The sun was shining through the heavy curtains of the guest bedroom, but I felt like I was under a dark cloud.

I stared at my phone screen, the message from the unknown number was still there. The picture of Zyran and Mina looking so happy together mocked me. "I'll enjoy him later."

"Stop looking at it," a voice said sharply.

I looked up. Nixie walked into the room carrying a tray with toast, fruit, and a glass of milk. She looked angry, but her eyes softened when she met my gaze.

"You didn't sleep at all, did you?" she asked, setting the tray down on the bed.

"I couldn't," I admitted, sitting up slowly. My body felt heavy. My ankle was stiff, wrapped in a bandage, and my stomach felt tender. "Nixie, that text message... do you think they are...?"

"Sleeping together?" Nixie finished for me. She sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. "Honestly, Rose? I don't know. Men can be clueless. But Zyran isn't the type to cheat. He's too concerned about his reputation and his 'principles.'"

She picked up an apple slice, pointing it at me. "But that doesn't mean Mina isn't trying. She's a snake and your husband is letting her crawl all over your marriage because of a promise he made to his mother."

I rubbed my temples. "He feels responsible for her. He said she is like family."

"You are his family!" Nixie snapped. "You are his wife! And you are carrying his-"

She stopped and lowered her voice to a whisper. "You are carrying his child, Roosevelt. You have to tell him, you can't keep this a secret forever."

"I know," I whispered back, looking at the glass of milk. "But not yet. Did you see how he looked at her last night? He defended her. If I tell him now, he might think I am just using the baby to get rid of her. Or worse, Mina might find out and try to hurt the baby."

Nixie looked horrified. "You really think she would go that low?"

"She pushed me down the stairs, Nixie," I said flatly. "I don't put anything past her."

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Nixie stood up and crossed her arms, putting on her "battle face."

"Come in," I called out.

The door opened and Zyran stepped inside. He wore a grey suit, looking impeccable as always. He smelled of expensive cologne and coffee. He didn't look like a man who had been dealing with police and stalkers all night.

He glanced at Nixie, then at me.

"Good morning," he said. His voice was calm and professional. "How is the ankle?"

"It's fine," I lied. It throbbed with every heartbeat.

"Good," Zyran said, checking his watch. "I have to go to the office for a few hours. There is a board meeting I cannot miss. Security is outside the door. No one comes in or out without my permission."

"You're leaving?" I asked, feeling a spike of anxiety. "Zyran, we are in a Safe House. Is it safe for you to go?"

"I have security with me," he assured me. He took a step closer to the bed but stopped a few feet away. "Mina is coming with me."

Nixie scoffed loudly. "Of course she is. Does she have a board seat now, too?"

Zyran shot Nixie a cold glare. "Mina needs new identification papers. Her documents were destroyed in the fire. My assistant is meeting us at the office to sort it out. I can't leave her here alone."

"She wouldn't be alone," Nixie argued. "Roosevelt is here."

"That is exactly why I am taking her," Zyran said, looking back at me. "I don't want any more 'accidents' while I am gone. It's better if you two are separated."

I felt a lump form in my throat. He was separating us, but he chose to take her with him. He was leaving his injured, pregnant wife in a strange house so he could babysit his ex.

"Fine," I said, looking down at my hands. "Do what you have to do."

Zyran hesitated. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something else. He noticed the bandage on my ankle, and his hand twitched at his side.

"I will be back for dinner," he said finally. "Please... just rest. Don't stress yourself."

He turned and walked out the door.

I listened to his footsteps fade down the hallway. I heard Mina's voice downstairs, high and happy, and then the front door closed.

Nixie sat back down on the bed and took a bite of the apple aggressively.

"He is an idiot," she declared. "A handsome, rich, colossal idiot."

"I know," I said, picking up the glass of milk. I forced myself to drink it. I had to be strong. Not for Zyran, and not for me. But for the little life growing inside me.

"So, what is the plan?" Nixie asked. "We can't just sit here and wait for them to come back."

I wiped my mouth and looked at my friend. The sadness was still there, but a bit of fire was starting to burn in my chest again.

"No," I said. "We aren't going to just sit. I need to make a call. If Zyran is going to prioritize his 'old friend,' then I need to protect myself."

