Eliza Anderson's POV:

My phone vibrated again, and I clenched it tighter. Gage glanced at my trembling hand, his eyes narrowing slightly, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face.

He met my gaze, and his smile faltered for a split second, almost freezing.

"Eliza, is everything all right?" he asked, his tone carrying a hint of concern—or was it wariness? He picked up his phone from the kitchen counter and swiped through notifications with practiced ease.

"Just work emails," I lied, my voice flat and emotionless, my face immediately shifting into an apologetic, charming smile.

"Ah, these late-night emails. I'm so sorry, darling, for disturbing our morning." He walked over, slipped an arm around my waist, pulled me close, and his lips brushed lightly against my forehead.

"Actually," he whispered in my ear, "I almost forgot! I have a surprise for you." He pulled out his phone again and showed me the screen. It was a booking confirmation.

"Bora Bora, first class, for two. Just us." His eyes sparkled with feigned delight. "I know you've always wanted to go there. A little pre-wedding trip, just the two of us—my way of making up for being so busy with work."

He shook his head and laughed self-deprecatingly. "My job is absolutely crazy, but I carved out this time. Just you and me, away from everything."

He held the phone out to me, waiting for my reaction. I stared at the booking information, the text blurring. Bora Bora. The honeymoon I'd just canceled.

The honeymoon he'd planned with Caroline. My stomach churned. The taste of irony was bitter in my mouth. "That's wonderful, Gage."

I forced the words out, my voice dripping with false enthusiasm. "I'm so looking forward to it." This was the game I had to play, and I'd play it well. I wouldn't let them see me break.

The next morning, the penthouse was filled with the aroma of coffee and freshly baked croissants.

Surprisingly, Gage was in the kitchen, wearing a crisp white apron over his perfectly pressed shirt. He hummed a cheerful tune as he flipped pancakes.

Caroline sat at the breakfast bar, drinking orange juice, glowing. "Good morning, Eliza!" she greeted cheerfully, looking up from her phone screen. "Gage made us a feast!"

Gage turned around with a gentle smile. "Good morning, darling. Caroline specifically requested her favorite French toast. And you, my love—your usual berry smoothie."

He set the smoothie in front of me, then turned to Caroline and gently pushed a plate of French toast toward her. "Eat up, baby. You need your strength."

He came over to me and kissed my forehead. "Eliza, I'll be working late at the hospital tonight. Big surgery, complex case. Don't wait up for me." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Of course, Gage," I said softly. I reached up and smoothed his hair—a gesture I'd practiced a thousand times. "Be careful. Try to rest when you can."

I watched him leave, his handsome figure disappearing down the hallway. Caroline followed him to the door, waving goodbye. Then she turned around, a smug expression on her face, and walked back into the kitchen.

Once they were both gone, I headed straight for Gage's master bedroom. I pulled a small metal key from the bottom of my jewelry box. The lock clicked softly and swung open with a dull thud.

I pushed the door open. The room was spotless, a perfect reflection of his obsession with tidiness. It smelled of Gage's cologne, mixed with a hint of Caroline's cheap perfume.

I walked straight to the bed—the luxurious king-sized bed where they'd carried out their betrayal. I lifted the heavy mattress. Beneath it, a small velvet pouch was hidden. I found it. Caroline's diary. Filled with her elegant handwriting, documenting every sordid detail.

I started reading. Her words leaped off the page, each one a stab to my heart.

"Gage's 'insomnia' is such a brilliant excuse. Eliza is so naive! She actually believes it. She even buys him special tea! Haha! While she's sleeping peacefully in the guest room, I'm in her master bedroom, in her bed, with her fiancé." My hand tightened around the diary, fury rising.

"Poor thing, always trying to be the perfect girlfriend, the supportive partner. Doesn't she know Gage needs excitement, not some tame little perfumer? I'm what he really wants."

"He says I'm lively, fun. He says Eliza is... comfortable. Boring. He can't wait for the wedding so he can finally be rid of her. Then this penthouse, his career, our baby... it'll all be mine. All mine!"

The more I read, the colder I felt. I recalled countless conversations with Caroline—her subtle barbs, her fake compliments.

"Eliza, you're so lucky to have a man like Gage. He's so handsome and successful. But you know, men sometimes need a little passion. You're just so calm, so grounded."

