The Penthouse Wife's Ultimate Revenge

Eliza Anderson's POV:

One week before my wedding, I noticed the master bedroom door was slightly ajar.

Then I heard their voices—my fiancé Gage and my best friend Caroline. They were laughing about their secret relationship, how they'd been together behind my back!

Gage Morrison was a top cardiovascular surgeon. In public, he was quiet, brilliant, compassionate.

The media praised his steady hands and calm demeanor on the operating table. He spoke softly, always looking at you with that focused, concerned gaze. He cultivated an aura of sensitivity and thoughtfulness, and everyone around us fell for it.

Gage claimed he suffered from severe insomnia. He said even the slightest sound or light would disturb his sleep. To deal with it, he needed to lock himself in the master bedroom every night.

He needed absolute darkness and silence, no distractions whatsoever. And I believed him. I made sure the house stayed quiet. After nine o'clock at night, I always tiptoed around, terrified of disturbing him.

I made so many sacrifices for Gage. His health became my top priority. I moved into the guest room, sharing it with Caroline. A few months earlier, she'd needed a place to stay after a bad breakup, and I'd taken her in without hesitation.

I bought a special white noise machine for his room, installed blackout curtains, and prepared soothing herbal tea for him every night. I thought I was supporting the man I loved, helping him through a difficult condition.

Seven days before the wedding, I was in the living room adjusting the wedding guest list when I heard a faint sound coming from the master bedroom.

Gage always kept the master bedroom door locked tight, but now it was cracked open. I quietly approached the door and heard soft laughter, followed by Gage's deep chuckle.

My mind went blank. I pushed the door open a little more and peered through the crack.

Caroline was sitting on the bed, wearing one of Gage's oversized shirts, her hands casually draped over his shoulders. They looked far too intimate.

Caroline spoke first, her voice teasing. "So, my dear heart doctor, how long do you plan to keep up this 'insomnia' act after the wedding? Eliza will get suspicious sooner or later."

Gage laughed. "Not too long. Just until she's used to you living here. Once we're married, my 'insomnia' will miraculously clear up. Then we can slowly talk her into moving out on her own. She's so used to accommodating me, she'll never suspect a thing."

Caroline leaned in closer. "And then? Just the two of us? In our penthouse?" She emphasized "our" with a possessive, triumphant tone.

I held my breath. The penthouse was mine. I'd bought it with my own money.

Gage leaned in and kissed her hair. "That's right. Once she's gone, we can really enjoy our lives. No more sneaking around, no more sharing the guest room with your fake best friend."

The world tilted. My vision blurred. My body went rigid. Their sweet words and cruel laughter filled my ears.

His "insomnia" was a lie. His "insomnia" was an elaborate ruse. It had all been just to cover up their affair.

I walked back to my room, and the first thing I did was take out my phone. I canceled the honeymoon trip—the Bora Bora vacation we'd always dreamed of.

Then I opened the real estate app on my phone. The penthouse—I'd bought it outright, all cash. I listed it as "For Sale by Owner," looking for a buyer who could close fast.

I wanted them out. I wanted everything cleaned out. A notification popped up on the screen: "Listing successful. Expect high interest." A cold satisfaction rose in my chest.

I picked up the carefully blended essential oil from my nightstand. It was a soothing oil I'd specially formulated for Gage, using a precious plant essence my late mother had left me. I'd poured my heart into that tiny bottle with love, thinking it would ease his stress and steady his surgeon's hands.

It was a symbol of my care, my love, my devotion. I walked to the trash can and dropped it in. The small bottle hitting the plastic made a soft sound, but it felt like a gunshot.

Just then, my phone vibrated. A message from the real estate agent: "Cash offer accepted. Closing in 48 hours."

I heard Gage and Caroline coming out of the master bedroom, their laughter still echoing. Caroline, as innocent as ever, walked into the kitchen and ran straight into me.

She gave me a bright, fake smile. "Good morning, Eliza! Sleep well?"

Gage followed behind, looking refreshed. The moment he saw me, he flashed his signature gentle, charming smile. "Good morning, Eliza. Sorry I'm up so early—another emergency. How did you sleep last night?"

He walked toward me, reaching out to put his hand on my shoulder, and I felt a surge of revulsion. His touch used to comfort me, but now it sickened me like poison.

I caught a faint, unfamiliar scent on him—sweet and cloying, Caroline's cheap perfume, barely masked by Gage's cologne.

"Fine, Gage," I answered calmly, betraying no emotion. Caroline was busy making coffee in the kitchen, humming a little tune.

Then she turned around, looking at me with feigned innocence and concern. "Eliza, you look a little tired. Everything okay? Gage got a call last night, and we were just talking about his surgery."

Gage nodded, meeting my eyes. His gaze held that usual sincerity, like he'd practiced it a thousand times. "Yeah, honey, just a quick briefing. Caroline really understands my work. You know, I have to be ready for surgery."

He added a little apologetic shrug. His charm was still intact, a weapon he wielded at will. A flicker of unease crossed his eyes, but it was quickly masked by his usual calm. He was so good at pretending, it was terrifying.

"It's fine," I said again, forcing myself to smile, not a single emotion showing on my face.

Gage leaned in closer, his voice low and soft. "You know, this job... it's really exhausting. But knowing you're waiting for me—that's what keeps me going." He finished with a gentle squeeze of my hand and a smile.

"I understand. Your work is important," I replied perfunctorily.

Gage smiled, satisfied. He picked a fresh rose from the vase on the counter and tucked it behind my ear. "Thank you for being so patient, my love. You're the best."

There was a sparkle in his eyes. He was still so handsome, so perfect—but it felt like a cruel mockery, laughing at the trust I'd once had.

Caroline stepped forward and took my arm. "Eliza, you know, sometimes you need to relax. Gage needs you to stay strong and happy. Maybe you should take a little trip, clear your head before the big day." She patted my arm, smiling like a harmless little bunny.

Gage looked at me with adoration in his eyes. "Yes, darling. You work so hard, you deserve a good rest. Your presence helps me so much—you're my rock."

And then I saw it. A tiny, almost invisible fleck of glitter on the left lapel of Gage's suit. It was Caroline's.

The last thread of my self-deception snapped completely. The so-called perfect life had all been a lie.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, trying to look casual.

It was an email from a private investigator I'd quietly hired a few days ago, out of desperation as Gage's behavior grew stranger.

The subject line read: "Caroline Stafford Pregnancy Confirmation Report." My hands trembled slightly as I opened it.

Attached was an ultrasound image and a doctor's diagnostic report confirming Caroline was twelve weeks pregnant. At the bottom of the report, the doctor's signature read: "Dr. Gage Morrison." My world crumbled.