"Who are you calling?" Nixie asked.

"My lawyer," I said simply. "I need to know what my options are. Just in case."

Nixie nodded approvingly. "That's my girl."

We sat there in the quiet room, eating toast and planning, while my husband drove away with the woman who wanted to destroy me.

Two days later, the swelling in my ankle had gone down enough for me to walk without limping. The doctor said the baby was stable, but I still felt a constant, low hum of anxiety in my chest.

I couldn't stay in the Safe House anymore. The walls were too gray, and the silence was too loud. Every time I saw Mina, she would give me a little smile that didn't reach her eyes, or she would be whispering to Zyran in a corner.

I needed to breathe. I needed to be me again.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Nixie asked, zipping up her overnight bag. She was going back to her own husband and kids.

"I have to be," I said, smoothing down my skirt. "I have a presentation for the Henderson account today. If I stay here, I'll go crazy."

Nixie hugged me tight. "Call me if the 'Ghost' tries anything. I mean it, Rose."

"I will," I promised.

After Nixie left, I called a car. I didn't ask Zyran for permission. I just sent him a text, Going to the office. I have work to do.

Walking into my design firm, Elite Interiors, felt like coming up for air. The smell of fresh coffee and drafting paper calmed me instantly. My assistant, Sarah, rushed over as soon as I stepped off the elevator.

"Mrs. King! We didn't expect you back so soon," Sarah said, looking relieved. "We have been trying to manage the Henderson file, but they are asking for you specifically."

"I'm here now," I said, walking into my office. I ran my hand over my desk. This was my kingdom. Here, I wasn't the neglected wife or the clumsy pregnant woman. I was Roosevelt King, the top interior designer in the city.

I worked for four hours straight. I lost myself in fabric swatches, color palettes, and blueprints. For a little while, I forgot about Mina.

Then, my office phone rang.

"Mrs. King?" Sarah's voice came through the intercom. "Mr. King is on line one, he says it's urgent."

My stomach tightened. L Was it Mina?

I picked up the phone. "Zyran? Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," Zyran's deep voice filled my ear. He sounded calm, but there was a hesitation in his tone that I wasn't used to. "I saw your text. I'm glad you felt well enough to go in."

"I needed the distraction," I said honestly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," he said. "Actually, I have a favor to ask. A business favor."

I sat up straighter. Zyran respected my work. He never asked for favors unless it was important.

"Okay," I said. "What do you need?"

"I just closed a deal on a new property," Zyran said. "It's a luxury condo in the city center. It needs a complete interior redesign. Furniture, paint, everything and it needs to be done fast. Within two weeks."

"Two weeks is a tight deadline, Zyran," I said, grabbing a pen. "But for you, I can pull some strings. Is this for a client? Or an investment property?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. I could hear Zyran breathing.

"It's not for an investor," he finally said. "I bought it for Mina."

My pen froze on the paper.

"Mina?" I whispered.

"She can't stay at the Safe House forever," Zyran explained quickly. "And she can't go back to her old neighborhood. It's not safe. So, I bought her a place. A fresh start."

I felt the blood drain from my face. He bought her a condo? A luxury condo?

"And you want me to design it?" I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief.

"You are the best designer I know, Roosevelt," Zyran said. "Mina has been through a lot. I want her to have a place that feels peaceful. She admires your taste, she actually suggested it."

She suggested it.

Of course she did. She didn't want a home, she wanted to see if I would bow down and serve her. She wanted me to pick out the curtains for the house my husband bought her.

"Zyran, I don't think-"

"Please, Roosevelt," he interrupted. His voice was soft and pleading. "I just want to get her settled so things can go back to normal for us. If you do this, she will be out of our hair. We can focus on our marriage. On us."

I stared at the blank notepad in front of me.

My heart was screaming no. It was humiliating. It was wrong.

But if I said no, I would look like the jealous, petty wife he accused me of being. If I said no, he would hire someone else, and he would still spend time checking on the project.

But if I said yes... I would be building a nest for the woman who was trying to steal my life.

"Roosevelt?" Zyran asked. "Will you do it?"

I gripped the phone tight, my knuckles turning white. I had to make a choice. Save my pride or play the game to get my husband back?

