

He did not want our lives exposed online except for carefully curated moments, like grand banquets or public appearances.

At first, I felt disappointed, but I told myself it was for the best.

I could not have been more wrong.

My thoughts returned to the hospital. Julie had noticed me standing there, but instead of acknowledging me, she smirked with smug satisfaction.

Could it be, she mocked me?!

The moment Anthony’s gaze followed hers, she skillfully redirected his attention, walking in the opposite direction. That cunning fox had mastered her game.

Seeing them together had been unbearable, but not as painful as the first time I saw them in the elevator.

I left the hospital and went home, heading straight to the closet to sort through my belongings.

As I packed, I regretted not spending the day preparing my departure instead of going to the hospital. But maybe fate had intervened to show me how far their betrayal had gone.

My eyes landed on the wedding photo. I froze, all I felt was a suffocating bitterness.

Four years ago, we were so happy, or so I thought. But in just a few years, everything had unraveled.

I could not help crying while sorting through my belongings. Each item carrying its own story, a bittersweet memory of my life with Anthony, so I decided to sell it.

After all, I had brought so little with me when I first moved in. Everything else like the jewelry, the designer clothes, and the extravagant décor were gifts from Anthony, tokens of a love I then knew was conditional.

Piece by piece, I packed them into boxes, pausing occasionally as memories threatened to overwhelm me.

Once I finished packing and upload the items to sell, I dropped them off and returned to the sofa to rest.

Idly scrolling through Instagram, I switched to my second account and searched for Julie’s page.

I hesitated before pressing enter, bracing myself for whatever I might find.

Her profile loaded quickly, and there it was—a fresh update from two hours ago.

My heart clenched as I tapped on Julie’s update, dreading what she had shared but unable to stop myself.

The caption hit like a punch to the chest, [Our love is complete now -AJ]

The ultrasound photo left no room for doubt. She had boldly displayed their initials, making it abundantly clear that Anthony was hers.

It was not enough for her to betray me behind closed doors; she wanted the world to know.

I wanted to slam my phone against the wall, to destroy the reminder of everything I had lost. But before I could act, the door flew open abruptly.

Anthony stood there, his face a mix of confusion and irritation.

“Daisy, what’s going on? Why did I see your stuff at the second-hand marketplace?”

Ah, so he finally noticed.

The items he gave me—rare, custom, and often one-of-a-kind—were unmistakable.

A year ago, for our anniversary, he had even given me shares in a beauty brand, claiming it was a way for me to be involved in the industry since he did not want me to become an influencer.

“Even if you can’t promote beauty, you can own it,” he had said with pride.

But Anthony never understood what I truly needed. It wasn’t stocks, it wasn’t things—it was support for my dreams.

So, I replied coldly, “I don’t think I need them anymore,”

“Don’t joke, Daisy,” he snapped, his voice hard. “If I see you sell anything again, I won’t give you anything else. Do you even know how hard I worked to collect those for you? They’ll be back here by tomorrow, so take care of them.”

I almost laughed at the absurdity. He had gone and repurchased everything, as if that would solve the problem.

Before I could retort, Anthony crossed the room and scooped me into his lap effortlessly. His playful tone clashed with my simmering anger.

“So, tell me why are you acting like that? Are you still upset because I forgot your birthday last month?” he asked, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

That had been the first time in six years he missed something important to me. It was the time he had been in Hawaii with Julie, opening a resort—and, as I later discovered, making a baby.

“I’m not upset,” I started, but he silenced me by pressing a finger to my lips.

“Shh… I know I messed up,” he whispered, leaning closer. “But I’ve got a surprise for you. It’s been approved today, and I think you’ll love it. Guess what it is?”

I rolled my eyes, uninterested in his games. “A beauty brand again?”

Anthony chuckled, clearly unbothered by my lack of enthusiasm. “Oh, you’re sharp. But no, not this time. You’ll just have to pack so we can go and pick it up.”

Before I could respond, he hoisted me into his arms and carried me to the closet. But the sight of my packed suitcases stopped him in his tracks.

“Wow, baby girl, you’ve outdone yourself! You’ve already packed for the trip? I’ll get the maid to pack my stuff too. Let’s head to the airport.”

I sighed, utterly drained by his obliviousness. Even as he saw my things packed away, he assumed it was for his plans.

Still holding me bridal-style, Anthony carried me down the stairs, ignoring my protests.

I bit my tongue, knowing it would be futile to explain. But that would be my last trip as Daisy Harris, and I would not let him take that away.

Curious about where we were headed, I stared out the window of the private plane. But my thoughts were interrupted as Anthony slid closer, his hand wandering suggestively.

“We haven’t done this in the sky for a long time,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting.

I felt the bile rise in my throat. How many times had he used that same tone, those same words, with Julie?