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?

"I’m not in the mood, Anthony," I said firmly, rejecting his advances.

Anthony crossed his arms, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before he replaced it with a softer tone. “So, you are sulking,” he muttered. “I swear, you’ll be happy with this one, trust me.”

When I did not respond, he simply stroked my head gently and dropped the subject, for a moment.

After we landed, Anthony revealed his plan to make up for missing my birthday. He had brought me to Paris. The city of love. The city was full of memories of our first trip together.

“Let’s have dinner first,” he said, smiling warmly. “I’ve booked a table at the Eiffel Tower.”

I could not deny that Paris once meant the world to me. It had been the first country I visited outside of London, and Anthony had gone all out to make that trip magical.

But returning to the place only deepened my heartbreak. I could not enjoy it anymore, knowing the truth.

During dinner, I barely touched my food, pushing it around the plate aimlessly.

“You used to love Tuna Steak,” Anthony said, frowning slightly. “Does it not suit your palate this time?”

“I’m just not hungry,” I replied flatly.

Anthony leaned closer, his face lighting up with excitement. “Then let’s go. You’re going to love this.”

He led me to the boutique of a luxury brand, where we were greeted by a manager and a secretary. As the secretary handed me a contract, Anthony’s enthusiasm spilled over.

“Babe, I’ve bought you a luxury brand now. Please sign it,” he beamed, clearly expecting me to be thrilled.

I signed the papers without looking at him.

“Oh, I’ve already spoken with the brand. They’ve reserved some limited-edition designs just for you. They’re all your style,” he continued.

As I finished signing, I answered, my voice cold and distant. “Alright. Thanks.”

After the contract was completed, the manager ushered us inside to view their collection. Staff hurried to bring out the items Anthony had arranged for me.

As I stood beside him, I leaned in and whispered, “Anthony, you don’t have to do all this for me anymore.”

His face fell slightly, confused. “Daisy, you’re my whole world. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy—even for the years ahead, forever.”

Oh, Anthony, if only you knew. There were no more years for us. Not anymore.

“Just keep choosing,” he said abruptly, cutting off my train of thought. “I’ll wait for you in the dressing room, okay?”

Without waiting for my response, he stepped away, pulling out his phone as he walked.

I sighed and turned to the staff. “That’s all. Thank you.”

Reluctantly, I made my way to the dressing room, trying on a few items as quickly as possible.

Even when Anthony could not resist complimenting me, I offered him only a flat expression.

But he did not actually notice, since he was too busy with his phone, the screen lighting up repeatedly as he exchanged messages.

“I’m done, Anthony,” I said to snap him out of it.

He pocketed his phone and glanced at me, clearly surprised. “Oh, that’s all? That’s unusual. You look perfect in everything. Just take them all, so you can wear something new every hour if you want.”

The brand manager, who had been watching the entire exchange, chimed in with admiration.

“Mr. Harris, you really are the ultimate husband. I’ve never seen anyone dote on his wife like this. No wonder you’re such a successful young CEO.”

Anthony smiled graciously, returning the compliment. “That’s because your products are excellent. And, of course, my beautiful wife makes everything look even better.”

The staff around us sighed with envy, whispering about how this felt like a scene straight out of a romantic novel.

I wanted to shout, “Trust me, this is not a romantic novel!”

But I could not. I had to maintain the dignity of the Harris family. Instead, I turned to Anthony and said, “I’m exhausted. Let’s head back to the hotel.”

Anthony immediately wrapped up the conversation with the manager. “Send my wife’s picks to my address. I’ll have my secretary handle the payment.”

“Of course, Mr. Harris. Thank you,” the manager replied with a satisfied smile.

On the way to the hotel, I could not help but think, ‘So, since Julie became his secretary months ago, she has been handling his expenses these days. How much has she spent on herself while pretending to be professional?’

When Anthony went to take a shower, I seized my chance. Grabbing his phone, I searched through his financial records.

And there it was. The trip to Hawaii was not just about inaugurating the resort with Julie. Anthony had bought her an island.

An entire island. For her.

What was more, Anthony had named the island after her. ‘Lovely Julie,’ just like when he bought me a building and named it.

Curiosity burned inside me, so I scrolled through his Cloud storage, only to find countless romantic photos of them together, stored with care. My chest tightened in fury.

What a jerk!

Anthony had always insisted on hiring male secretaries, claiming he felt uncomfortable with unknown women in close proximity.

I should have been suspicious when his longtime male secretary resigned and was swiftly replaced by Julie Osborn, a woman who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

I never thought a third party would be the reason for our separation. Yet here I was. Anthony had chosen his path, so then it was time for me to choose mine.

I sent all the incriminating evidence to my phone and uploaded it to a secure cloud folder, including screenshots of Julie’s Instagram posts hinting at their relationship. They were careful not to be overt, but the implications were clear.

As I finished, Anthony emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp, a towel draped around his neck. He looked at me with a teasing smirk, clearly mistaking the disgusting expression on my face.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice low. “After getting what you want, you seem ready for me to touch you.”

I forced a smile, walking closer to him. “Everything for you, my dear.”

I slipped off my dress as his eyes darkened with desire. But as the night went on, my mind wandered.

I could not stop imagining Julie in my place. Did she feel the same thrill when Anthony held her?