"Send me the address," I said.

My body ached. The excitement of being back at work had faded, replaced by a dull throb in my ankle and the exhaustion of hiding a pregnancy.

I unlocked the heavy front door of the Safe House, expecting silence and a cold, empty hallway.

Instead, laughter filled the air.

"Oh, look at you! You are still as beautiful as a doll, Mina!"

"Stop it, Clara! You are making me blush."

My hand froze on the doorknob. That was Zyran's sister, Clara. The other voice, the deep, commanding one belonged to his mother, Beatrice.

I took a deep breath. Just be polite, I told myself, be the good wife.

I walked into the living room. The sight before me made my stomach drop.

Mina sat in the center of the plush velvet sofa, wrapped in a cashmere blanket I recognized, it was a gift Zyran had given his mother last Christmas. Beatrice held Mina's hand on one side while Clara was on the other, brushing a stray lock of hair from Mina's face.

Zyran stood by the fireplace, watching them with a soft, relieved expression. He looked like a man at peace.

I felt like an intruder in my own marriage.

"Good evening," I said, my voice sounding too loud in the warm room.

The laughter stopped instantly.

Beatrice turned her head. Her eyes, identical to Zyran's but devoid of warmth, swept over me. She didn't smile.

"You're back," Beatrice said flatly. "We were wondering when you would join us. Zyran said you were at the office."

"Yes," I said, stepping further into the room. "I had some urgent work to finish."

"Work," Clara scoffed. She didn't even look at me; her attention was on Mina. "Always chasing a career. Meanwhile, poor Mina has been through a living hell, she needs family, not business plans."

"I... I am family too, Clara," I said softly.

Beatrice ignored my response and turned back to Mina, squeezing her hand. "My poor dear. When Zyran told us about the fire, I nearly had a heart attack. You know you are always welcome at the manor, you didn't have to suffer alone."

Mina sniffed, wiping a fake tear from her eye. "I know, Auntie Beatrice. But I didn't want to be a burden. I know Zyran is... married now."

She said the word married like it was a disease.

"Oh, hush," Beatrice said, waving her hand dismissively. "Marriage is just paper. History is what matters. You have been part of us since you were in pigtails, that hasn't changed."

I looked at Zyran, waiting for him to step in, waiting for him to say, "Actually, Mother, Roosevelt is my wife and she is important too."

But Zyran just nodded. "Mother is right, Mina. You aren't a burden."

A sting of tears welled up, but I blinked them away. I walked over to the armchair where my purse rested.

"Did you bring these?" I asked, noticing a pile of gift bags on the coffee table from high-end boutiques-Gucci, Chanel, La Perla.

"Mina lost everything in the fire," Clara said defensively. "We couldn't let her walk around in rags. We brought her some essentials."

"Essentials?" I looked at the Chanel bag. "That's very generous of you."

"Well, someone has to look after her," Beatrice snapped. She finally made eye contact with me. "Zyran told us you are designing her new apartment. I hope you aren't charging him for it. It's the least you can do after she was almost thrown out onto the street."

My jaw tightened. "I am doing it as a favor, Beatrice. I am not charging a dime."

"Good," Beatrice said, turning her back to me again. "Now, Mina, tell me... do you remember that summer at the lake house? When you and Zyran got lost in the woods?"

Mina giggled, her face lighting up. "I remember! Zyran carried me on his back for three miles because I scraped my knee."

"He was always your protector," Clara sighed dreamily. "You two were inseparable, everyone thought..."

Clara stopped, glancing at me, then smirked. "Well, everyone thought a lot of things."

I stood there, invisible. They were rewriting history right in front of me, erasing four years of my marriage and replacing it with their nostalgia.

"I'm going to go upstairs," I announced. "My ankle is sore."

No one answered. Beatrice was too busy pulling a diamond bracelet out of her purse to show Mina.

"This was meant for your birthday years ago," Beatrice whispered to Mina, loud enough for me to hear. "I kept it. I knew you would come back to us."

I turned and walked toward the stairs. My heart felt heavy, like a stone in my chest. They didn't even ask how I was. They didn't notice the bandage on my leg. And they certainly didn't know about the grandchild I was carrying, the grandchild that was currently less important to them than Mina's scraped knee from twenty years ago.