At the time, I'd brushed it off, thinking it was her own insecurity talking. Now I saw the truth behind her words. She wasn't envious of me—she was studying me, waiting for her chance to take everything. She wanted to take everything from me.

I was about to tear the diary to shreds when something else caught my eye. Hidden beneath the diary was a snow-white envelope with my name scrawled across it in hurried handwriting.

I opened it. Despite my resolve, my fingers still trembled. Inside was a medical report.

And an ultrasound photo. "Patient: Caroline Stafford." Date: two weeks ago. "Estimated gestational age: 12 weeks."

My vision blurred. On the signature line, clearly visible: "Attending Physician: Gage Morrison."

Eliza Anderson's POV:

I stumbled out of the master bedroom, clutching the diary and the ultrasound photo tightly in my hands.

I needed to be alone. I retreated to my own room, closed the door, and the lock clicked shut, as if sealing off the entire world.

My legs gave out, and I slid to the floor, my back against the cold wall. I bit down hard on my lower lip—the taste of blood was the only thing that made me feel real.

I slowly stood up and walked to the mirror. I tried to smile, to give myself some comfort, but my lips wouldn't obey. The corners of my mouth trembled, then fell. I closed my eyes.

In that moment, I knew—the Eliza I used to be was gone forever.

A few hours later, I heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking. Gage and Caroline were back. Their voices drifted down the hallway, light and cheerful.

Gage walked in first, carrying a large insulated bag. "Darling Eliza, I'm home. I hope you ate something. I brought your favorite Thai curry, to make up for my recent absences." He gave me that deliberately practiced apologetic smile.

He opened the bag, and the rich aroma of coconut milk and spices filled the room.

"I know there's always something pulling me away lately," he continued, arranging the containers on the dining table, "but I really want you to know how much I care."

"I'm not hungry, Gage. I don't feel well."

"Oh, Eliza, you really should eat something," Caroline chimed in, her voice laced with concern. She gestured toward the food on the table. "Gage went all the way out there just for you."

I ignored her. I pressed "send" on my phone, and a notification popped up on the screen: "Penthouse sale confirmed. Cash buyer, closing within 24 hours."

Gage's smile froze. Caroline's eyes widened. They both stared at my phone, then at me. Their usual composure was cracked with shock and confusion.

"What... what is this, Eliza?" Gage's voice was tight, with obvious anger.

"I sold the penthouse," I said calmly and clearly. "Cash buyer, closing tomorrow morning." I stood up, my chair scraping harshly against the floor.

I walked past their stunned faces and back to my room. As I passed the living room sofa, I saw it—my engagement ring, sparkling in the light.

I remembered the day Gage proposed. He knelt before me, his eyes full of what I'd thought was love. "This ring," he'd said, holding up the dazzling diamond, "is a symbol of my endless loyalty, my promise to spend my life with you, Eliza." Those vows I'd once cherished now sounded like hollow lies.

The next morning, I woke up early. My phone vibrated. A notification from Caroline's social media. A photo. Her hand intertwined with Gage's, my engagement ring glittering on her finger. The caption read: "Finally got the ring that's mine! And a little one on the way! Can't wait for our future, my love @GageMorrison."

I felt that familiar rage rise up again, but then my phone rang. It was Gage.

"Eliza, what is the meaning of this?" His voice was tight with anger.

"What meaning, Gage?" I asked calmly.

"Caroline's post! And the ring! Why is she wearing your ring?" he demanded.

"She's carrying your child, Gage," I stated the obvious. "Maybe she feels entitled to it. Or maybe you gave it to her."

He stammered for a moment, then forced himself to sound composed. "Eliza, don't be ridiculous. She... she's just emotional. I let her try it on to calm her down. You know how sensitive women get when they're pregnant." His tone was condescending, dismissive. "It's nothing. I'll buy you a bigger one, a better one."

"That's fine, Gage," I said in a voice so cold it could freeze. "You two keep it. I don't need it." I hung up before he could say anything else.

I looked at the email on my laptop. The penthouse closing documents. "Transaction complete." A cold, triumphant smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. His promises of bigger rings, better lives—they all meant nothing. I'd cut everything off. He could keep those material possessions; I didn't need them.

I crumpled the engagement ring receipt into a ball and tossed it in the recycling bin. Then I called a taxi.

Time to take back what's mine.