I once selfishly thought that he still loved me.

But Kimberly's appearance completely shattered that illusion.

Spencer broke his own rules for her again and again, constantly lowering his standards and spoiling her. He transferred all his affection to Kimberly, leaving me with nothing but the fallout.

He didn't want a divorce, because I was still his "one and only," or so he claimed.

But he was the one who had single-handedly turned his "one and only" into someone mundane and ordinary.

The admiration and fascination he once had for me were long gone.

...

Spencer didn't come home all night.

I sat on the sofa, wondering how we had reached this point.

He didn't return until noon the next day, looking bright and refreshed. He’d clearly had a wonderful night with Kimberly.

He handed me a velvet box.

Inside was a vintage brooch I had long admired, from Cartier's high jewelry collection.

Spencer pinned the brooch to my collar and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

"Stella, I know you've had your eye on this for a long time."

For a fleeting moment, I thought he still loved me.

I pressed my lips together, looking at myself in the mirror. I looked fragile and delicate, like an orchid in need of care.

Spencer's gaze on me was a cocktail of desire and guilt.

"Get dressed up. I want to make up for our missed anniversary."

I put on makeup and changed into a gown that matched the brooch.

Spencer chartered a helicopter for a tour of Manhattan, we had dinner at Per Se, and he even arranged a grand fireworks display just for me.

For a moment, I let myself sink into the long-lost happiness.

We were as blissfully in love as we were in the beginning, as if the rift that had formed over the last few years had never existed.

Ever since Spencer started his affairs, my creative well had run dry.

But now, I finally felt the urge again.

When I walked into my studio, however, I froze. My professional drawing tablet had been moved.

And on the desk, there was a new addition: a drawing pen, not mine, engraved with the initials "KN." Kimberly Nash.

Everything that had happened today flashed through my mind like a fast-forwarded movie.

All the surprises, romance, and affection were just lies.

Spencer's sudden attempt to make amends, the guilt in his eyes—it was all because of Kimberly.

She had copied the unpublished design files from my computer, and Spencer was trying to placate me.

That fragile flicker of hope crumbled to dust.

...

Holding back my tears, I called Spencer.

The phone rang for a long time before he answered.

"Stella, what's wrong?"

I confronted him. "Spencer… all this today… was this just about Kimberly copying my design files?"

Spencer was silent for a moment.

"Stella, I've already spoken to her. It won't happen again."

My heart plummeted.

I asked coldly, "She's an intern. Does she have no shame? Doesn't she know plagiarism is career suicide in this industry? Is she so talentless she has to steal from me to get by?"

Suddenly, I heard a faint sob on the other end of the line.

Kimberly was crying.

Between sobs, she said, "I'm sorry, Spencer. I was just under so much pressure, so I 'drew inspiration' from her work."

Spencer sighed. "Apologize."

"I'm sorry," Kimberly choked out, her voice breaking.

I could hear Spencer gently comforting her on the other end, and it was a knife twisting in my gut.

"Stella, just tell me what you want. I'll make it up to you," Spencer's voice was laced with desperation. "If this gets out, Kimberly's internship is over. I need you to let this go. Please, Stella."

Tears streamed down my face.

He hadn't spoken to me like this in so long, and now that he was, it was for Kimberly's sake.

He had once been captivated by the light in my eyes when I was creating.

Now, he was asking me to give up my designs so his lover could gain fame and fortune.

My tears splattered onto the cold screen of my drawing tablet.