As I reached the first step, I heard Mina's soft voice.

"Don't be too hard on Roosevelt, Auntie. She is working so hard to fix my new house. She is very... obedient."

Beatrice laughed

"Every house needs a decorator, darling. But it takes a lady to make a home."

I closed the bedroom door and leaned against it, letting out a long, shaky breath. The sound of their laughter drifted up from the living room, warm and comfortable like a melody I didn't know the lyrics to.

My stomach churned, a mix of hunger and morning sickness. I walked to my drawer and quickly opened my purse, searching for my prenatal vitamins. I shook two pills into my hand, my fingers trembling slightly.

Suddenly, the doorknob turned.

I gasped and quickly shoved the pills into my mouth, swallowing them dry. I tossed the bottle back into my purse and snapped it shut just as the door opened.

It was Beatrice.

She didn't knock. She walked in, her pearls clicking softly against her silk blouse, and scanned the room with a critical eye as if checking for dust.

"Zyran left his gold watch up here," she said, her voice cool and detached. "He needs it. He wants to show it to Mina. It matches the bracelet I gave her."

I stood up, smoothing down my skirt. "I haven't seen it... Mom. But I can help you look."

Beatrice stiffened slightly at the word 'Mom.' She didn't yell, but her expression tightened as if she had just tasted a lemon.

"You don't need to help," she said, walking over to the nightstand. "And Beatrice is fine, Roosevelt. We don't need to force intimacy where there is none."

I bit my lip. "I just want us to get along for Zyran's sake."

Beatrice opened the top drawer of the nightstand. She found the watch immediately and picked it up, polishing the face with her thumb.

"We get along fine," she said dismissively. "You are a polite girl. You have a job, and you keep Zyran fed. But you must understand... seeing Mina again reminds us of a different time. A time when Zyran was truly... alive."

She turned to leave, but her eyes landed on the desk by the window. I had left the file for the new condo project open. The blueprints were spread out, the address printed clearly at the top.

Beatrice walked over to the desk and looked down at the papers.

"So," she said, tapping a manicured fingernail on the blueprint, "this is the apartment you are designing for her?"

"Yes," I said, walking over. "Zyran bought it today. It's a rush job, but I'm going to make it beautiful. I want her to feel comfortable."

Beatrice read the address on the paper: 1402 Lakeview Drive, Penthouse B.

She froze.

A strange, quiet smile touched her lips. It wasn't a mean smile, exactly. It was a smile of pity.

"Oh," she whispered. "Oh, Roosevelt."

"What is it?" I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach. "Is it a bad neighborhood? I can tell Zyran to look for something else."

Beatrice shook her head slowly, looking at me.

"You really don't know, do you?" she asked softly. "You poor thing, you actually think he went out and bought this place today?"

"He told me he just closed the deal," I said defensively.

"Zyran bought this penthouse five years ago," Beatrice said, her tone matter-of-fact. "He bought it the month before Mina left him. He hired an architect and spent months planning every detail. It was supposed to be their marital home. Their dream house."

The air left my lungs.

"No," I whispered. "That can't be true. He said it was a new investment."

"He never sold it," Beatrice said as she glanced at the blueprints. "He kept it empty all these years. He paid the taxes, managed the maintenance, and left it waiting. Just like he left his heart waiting."

She picked up the watch and walked to the door. With her hand on the knob, she turned back to me one last time.

"He isn't asking you to design a new home for an old friend, Roosevelt," she said. "He is asking you to finish the nest he built for the love of his life."

She closed the door, leaving me alone in silence.

I stared at the blueprints. The lines on the paper suddenly looked like prison bars.

Zyran hadn't just bought a condo. He was moving her into the home he had built for her. He had held onto it for five years.

And the most frightening question wasn't why he kept it.

The question was... if that was their home, then what was I living in?

I stared at the blueprints laid out on my desk. 1402 Lakeview Drive.

I didn't cry. The shock was too deep for tears. Instead, a cold knot formed in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I grabbed my laptop. My hands trembled, but I managed to open the browser and log into the city's public property registry. I needed to see it for myself, I had to find out if Beatrice was being cruel or if my husband was truly this deceitful.

I typed in Zyran's name.

The results appeared instantly. There it was.

1402 Lakeview Drive, Penthouse B. Owner: Zyran King. Purchased: May 12th.

Exactly five years ago.

A gasp escaped my lips. I slammed the laptop shut and covered my mouth with my hand.

He kept it. For five years, through our entire courtship, our wedding, and our four years of marriage, he had hidden this dream house he bought for another woman. He paid the taxes and the maintenance and kept it waiting for her.

The bedroom door clicked open.

I jumped, quickly wiping my eyes. Zyran entered. He had taken off his suit jacket and tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. He looked tired.

"Mother and Clara just left," he sighed, walking toward his closet to remove his watch. "Mina is finally asleep in the guest room, the house is quiet."

He spoke so casually, as if we were a normal couple discussing guests.

I sat frozen at the desk, my hand lay flat on the blueprints.

Zyran turned and noticed me. His dark brows furrowed. "Roosevelt? Are you alright? You look pale. Is your ankle hurting again?"

He approached me. His eyes fell on the blueprints spread across my desk.

"You are working late," he said softly. He reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers were warm, but his touch burned my skin. "I told you there is a rush, but you don't need to wear yourself out. The design can wait until tomorrow."

I looked up at him. His dark eyes had what seemed like genuine concern. How could he appear so caring while hiding such a massive lie?

"Zyran," I said. My voice sounded empty, even to me. "This penthouse, the one at Lakeview Drive."

His hand dropped from my face. The muscles in his jaw tightened. "What about it?"

"It's a beautiful property," I said slowly, watching his every reaction. "The layout is very specific. It has a custom nursery connected to the master suite, did the previous owners build that?"

Zyran looked away and shifted his weight, slipping his hands into his pockets. He couldn't meet my gaze.

"Yes," he said smoothly. "The previous owners."

He wasn't just hiding his past, he was actively deceiving me to protect Mina's comfort.

"It must have been expensive to buy it on such short notice," I pressed, my heart racing. "Closing a deal today must have been stressful."

"My real estate team handled it," he said quickly. He turned his back to me and walked towards the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower, we both need some sleep."

He closed the bathroom door, leaving me alone.

He lied to my face without flinching, without a hint of guilt.

I looked down at my flat stomach. He will lie to us too, I thought, a bitter tear finally falling. He will always put her first.

The next morning, I didn't wait for Zyran to wake up.

I left the Safe House before the sun was fully up. I took a cab straight to Lakeview Drive. I couldn't just sit in my office and design this place from a piece of paper. I needed to stand inside the house my husband built for his first love. I needed to face reality so I could finally wake up from my own foolish dreams.

The building was magnificent, a towering structure of glass and steel. The secu handed me the keys immediately when I showed him my ID and the design firm's authorization.

"Penthouse B," the security smiled politely. "It's a beautiful unit, Mrs. King. Though it has been empty for quite a while."

"I know," I murmured.

I rode the private elevator to the top floor. My hands gripped my purse tightly. I expected to see an empty, dusty apartment.

The elevator doors chimed and opened, revealing a private foyer. I slid the key into the door and pushed it open.

I stepped inside, and the breath was knocked out of my lungs.

The penthouse wasn't empty.

It was fully furnished and it wasn't just standard hotel furniture. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Morning sunlight filled the room, highlighting the emerald green velvet sofa, the gold-accented coffee table, and the hand-painted floral wallpaper in the dining room.

I dropped my purse. It hit the floor with a loud thud.

I walked slowly into the center of the living room, my eyes wide with a horrified realization. I touched the back of the velvet sofa. I traced the pattern on the custom silk drapes.

I recognized these drapes, I recognized this sofa. I knew the exact shade of paint on the walls.

Five years ago, when I was just a junior assistant at my design firm, I got an anonymous commission. A wealthy client wanted a penthouse designed for his bride-to-be. It was my very first solo project. I had poured my heart, my soul, and all my romantic dreams into creating the perfect love nest for a couple I had never even met.

I looked around the room, everything spinning around me.

Zyran didn't just ask me to decorate his ex-girlfriend's house.

He had brought me here to destroy the very first home I ever designed... so I could build her a new one.

But the question was, does he know i was the one who decorated this house then?

I didn't cry in the penthouse. I refused to let the ghost of my husband's past break me.

Instead, I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, and called my lead contractor.

"I need a crew at Penthouse B immediately," I said, my voice steady and cold. "We are tearing it all down. Remove the velvet, tear down the wallpaper, I want it gutted to the concrete by tomorrow morning. We are going with a sterile, ultra-modern minimalist look. All white and no warmth."

If Zyran wanted me to build his ex-girlfriend a home, I would give her a museum. I would erase every memory of the love I had mistakenly poured into this place five years ago.

And that's exactly what I did.

For two grueling weeks, I threw myself into the project. I worked from dawn until dusk, battling morning sickness and exhaustion pulling at my bones. I avoided Zyran as much as I could, using the tight deadline as my excuse.

I played the game perfectly. I smiled when Mina asked for a bigger closet. I nodded politely when Zyran stopped by to check on the progress. I kept my secret, my baby, safe behind my silence.

Finally, it was done.

Mina moved out of the Safe House, and Zyran and I returned to our main mansion.

It was Friday evening. The house was quiet. For the first time in weeks, there was no high-pitched giggling from the guest room. There were no surprise visits from Beatrice.

I stood in front of the mirror in our master bedroom, smoothing down my silk robe. My stomach was just beginning to show a small, barely noticeable bump. I rested my hand over it, feeling a sudden flutter of hope.

Mina is gone, I thought. She has her own place now. Maybe the nightmare is over. Maybe tonight, I can finally tell him about you.

The bedroom door opened, and Zyran walked in.

He looked incredibly handsome. He had removed his tie, and his dark hair was slightly messy. When he saw me standing there, the tense lines around his mouth softened and he actually smiled.

"The house is finally ours again," Zyran said, letting out a long sigh as he placed his briefcase on the armchair.

He walked over to me, my heart did a familiar leap in my chest. He reached out and gently cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin.

"You did an incredible job, Roosevelt," he said softly, his dark eyes looking into mine. "Mina loves the penthouse and she feels safe there. Thank you for that, I know it wasn't easy."

I leaned into his touch and closed my eyes for a moment. "I just wanted us to get back to normal, Zyran. I missed... us."

"I missed us too," he whispered. He kissed my forehead.

He pulled back and reached into his suit jacket pocket. He took out a sleek, black box and placed it in my hand.

"I know the fire and the stalker ruined our anniversary," Zyran said, his voice dropping. "I haven't been the most attentive husband lately. But I wanted to make it up to you, a fresh start for us, too."

My breath hitched as I opened the box slowly.

Inside, resting on white satin, was a stunning diamond tear-drop necklace. The jewels caught the light from the chandelier and sparkled brilliantly. It was elegant and It was perfect.

"Zyran..." I breathed out, tears filling my eyes. "It's beautiful, thank you."

"Only the best for my wife," he smiled, looking pleased. "I'm going to take a quick shower now. Put it on and let's have dinner downstairs, just the two of us."

He turned and walked into the master bathroom, closing the door behind him. The sound of running water soon filled the room.

I stood there, clutching the box to my chest. A happy tear slid down my cheek. He cared. He really did care. Nixie was wrong, Beatrice was wrong. He had just been helping an old friend, but I was his present and his future.

I placed the box on my drawer and walked over to the armchair to hang up his suit jacket so it wouldn't wrinkle.

As I lifted the heavy designer jacket, something slipped out of the breast pocket and fluttered to the floor.

It was a small piece of thick, crested paper. A receipt.

I bent down and picked it up, planning to throw it away. But the logo at the top caught my eye. Tiffany & Co.

My smile widened. He had gone to Tiffany's today just for me. Curious, I scanned the printed lines to see how much he had spent on his apology.

But as I read on, my smile quickly faded. The warmth in my blood turned to ice.

There were two items on the receipt.

Item 1: Diamond Tear-Drop Pendant.

Price: $45,000.

I swallowed hard and moved my eyes to the next line.

Item 2: Custom Diamond Eternity Band (Size 5).

Engraving: Forever Yours, Z.

Price: $250,000.

I stared at the paper until the numbers blurred.

Size 5? My ring size was a 7.

Mina? I thought angrily